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Teresa Fannin, reader, writer, gardener, chocolate fan & tea drinker

Category: Musing (Page 20 of 31)

timesense

03/21/2013 /

When Bayley was in elementary school we would talk about time and Bayley time. She seemed to operate on her own internal clock which had no regard for any input outside of her. My mom was pretty much the same way, maybe even worse and always made me wonder if there is a time gene in that whole genome study. If there was, I got the Z side to the A that was my mom or vice versa.

Lucyle would be late for Mass, late for parties, late for class, and, she was the teacher! Sunday morning Dad would be ready, dressed and in the living room, back when Mass was only on Sunday. He would patiently wait, and when we would walk in late, Dad was okay with that, seemed okay with that. He loved Mom and he was excellent in loving her.

Me? It drove me nutzy! And I saw the impact it made on others who were waiting for her, besides Dad that is. And I know it shaped my own timesense, how I look at time, what I do with time and how I value time for myself and for others.

My biggest struggle as an adult was, is, living in the present. Because I lived with Mom’s singular timesense, and for years was ruled by it, I look at time as a commodity and something to value for others.  I have no clue if Mom cared or even realized how her own sense of time, or lack thereof, went down with those in her social circle. I know at school, Mother Amadea, the school principal, never worried about Mom’s class. Those kids wouldn’t be caught dead doing something wrong, ’cause Mrs. Hannick’s soft voice and deadly stare was terrifying. Well, maybe not so much to me, but to others, well, yeah!

Every once in a while I wondered if Mom was embarrassed by her lack of timeliness. She’d give that little giggle and she’d be this very charismatic person and people would forgive her. I also disliked that. If you were on time, there was no need to be in someone else’s forgiveness. But, it didn’t seem to bother mom.

Last Monday, because we rarely set an alarm now that Tom’s retired, we had to be out of the house by a certain time, get the dogs to the groomers for their monthly bath and then to the CPA who is doing our taxes. I’m dashing around, trying to get something to eat, getting the car set up to transport the puppies and Tom is brushing his teeth, shaving, showering, dressing and getting the dogs’ food ready. I’ve done all that, well not the shaving, and sorted the laundry, made the beds, gotten the newspapers and he’s just putting down the dogs’ food. Sigh.

Bayley got a double whammy on that time gene, the A, or Z, from both a grandparent and her father.

habaem papum

03/14/2013 /

In my lifetime there have been seven popes. I was born during the papacy of Pius XII. And remember clearly the election of John XXIII [and how his taking the name XXIII affirmed the antipapal status of the anti-pope of the Western Schism].  Probably the first time I heard Viva Il Papa! There was the immense impact of Vatican II and how it changed our lives but not our faith.

I remember the controversy over Pius XII, the second world war, the Vatican neutrality, Jews and Hitler. It’s a bit vague but still. After John, Paul VI. Tom and I have a certificate from Rome, still in it’s cylinder with the Vatican City stamps, a blessing on our marriage by Paul VI. And then the quick Papacy of John Paul I. It was, then it wasn’t. And, John Paul II. JP2 we called him, almost from the beginning. He was the first Pope who was more than Italian, who was out there, in the public eye. A catholic rock star! And he was good for the church people but maybe, in a historical sense, not so good for the church management. It’s hard to be a rockstar and a CEO. And, God Love him, Benedict XVI. No doubt in my mind a good and holy man, who had the moral courage to take a step that had not been trod in centuries…the wisdom to understand the church needed different guidance, and the light of the holy spirit to be able to accept what many would question.

Habaem Papum. Viva Il Papa!

wasteland

03/07/2013 /

I thought about wasteland this morning as I went out to pick up the papers. The cold wind that came through during the night and stayed on in the morning like a very un-welcomed guest left a cleansed feeling to the air and the landscape. All around the world was brushed, no leaves on the lawn or in the driveway. No clouds in the sky, just the blue. A sort of white sun shone, and I thought of a Georgia O’Keeffe painting and the bleaching by the desert.

When I was younger and TV was more of a ‘new’ new thing, the wasteland was what they called television. Today, I think that may be more appropriate for the internet, but back to TV. TV was mindless, what had originally be thought of as being this wonderful communication device, this way of bringing to the masses, those poor, hungry starving ones that landed at Ellis Island, a bit of culture, a window to the wonders of the world. Well, no. And, though there was some of that, I remember Playhouse 90 with these live stage plays, there was too,  Milton Berle, Father Knows Best which were not quite as inspiring. Now it’s WWW Raw, and sitcoms that are about nothing.

