Into the Archive: A Sense of Tales Untold

 

A Sense of Tales Untold: Exploring the Edges of Tolkien’s Literary Canvas (2021; this edition June 25, 2024, Kent State University Press; 154 pages) by Peter Grybauskas

“A Sense of Tales Untold examines the margins of J. R. R. Tolkien’s work: the frames, edges, allusions, and borders between story and un-story and the spaces between vast ages and miniscule time periods. The untold tales that are simply implied or referenced in the text are essential to Tolkien’s achievement in world-building, Peter Grybauskas argues … “A story must be told or there’ll be no story, yet it is the untold stories that are most moving,” wrote Tolkien to his son during the composition of The Lord of the Rings, cutting straight to the heart of the tension between storytelling and world-building that animates his work. From the most straightforward form of an untold tale―an omission―to vast and tangled webs of allusions, Grybauskas highlights this tension. A Sense of Tales Untold engages with urgent questions about interpretation, adaptation, and authorial control, giving both general readers and specialists alike a fresh look at the source material of the ongoing “Tolkien phenomenon.” – Amazon.

Gybauskas is the editor of 2023’s edition of The Battle of Maldon: together with The Homecoming of Beorhtnoth by J. R. R. Tolkien. That certainly establishes his bona fides as a ‘leading Tolkien scholar’; he doesn’t seem to be one of those people who on a whim pick up a pen and whip out some sort of screed because Tolkien is popular and would give their work an immediate hook.

“[He] is an American, independent scholar of Medieval and fantasy literature and the work of J.R.R. Tolkien.

He teaches classes on Tolkien in the English department of University of Maryland, College Park, and had studied English literature with Verlyn Flieger.” – The One Wiki to Rule Them All ( https://lotr.fandom.com/wiki/Main_Page ).

I ordered this book on the 5^th of November and have been awaiting its arrival since the 15^th. I decided to go with the softcover edition for economy’s sake; I don’t have to have a hardcover unless it’s something by J. R. R. or Christopher himself. I was expecting it from the 15^th to the 25^th, but it finally came on the 29^th. It was in great, pristine condition, however, indeed shrink-wrapped in that tight fashion that makes you think you might damage the book just getting it out.

The cover is by Ted Naismith, showing Tuor (and Voronwe) spotting Turin from afar, going on his own journey. This is the closest the two cousins ever come to meeting. Perhaps a good example of a ‘might-have-been’, a tale untold because it never happened.

I’m only a little way into reading it but am already finding it informed, informing, and insightful, drawing together thoughts and implications that I’ve never heard before, but which ring true with the source material. I can see that this is another invaluable addition to Tolkien scholarship, and I can hardly wait to get it all under my belt. It is slim, but not slight. Of its 160 pages, 38 are notes, a list of works cited, and an index.

Peas and Thank You

 

Well, by golly, looking back I find that I haven't posted the pea salad recipe here yet. So here it is.

PEA SALAD

3 cans of (this is very important) VERY YOUNG TENDER Peas

1/2 of a medium white Onion, chopped

3 Hard-boiled Eggs, chopped

16 oz. Cheddar Cheese, grated

1 cup (or so) Real Mayonnaise

Salt and Pepper (to taste, but not much salt, or even none)


There is no particular order to the ingredients, but I like to add the peas last to keep from squishing them. Also, it's best to sort of lift the ingredients gently together to mix them, rather than stirring, as this also spares them a mashing. You can add another can of peas without increasing the other ingredients; this especially helps if you have over-seasoned the dish or added too much mayonnaise.

Here's the order I do things in:

Boil the eggs, cool, peel, chop. Put in bowl.

Chop the onion. Add.

Grate the cheese. Add.

Add the mayo.

Salt [optional] and pepper.

DRAIN the Peas. Add.

Gently lift to mix thoroughly.

Test for taste, and do any adjusting accordingly.

Can be eaten right away, but best with a few hours chill. Best in the first 3 days, but can last a couple days more.

I can not stress the need for young tender peas enough. Pop tried making it with dry soaked peas once (I'm sure they were cheaper) and the result was rare nasty. Even just regular peas aren't as good. Incidentally, did you know there was originally no single word for one pea? 'Pea' is back-formed from the term 'pease' (pease porridge hot), a type of dish made from the vegetable boiled into a mush and flavored with bacon or ham.

