11.11.08
Posted in Musings at 10:48 pm by Administrator
This beautiful photo by Patti Ives reminds me of the poem by Carl Sandburg (1878-1967). The first two lines of the poem say:
The fog comes
on little cat feet.
There is something wonderful about fog. The most fantastic fog is that which I saw in New Brunswick as we traveled the highway in the early dawn hours, the only car on the road, and the only visible life, a large crow, cawing, and flying between the tall fir trees that were saluting the dawn.
We often speak of fog metaphorically. If we say that someone is in a fog, it means that the person is not fully cognizant of his actions, and is perhaps executing them in a perfunctory way, not engaging in the moment, just “going through the motions.”
When we say that someone has come out the fog, the statement could mean that he or she is seeing things more clearly. In religious circles, we speak of seeing God through a looking glass, in other words, we are the mirror image of the Creator, but the Bible tells us that “then,” meaning in the hereafter, we shall see Him face to face.
None of us can see ourselves too clearly, can we? We cannot even decipher our own reasons and our own emotions. We keep asking, “What does it all mean? Why am I here?” Certainly, there is a reason for our sustained presence, and if we are still above ground, there is always some potential that we can do some good for someone else.
I love fog, particularly when I see it lifting off the mountains, revealing them clearly. I like to see sun through the fog, the hope of a sunny day. We must, however, live right now. Whether the fog is real and visible, or is existent only in the foggy-brains of ourselves or others, we must live with it until it passes. The joy of life is that there is always a new day dawning.
Patricia Cummings
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11.08.08
Posted in Musings at 11:06 pm by Administrator
While it may seem an archaic practice today, at one time in America, families only took baths on Saturday nights. A roomy container held heated water prepared in a large hearth fireplace. One by one, each family member would bathe in turn, from the father to the mother, and to all the children, down to the youngest. In the summer, the bath must have been a welcome treat and a chance to get clean all over. In the winter, everyone had to contend with the chill of dwellings without central heating.
One method that counteracted the cold drafts, and also afforded privacy, was the use of “quilt cranes.” Quilts were hung from these two long wooden boards that extended from the wall on both sides of the fireplace. Surely, nothing could work better to buffer the cold! An example of this set-up can be below, and the photo was taken, with permission, at Storrowton. See the full article on our website.
I love learning about what our ancestors did to survive in the past. If it were not for the rampant fatal illnesses, the complications of birthing, and the uncomfortable “fashions,” of the 1800s, I could easily go back in time to live in the nineteenth century. Life had its hardships then, as now, but my romantic notion of the time period is that it was more pleasant, even though much work was required of everyone, even children.
I like to fantasize about a time when tall trees grew here, in New Hampshire, for the masts of British war ships. I enjoy thinking about the years between wars. Seems like wars are perpetual, throughout history. I like envisioning all the mills on every fast moving stream in New England. Ah, if I could only go back in time, if only for a day. Who would I want to meet? Who would you want to meet? Quilting Bees, church fairs, country picnics, fresh air, counting sheep … ah, the simple life was probably the best! It’s fun to dream.
Patricia Cummings, Quilter’s Muse Publications
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11.07.08
Posted in Musings at 10:14 pm by Administrator
While I was suffering from a sudden onset attack of Bell’s Palsy that lasted for a month, from April to May, my son recorded an old song originally performed by the Carter Family. I like the sentiment of the words and the fact he recorded it for me. If you would like to give a listen, it is still on my website:
Keep On the Sunny Side
My son, James Patrick Gorham, has many similar interests to mine. I can’t help but think that my work, hobbies, and outlook on the world have had a profound effect on his own life choices. I taught Spanish at a small college and had the opportunity to bring James with me to a supper put on by the international (mostly Japanese) students. He was four years old. I can’t help but think that had an impact.
He has taught English at the college level for quite a few years now, and is participating in a doctoral program. His writings have won awards, and have afforded him the opportunity to go to London to address the annual International F. Scott Fitzgerald conference. He enjoys many of the same early New England writers and poets that I, too, favor.
He enjoys writing songs and has performed in the Rhode Island area. James, like his grandfather and many family members before him, loves music. He plays flute, keyboard, mandolin, and (like me) guitar.
James, like his grandfather, is religious. In leading a ministry for youth in his church he has reached out to the poorest parts of the country, leading his charges to tutor Indian children in reading; and traveling to the poorest sections of Philadelphia to work with the homeless; and going to the deepest parts of the south. He is sensitive to people from other backgrounds and has a love in his heart for all people who walk the earth, no matter what color their skin, or how “funny” their language. I guess the attitude is partially due to his upbringing, at least that is what I hope.
I just wonder how many other children follow in their parents footsteps, without actually realizing how their thoughts of how to act were formed. Of course, we have the generations of welfare mothers follow a trend of procreating without having given much thought to the outcome. People like that, whom I have known in the past, have no “man” in sight to help support their “issue.” Call it hormones or call it irresponsibility. That is an example of how NOT to emulate a parent.
Now, I am blessed with a lovely grandson. James and his wife have hundreds of photos of him, in settings all over the world, and all over the country. The family travels to visit old college classmates and relatives in Europe. Previously, I featured pictures of my grandson here, often. Then, a convicted sex offender joined my blog list, and well … go figure. Now, I just enjoy seeing the photos that I am privileged to see. He truly is the most beautiful child on the planet, and that is no exaggeration!
When Tim Russert was alive, there I was, every Sunday morning, watching “Meet the Press.” I still watch the show but not with the same gusto. Tim had a certain uncanny ability to zero in on any topic, giving supporting evidence for the point he was trying to get across, and delivering the message well. At the same time, he was always fair. It was with great joy and surprise that I have seen his son, Luke Russert, fielding political questions on television, this past week. This is another example of how a parent influenced a child, in a good and lasting way.
I am proud of my son, James, and all that he has accomplished, just as I am vicariously happy about Luke’s work now. Relationships change when children marry, but a mother never stops loving their own (child). There is a lot of satisfaction in having raised a morally upright person who is now setting a good example for his university students and others. My son and I came through the rain together. Today, I am happy to be reminded again to “Walk on the Sunny Side of Life,” whenever I hear his recording.
Patricia Cummings
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