And, it makes me think that the best thing about television when I was younger is that the characters stayed true to the storyline and the drama was inherent in the way the story was told. Now it seems like we’re back to the wasteland. Reality TV and the opportunity to watch people make fools of themselves, and no Groucho Marx around to soften the blow.  There are series where the whole point it seems is for the main characters to get into bed together. My impetus for writing this? Well, the season finale on Suits, where Jessica Pearson, the managing partner talks about ‘controlling’ another partner. Sigh. Soaps. That’s what they all are. From Downton Abbey to Suits, they are all soaps.

It may still be a wasteland. And, I may grow tired of a series when it turns away from it’s story line into stupid stuff, well, stupid for me. And I may decide to give up and find more interesting story lines. Or. I may just sit down and work on my own.

spring

03/05/2013 /

It should be spring. It’s March, okay so it’s only the beginning of the month and the actual vernal equinox doesn’t come for a while. According to the Farmer’s Almanac, it will be at 7:02 AM (EDT) on March 20. I may set my alarm.  But I actually think Spring, meaning semi-warm weather being around 70-72 degrees with sun, lots of sun and blue skies [truly I don’t care if the sky is  Carolina Blue or not] begins anytime, and is more a state of mind than an actual climatic event.

According to ol’ Puxatawney Phil, he of the no shadow in 2013, winter will NOT be extended by six weeks. Yeah, but. Six weeks from when? February 2? Or from the vernal equinox? Because the vernal equinox, you know, that when the sun moves the highest it is ever going to get in the northern hemisphere, is more than six weeks from February 2. So is Phil, I always call him Phil, saying the vernal equinox, that event that is a universal truth, one of the few, means nothing? Well. That’s always confused me. If it is from 2/2 then we should be getting spring weather soon. Not spring-like, it either is or it is not, there is no like about it.

Sigh. Spring is not what it used to be. Now we talk about spring being between Tuesday and the following Saturday. The weather goes from Winter to Summer. Same same for Fall. Summer to Winter, with only a short stop in between. Well, maybe if you live in the northeast and there wasn’t a hurricane or something else to take out all the lovely leaves that fall all over the place.

I sometimes wonder if spring hasn’t changed, just me. When I was a kid, did I really care about the weather?  No. If it was too rainy or cold to be outside I read. If it was warm enough to be outside I rode my blue and cream English racer, complete with a camel colored seat and matching knapsack, around the neighborhood, mapping the area, knowing all the ins and outs, loving the feeling of freedom and the wind, created wind, but wind all around me.

Yeah, it should be spring.

purple

02/28/2013 /

I like purple. I always have, it’s February’s birthstone, my birthstone. Amethyst, it’s a violet colored quartz. The Greeks named it μέθυστος methustos [okay, you can’t read that and neither can it] but it means intoxicated, meaning that the stone would protect the wearer from drunkenness.  No. I can tell you, doesn’t work. Now, later on, in the middle ages, soldiers wore amethyst believing had healing properties, keeping the wearer cool-headed. Well, yay! I like that one, but, no, I can tell you, doesn’t work. At one time amethyst was considered valuable, but in the latter part of the 1900’s large deposits were found and well, too much of a thing and the value drops. So now, amethyst is a semi-precious stone. Pooh! I still like purple.

Purple, on the color spectrum is a combination of red and blue. But, ha! you knew that if you were anywhere near the political spectrum these past six years. We’ve had lectures on the non-partisan meaning of purple. I almost lost my love for the color over that, I mean, take a perfectly good color, sure it’s not a primary, but to malign it is such a way as to make it political, well, upsetting to say the least. I still like purple.

Purple is still the color of royalty. It is closer to the red on the color wheel, violet being closer to the blue. Do you really care, though? It is the color of royalty because of tiny sea snail; spiny dye-murex. Who knew, right? So it was expensive. The Phoenicians found it and it was called, imperial purple. So how did it become the color of Lent, of penance, of piety. Well, from what I can tell, back in the middle ages, the Pope, one Paul II, moved the Cardinals to scarlet for their robes, that tiny sea snail apparently having given all and the imperial purple no longer available. The lower orders and the university professors, who robed much like the clergy, took to wearing purple, but a not so deep and royal a purple, more like indigo with a red dye, less expensive than the imperial dye.

In the last century, purple still stayed with the royals, but then it became, along with green and white, the colors of the woman’s suffrage movement, Jehovah Witnesses were required to wear a purple triangle by Nazi. It’s one of the colors for the New Orleans Mardi Gras, along with green and gold. Jimi Hendrix wrote the song Purple Haze about hallucinogenic drugs. In South Africa the protest against apartheid has been called the Purple Rain Protest.

Why did I think of this? Because purple is the vestment color for advent and lent. It is the vestment color the priest wears in confession. It is the symbol for penitence.

I still like purple.

 

 

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