Thanksgiving 2024, Including Its Prelude

 

[For context, my niece Kaitlyn (with little Julia growing inside), her husband Ryan, and their little boy Ollie (the Tovars) were coming over to stay the night and then have Thanksgiving with us the next day. Ollie had been wary and stand-offish of me (they told me he had been rather traumatized by a Santa Claus last Christmas) so I was determined that we would be friends by the end of this visit. I can understand his feelings; I myself was a little scared of my Mom’s brother Uncle Bazzel, who was large and bearded and a bit of an intimidating figure. But then I don’t remember him ever trying to be friendly per se; he was just himself and expected that everyone else had to adjust.]

 11/27/24: Awake about 5:30 AM. Prayers and Bible. Adam- 12 and cartoons. Litany. Went in about 9:30 AM. Got mail. Heated up cheese noodles for Kameron. I baked the cornbread (six packs), made the pea salad, then boiled the eggs (about 26, but who’s counting?), and peeled them. Went back to rest a while. Litany. Though I had ordered three cans of peas for the pea salad, I ended up using four cans, as usual. That’s what I should order every time.

At 1 PM I went out and chopped onions. Gathered pictures for ‘a sketchy family history.’ About 5:30 PM I knew the Tovars were here because their dogs Jade and Kia were barking in the back yard. Went in and greeted them; I gave Ollie the Great Owl figure from Bambi (Disney Happy Meal).

While we all sat and talked Ollie grew more and more used to me. Ryan took the turkey out to prep, and I took the innards (liver, gizzard, heart, neck and schwanz) to boil for gravy. He basted with a needle and dry rubbed the bird, then he and Susan wrapped it up in a pot. K&R told us they had about 6 extra foil baking pans but had forgotten them while getting stuff together. I said such lacunas were traditional at Thanksgiving. I put the cooled ‘giblets’ into the fridge.

 Just as he was wrapping up with the turkey for tomorrow Kaitlyn returned with Dairy Queen for us all (Andy paid, and she picked them up). I don’t remember the last time I had any kind of burger! I think I impressed Ollie (anyway it caught his attention) by praying on my own, even though we all prayed together afterward. By the time I left about 7:45 PM he had thawed enough to give me a good night hug, and even was saying BB (my nickname).

Puttered around about an hour, then laid down. Started rosary. Awake again at 1 AM and finished rosary. Caught up diary. Now almost 2 AM.

 

11/28/24: Thanksgiving Day! I never really got to sleep again, maybe a few fitful patches. Took a shower about 3 AM. Back at the Dream Wars, going back to some form of working at Gatti’s, and then some anxiety dreams about getting to the family gathering (even though I’m here already). Up for sure at 5:15 AM. Adam-12. Prayers, Bible, and Litany. Cartoons at 6 AM, which included two of the Thanksgiving shorts I’ve blogged about, Holiday for Drumsticks and The Little Orphan. Took an hour to write and post ‘A Sketchy Family History.’

Went in at 8 AM. Cooked the onions in chicken broth with 2 sticks of butter, then mixed them with the cornbread, pepper, and parsley flakes. Then Kaitlyn helped me make the deviled eggs. Andy and Ryan appeared with donuts and kolaches for breakfast; I had a donut. I took out the giblets, minced them, then used some more broth (no drippings from a baked turkey this year) to make the gravy. Kaitlyn made cheese noodles (her specialty, much better than ordinary cheese noodles), I put the stuffing in to bake, then I spent about an hour peeling and chopping potatoes, then boiled them and made mashed potatoes. In the interim, Kelsey and her Ryan arrived, bringing soda, and the two Ryans proceeded to set up on the kitchen porch and began deep frying the turkey (no mishaps there, they were being very careful as this was their first-time deep frying). Andy joined them to watch over the process.

During the morning, Ollie began a little wary of me still, but grew more and more used to me as the day progressed.

I had told John that our target for eating was 1 PM, but that we would be glad if they came earlier so we could visit even more. Kaitlyn helped me with the rolls and the cranberry sauce. I brewed a pot of tea. As the hour drew nearer and the turkey was done, we became more anxious, but the Babels arrived at 1 PM on the dot, just as the Ryans were carving the bird.  The Babels brought green bean casserole, orange whip, pecan pies, and I want to say something else, but my mind is blocking (oh yes, sweet potatoes). We all prayed together in a circle (Ryan T. officiating) and then we dug in.

I should note that we had Christmas movies playing in the background all the time, Fred Claus and Elf and National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. No-one paid them much attention as we were busy visiting. While we were talking, I mentioned the commercial from Zales, “Mamacita, Donde Estes Santa Claus” and it played just then for the first time (but not the last time!) that day. It was quite an earworm after that, with Susan especially singing it for hours afterward.

After we had eaten, I felt that I had had a little too much and went to lay down in the guest house a while. After a bit John came out to visit (and to be sure I’m alright, I’m sure), followed by Kameron and Joey. John looked at the Wicked Witch of the West figure and the Tolkien’s poems volumes while he was here (he had seen neither yet).

After a bit I felt better, and we all went inside again. Desserts were being doled out (including a peanut butter cream cheese pie Kaitlyn had made). I did not feel up to that just yet, but had Kelsey bring me a Tupperware dish in and I put two mini-pecan pies (Amy makes them), a slice of peanut butter pie, and a slice of Buttermilk Sky pie with pecans and coconut away for later. Kenny called me at 5 PM and I put him on speaker phone, and we all wished each other a Happy Thanksgiving (he was on his way home from work). He was tickled to hear Ollie crowing and talking in the background.

Kelsey and Ryan left first (off to another party with friends). Susan and Andy began cleaning, divvying up leftovers (I think we had more than usual). I guesstimate about 7 PM the Babels left, and then the Tovars packed their stuff together and left about 7:30 PM. But not before I had got plenty of pictures of Ollie, who was so accepting of me that he actually let me hold him! I regret not getting a picture of the whole family together.

As soon as the Tovars left I went back to the guest house, and was almost immediately relaxed (slumped) after being keyed up (happily so) for hours. I had left the house open all day, so it was getting chilly, and I closed it up. A little later Andy brought me out the diet sodas (Pepsi and Mountain Dew). I laid down and slept a while.

Awake again at 11:30 PM. Decided to catch up the diary and pray my rosary. I’ve now done the one and mean to start the other. My right leg has been hurting me all day, especially my hip. Thank goodness I had plenty of help, especially from Kaitlyn. I didn’t let the pain detract from a wonderful day.

[You can find various recipes, including that for pea salad, elsewhere in this blog. Of course a lot more happened than I can record here; holidays always seem to be a period removed from ordinary time, full of almost infinite details and incident.]

A Sketchy Family History

 

          Pop never showed much of a penchant for drawing, but he had one trick that always amused us. Starting with a rather hourglass figure, he would add horns, eyes, and nostrils to make a cow’s head. In later years he returned to sketching to amuse his grandbabies, and here is a page that includes some early scratchings by the girls as he would let them try drawing themselves.

          Now Mom had much more of a history of drawing and would amaze us by producing realistic pictures. I remember a head of Kenny she drew soon after he was born. We also have an old spiral notebook with some drawings, including some very obviously Fifties-type ladies. I wish I had made scans of them while my copier was still working. The only picture I have from her in the computer archives is this sketch she did of John’s boxer, Millie.

          I don’t know how much influence Nanny had on Mom while she was growing up, but she did paint quite a bit in later years. We had some of her works hanging in Loop Drive for years: a moose walking through a river, a desert road surrounded by cacti stretching back towards blue mountains, a plane on pontoons landing on a lake. I joke that, just like Hitler, she did not use human figures very much. She was pretty good with flowers though, and they were most of her paintings. After Nanny passed, we found one enigmatic canvas by her of a disembodied hand floating in space, clutching a rose. It seems oddly occult.

          Now Mike never drew a whole lot, but when he did it had a strange, savage power. I remember a very early drawing by him of Omi, shown from the side, of her with a cigarette clamped between open teeth. He made rather devastating caricatures of us all, and this sketch by him of Mom, while rather stark, shows a strange talent for capturing a facet of reality.

          When it comes to me, I never did buckle down to drawing until middle school. I was pushed on by wanting to express something my reading, especially of Tolkien, and a couple of basic art classes. I can’t say I ever mastered proportion or a degree of realism (I was mainly dabbling and doodling), but I made up for that with frittering detail that made it look like I was really doing something. Here is my portrait of Mom, made with the help of a projector, and a self-portrait made using a mirror.

Now John, I say, is a real artist, drawing constantly since he was in grade school. His chosen mode of expression was the comic strip, which takes both drawing and writing. We have several epics by him scanned into the Archives. He also did most applying himself to his art, studying several books by famous animators and making constant experiments. Here is his portrait of Mom, and his impression of us boys as kids.

Kenny, I know, does some drawing, and I have a couple of examples of his work in the Archives, but not scanned. I think his style is somehow reminiscent of Mom’s. Most of his expression in Art is in the acting arts, of course.

Now coming to the next generation, we have John’s girl Morgandy, who just seems to be going from strength to strength. Perhaps it is not surprising, given John’s example, and his encouragement and support, something we never quite had from our parents. We had the occasional praise; they just never dreamed it would come to anything. Morgandy is learning very well how to use computer methods, a resource that we, as kids, never could never have imagined having. I think that in some ways she is the culmination of a generational dream. I can just imagine how pleased Mom would be. Here is one of her latest works.

Pop Cultural Detritus

 

A selection from the Little Black Suitcase of various well-played-with toys, many from our earliest days, some from when the nieces and nephews were little. 

Back to the Dream Wars: Arr, Me Hearties

 

Awake about 2:30 AM from a dream of being on a pirate ship. The ship was rotting and falling apart because the pirates were too debauched to care for it. I knew it was about to fall apart, so I went and abstracted some delicate tools (almost like watchmaker’s tools) from the workroom. I didn’t know if they would do me any good, but I thought it would be a shame if they were lost. I put them in my ‘ditty bag’. I also got a blackish bottle with some kind of hard liquor or drug; that I knew would be useful. I felt hostile and suspicious eyes on me as I went about my prepartions to leave.

There was a time when I went out of my way to record my dreams, and took great efforts to remember them. I have a huge file of them, including a record of vivid dreams I remembered from years ago. A couple of years ago I gave up such compulsive recording, however. But I do occasionally jot down the stray odd dream now and then. I call them the Dream Wars, because they tend to pop up when my sleep is unusually disturbed or erratic, and are usually in the nature of some kind of conflict or dubious action. 

2019 Diary: Thanksgiving Week

 

11/22/2019: Anniversary of Pop's passing. Up about 5 AM. Prayers, catechism, Bible. Got dressed. Now it's about 6:50 AM and I'm ready to go get lottery tickets: decided to go whole hog and get Powerball, Mega-millions, and TX Lotto. Still have $2 for the collection. Taking both canes to help spare my right leg.

Well. For all my fancy getting dressed and trussing up my legs, when I looked out it was raining. So, I didn’t go. So, I made some ramen and crackers, and settled in. Over the day I got up to 20 script pages, but when I tried to send it to John it seemed Microsoft 365 wasn’t letting it go through, or John’s service wouldn’t work. After several tries, I think I finally got a version through, but it exhausted my ‘juice’, with which I was hoping to finish up the draft tonight.

Kam came home about 4 PM, while I was letting the Chis out. He had groceries again, of which I wanted to take some cereal and oranges but only took some expiring Italian sausages. Boiled and ate them. Prayed my rosary. Watched most of “Soylent Green”, and now “Jason and the Argonauts” is coming on.

 

11/23/2019: Prayers, catechism, and Bible. Made olive oil Pastaroni for breakfast. S&A went off in the morning, and I got an orange and one of the PB Cup cereal boxes. They took Cricket for her neck thing, and she seems to be doing ok. They spent most of the day cleaning out the storage shed. I did a whole lot of relaxing (with my right leg in constant pain from – walking? Eating a lot of sugary stuff? Deep vein thrombosis?); anyway, no writing. Maybe I’ll finish off Chapter Two after church. At lunch I had stuffing – to which I put twice as much water than needed, having unthinkingly doubled the recipe (stupidity? Brain farts?). S&A gave me some towels and a pillow from their cleaning in the evening. Prayed a rosary (with a decade dedicated to opposing the Satanic Mass in Houston this evening). Made some ramen. It’s now 9:30 PM and after I eat, I may try to hit the hay again. Oh yes, finished Stephen Leacock’s Sunshine Pictures.

 

11/24/2019: “What color is this paper?” he asked. “It is red,” I replied. “Look closer,” he said. “You will see by this one spot that the paper is white. It is the color of the ink with which it is stained that is red.”

Up at 6 AM, dressed, prayers. Left at 7 AM; weather clear and not overbearingly cold. Service today by Father Tony, who covers the circuit when necessary. Christ the King. Afterwards we were all given a free book, “Why It’s Great to Be Catholic.” At collection, I only gave $1 as there wasn’t a second collection as I expected. Mike Stewart and his wife gave me a ride home, which was providential, as my right leg problems continue. Also, Mike’s wife was gathering up some money for a needy family, so I was able to contribute my other dollar, so that fulfilled my conscience dilemma.

After I got home, I read my catechism and Bible. Took a nap, went in for ramen, and saw S&A working on the shed again. Straightened up the house, read Imaginative Conservative essays.

“She found her husband’s broiling soul/ (Ding, dong, all come to the grave)/ And drew it out with a washing pole/ (something like “All men need their soul to save”)” – A part of a poem I wrote in high school based on the Dutch painting of Mad Meg – I remember Fleming reading it out loud with a rather fierce expression.

Just watched “The Simpson’s Thanksgiving of Horror” and found it to be void of humor and content. Sigh. It’s been going downhill for years, and I’ve watched it less and less, but this must be a new nadir.

Now my chest hurts. I wore my copperfit knee things all day and I just took them off and now my chest hurts. Connected? One good thing is that the little skin tag under my right eye that’s been annoying me the past few days has fallen off. Had an apple for supper. Made it through the rest of the animations, then had an hour and a half gap until the new Rick and Morty. Set alarm then watched the show rather sleepily then went to sleep again.

 

11/25/2019: Wow. The year hastens to its end. Up a little before 5 AM, prayers, catechism, Bible. Right leg still hurting. I guess this is my life now (such as it is). Had the heater on all night. Beautiful weather today. Kam is off school this week. Did no writing. Felt okay in the morning, but after I took an afternoon nap felt worse as I struggled through the day as I finished my wash (3 loads, with the new-old towels Susan gave me). Made cucumber salad, couscous, and their fish for supper. Attack on the computer, perhaps the first all year; shut it down and rebooted. Fell asleep after my ramen couscous supper about 5:30 PM and woke about 7:30 PM. Feel no better. My plan: wash up at 8 PM then rosary.

Andy asked me if I wanted Kelsey’s old plastic drawer thing that she took to that training camp. Kam called me at 9 PM for supper. Spent time cleaning the stickers off drawers and cleaning it up (it smells vaguely of cat pee, probably from its night on the porch). John reacted to the script at last, and pretty positively. He had been busy painting their living room all weekend. Tis now slightly after midnight, and I must hit the hay soon.

 

11/27/2019: Such a perfectly fallish day I had a little trouble doing anything, especially since I didn’t have to get Kam off to school. Mild weather, falling leaves. Prayers, catechism, Bible. Despite my lassitude I managed to get through Rose’s backstory in Chapter Two. Blah, blah, regular Tuesday stuff, aside from having to pen up the Rotts at 2 PM for the pool guy, who came for – extra maintenance? Rosary. Hit the hay at about 9 PM. A night of dreams, of which I record a fragment: being a part of a team of dead men working underwater (don’t have to breathe) cataloging a sunken city, disturbing some kind of monster that comes to attack us.

 

11/28/2019: Up at 5 AM, prayers, catechism, Bible. Washed dishes, got dressed. Caught up diary. It’s now 6 AM. Said Rosary about 7 AM. Wrote up to where Mr. Frobisher is introduced. Went in at 9 AM, made ramen, boiled eggs, made pea salad, peeled eggs in my house. A little after 12 PM went in and made devilled eggs; S&A came and took Kameron to sell his cocoa mix. When came back home I made him bacon and eggs, then started the cheesecakes. Found out I overcalculated the stuff needed. Finished at 3 PM. At 3:30 PM started supper (chili, rotini, corn on cob) and grassed and fed Chis. Finished by 4:30 PM and took my supper in and watched The Flintstones. Ate an orange. I feel one big push would finish the Script; can I do it tonight, or should I try tomorrow morning? Church tomorrow is not a day of obligation, but it does meet specially; can I take it? In at 8 PM to wash dishes, then to bed at 9 PM.

 

11/29/2019: Up at 4 AM to write down Goku dream; finished about 5 AM (it was a detailed dream). Prayers, catechism, Bible. Wrote up to Frobisher leaving. Showered, got dressed, still trying to decide whether to go to church, and the next thing I know I’m walking down the street by Wells&Fargo. A nice couple picked me up by Nolte Furniture and take me the rest of the way; we’re the first people there. Spend much of the time praying the rosary on my fingers. Had a nice service with Fr. Greg, who still seems to be having a little trouble after his fall. Afterwards we sang the Gobble Song as a bit of whimsey, changed the missalettes, and got to pick some produce off the Table of Plenty for our Thanksgiving feast. I got an orange. Walked back (picking up an acorn along the way). Home a little after 10 AM and had the orange for breakfast.

We headed out to John & Amy’s at 1:30 PM, with a little detour to get gravy at DG. We got there and found Donna’s brother already arrived to see her father (who had recently been placed on hospice). We took the pea salad, devilled eggs, and cheesecakes in, and after a bit we ate, John leading us in prayer. It was wonderful; turkey, rolls, mashed potatoes, great dressing, cranberries, green bean casserole, little pecan pies. Chris was a pretty good fellow, and as we all avoided politics, we had a fine time. Afterwards we browsed around on their big TV, looking at family pictures, videos (disasters and accidents), and ended up watching ALL “The Phantom of the Opera”, after John just wanted to use it to demonstrate the amazing picture.

 Then we played a couple of games of Scattergories. We packed up and said farewell and got home at about 11 PM. Along the way I couldn’t remember the name of the movie “Stripes”, and it didn’t come to me until the very second before I started typing in Bill Murray. I think my brain might be slowing down.

 

11/29/2019: Up about 5:30 AM with a cramp in my leg that made me wonder “Is this it?” I straightened out and lay still a while, and it felt better, and I got up about 6:30 AM and started the day. Dressed, prayers, catechism and Bible. Watched Perry Mason. Watched “The Song of Bernadette”. Transferred ceramic Santas into tall thin dresser and my papers into the three drawer plastic drawers. Went in at 9 AM and got a stuffing sandwich and some ramen. At 10:30 AM got more ramen and a cheesecake, then sat and napped. Up at 1 PM when Kam called me to let the Chis out. Cricket very sluggish and didn’t want to move. Fed cats early. Worked on making two new documents; one for Chapter 3 and one for notes on Chapter 3. At 4 PM I fed the indoors and let the Chis out again, this time carrying Cricket out, still sluggish, but she peeped and finally managed to poop. Wrote S a note about my concerns for the dog. Made myself another stuffing sandwich. All day long it was drippy and grew warmer the later in the day it got. Said rosary. At 7 PM A came out and told me the rest of the Thanksgiving leftovers were for me. I went in, and S said that Crick was doing fine, and asked me to make the cheesecake for K&RH (they had got a crust, and there was all that filling left over). I told them I had not had a chance to check the porch for mail because of the weather, and A looked out and sure enough there were packages. As I was headed back to the guest house, I almost slipped on the porch going down the stairs; luckily A was there to help me by carrying the plates; otherwise, I would not have had a free hand to catch myself. Came out and ate turkey, stuffing, devilled eggs and a little cheesecake. It’s now 9:16 PM, and I’m ready to wind down for the night. Christmas specials already popping up everywhere of course, but at least now it’s a little more understandable. I wonder sometimes if John and Kenny are just humoring me about the quality of my work, afraid that it will be too depressing or divisive if they gave me any serious criticism, or perhaps they are just too close to be clear-eyed about it (I can’t tell myself). Still, the book did get published, so it at least met the very minimal requirements, I guess.

 

11/30/2019: Up about 5 AM, to write up a dream, then an idea about flipping the perceived script on Harry Potter and seeing the Wizarding World as a metaphor for Christianity in a secular world. Dressed, prayers, catechism and Bible. Dipping around the internet and TV as usual: I seldom record all the snips I look at all the time. A little pain in my chest: heart burn or heart trouble? Will I join the Holiday Death Toll? Not quite 9 AM and I’m wondering when they’ll head out to help Kelsey and Ryan. At least it stopped drizzling.

I hit the hay about 10:30 AM and woke to the noon bell. I lay a while then got up. Went in and got cucumber salad, sausage patties (2 I made in sandwiches of cheese and Miracle Whip), apples and oranges, and ramen with bread. I ate most of it as quickly as I could. Fred dropped in in the afternoon but finding nobody here he left (he set raccoon traps). It’s about 2:40 PM and I’m ready to sleep again. Warm and mostly sunny.

Went in at 4 PM to grass the Chis and feed the pets and found that Kam was still here! S had told me last night that he was going with them, but apparently not. Swept the kitchen porch. Grabbed another ramen to eat later. Dipped in and out of The Great Race on TCM and a Dead Like Me marathon. Almost 6 PM and I getting ready to turn on the back-porch light and the safety lights. Still feeling a little off balance and occasional chest pains, probably gas.

At about 8 PM Andy showed up and told me they were back; he also brought me a half of a burrito, some fajitas, and a flour tortilla. He said K&RH were doing well and seemed happy moving into their new apartment. Prayed the rosary at 9 PM. Want to lay down for a nap and then up at 11:15 PM for The Mask of Demetrios; we shall see.

Notes

Back in those days, I only got $20 every two weeks; John paid me for my writing, which was very kind of him. I was able to parse it out for various things over the weeks. I always had a couple of dollars for the collection plate, and, if the pot was big enough, money for lottery tickets. The tickets were a rather desperate hope for financial independence; now that I have Medicare, my situation is not so dire. I no longer chase lottery tickets (except when a jackpot reaches over a billion dollars) but my writing has also slowed since I don't need that $20 so much anymore. 

I'm rather surprised to realize I apparently don't have a proper copy of Jason and the Argonauts in the Archive. I might need to rectify that soon.

That little plastic dresser of Kelsey's has proved to be very useful; right now it holds all my drawings and hand-written and printed copies of some of my writings.

As you can see, I am at times very insecure about both my health and my ability to write. Sometimes I inwardly resemble that picture of Sydney Greenstreet on The Mask of Dimitrios, a movie that was proving rather elusive at the time, but of which I now have a copy.

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Today I was expecting a book to come in the morning mail. It did not arrive, but Amazon says I should still expect it today. Perhaps ... perhaps because of second deliveries of packages because of the heavy holiday season 'traffic.' I am sorry. I had even prepared most of the post for it last night. It may be a while before it actually gets here.

Update:

Well, Amazon said I could expect it by 8 PM, but it never came. I frittered and fussed all day. Now they tell me it should be here by December 2. 

The Solemnity of Christ the King (Last Sunday of the Liturgical Year)

 

First Reading

Daniel 7:13-14

13As the visions during the night continued, I saw One like a son of man coming, on the clouds of heaven; When he reached the Ancient One and was presented before him, 14He received dominion, glory, and kingship; nations and peoples of every language serve him. His dominion is an everlasting dominion that shall not be taken away, his kingship shall not be destroyed.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalms 93:1-2, 5

1The LORD reigns; he is robed in majesty; the LORD is robed, he is girded with strength. Yea, the world is established; it shall never be moved; 2thy throne is established from of old; thou art from everlasting. 5Thy decrees are very sure; holiness befits thy house, O LORD, for evermore.

Second Reading

Revelation 1:5-8

5and from Jesus Christ the faithful witness, the first-born of the dead, and the ruler of kings on earth. To him who loves us and has freed us from our sins by his blood 6and made us a kingdom, priests to his God and Father, to him be glory and dominion for ever and ever. Amen. 7Behold, he is coming with the clouds, and every eye will see him, every one who pierced him; and all tribes of the earth will wail on account of him. Even so. Amen. 8"I am the Alpha and the Omega," says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.

Gospel

John 18:33-37

33Pilate entered the praetorium again and called Jesus, and said to him, "Are you the King of the Jews?" 34Jesus answered, "Do you say this of your own accord, or did others say it to you about me?" 35Pilate answered, "Am I a Jew? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me; what have you done?" 36Jesus answered, "My kingship is not of this world; if my kingship were of this world, my servants would fight, that I might not be handed over to the Jews; but my kingship is not from the world." 37Pilate said to him, "So you are a king?" Jesus answered, "You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I have come into the world, to bear witness to the truth. Every one who is of the truth hears my voice."

The Shadow Library: Kai Lung's Golden Hours

"Kai Lung's Golden Hours is a fantasy novel by English writer Ernest Bramah. It was first published in hardcover in London by Grant Richards Ltd. in October, 1922, and there have been numerous editions since. The first edition included a preface by Hilaire Belloc, which has also been a feature of every edition since. It was reissued by Ballantine Books as the forty-fifth volume of the Ballantine Adult Fantasy series in April, 1972. The Ballantine edition includes an introduction by Lin Carter.

"As with other Kai Lung novels, the main plot serves primarily as a vehicle for the presentation of the gem-like, aphorism-laden stories told by the protagonist Kai Lung, an itinerant story-teller of ancient China. In Kai Lung's Golden Hours he is brought before the court of the Mandarin Shan Tien on charges of treason by the Mandarin's confidential agent Ming-shu. In a unique defense, Kai Lung recites his beguiling tales to the Mandarin, successfully postponing his conviction time after time until he is finally set free. In the process he attains the love and hand of the maiden Hwa-Mei." - Wikipedia.

This edition by Dover (2009), as you can see, had a rather crude cover, that never really appealed to me. Perhaps if I had realized it had a preface by Hilaire Belloc, I would have given it more of a chance before selling it. I have since got a sequel in the Ballantine edition, Kai Lung Unrolls His Mat. If I could find Golden Hours in the Ballantine edition for a reasonable sum, I would probably buy it again. And give it more of a fair chance. Although I have come to prefer authentic Chinese tales to Western pastiche.

Twenty Years Ago Today

 

Today is the 20^th anniversary of Pop’s death. He had gone into the hospital some days before for various health complications, arising from his (Lymphoma, I think?  I have a hard time remembering such unpleasant details, although they could be important for future health concerns). We had managed to get together on November 20^th to celebrate both his birthday and Thanksgiving in his hospital room. The hospital knew he was dying then, apparently, and wanted us to take him home; there was nothing they could do for him. We would have, but a flood earlier that year had knocked out our well, and we had no running water, so proper care was impossible; also, heavy rain at the time made transporting him problematic. We might have taken him home anyway if we knew how dire his situation was; it would have been nice for him to be in familiar surroundings. While we waited for conditions to improve, Pop passed away. Susan was with him at the end, comforting him in his final moments. When we boys returned to the watch from a lunch break, he was gone.

Friday Fiction: Of Morlakor Shyreen and the Youth Doravor

OF MORLAKOR SHYREEN AND THE YOUTH DORAVOR

 

I. Disquieting Disappearances of Some Deities

 

Things were definitely not correct in Elrinster. The gods did not answer when invoked, nor did any devil have the civility to appear when conjured. The priests and magicians both made their separate complaints to the divinely appointed Gorsach of Elrinster, but the Beloved of Heaven was as baffled as the lowest hedge wizard in his kingdom.

"The gods are silent," moaned the priests. "The oracles are mute, no message can be determined by the cast of stones or the flight of birds; any amount of human blood merely stains the altar or befouls the floor. Do you help us, Favored of Lords!"

"The demons are gone," the magicians whined, in a somewhat less public interview. "The crystals are clouded, and all meaning has left the cards. No pentacles, nor any amount of incantation, can draw even the smallest imp forth. Do you aid us, Commander of Devils!"

The divinely appointed Gorsach, whose communications with Heaven were rather one-sided affairs (he praying, the gods presumedly listening), and whose power over devils was limited to charms given him by the priests, wisely nodded his head and said nothing to either embassy.

And so the priests and wizards left, rather uneasily, with this vague reassurance. But, even with the concerned attention of the Grand Gorsach, things went from bad to worse. Soon even the little spells, and the little comforters of life, failed or disappeared.

Pregnant women stayed fat and sickly because the stork never arrived, and people continued insomniac through the nights, waiting for the sandman. Even the bogeyman failed to carry away several enterprising boys who had stayed out late in defiance of parental dictates. These imbalances caused the people to grumble, and eventually an envoy was sent to the Gorsach.

The Gorsach, wisely, said nothing.

And so it went on, and then things began to be whispered about the disreputable mausoleum on the outskirts of the city, wherein lived Morlakar Shyreen, a reputed sorceror, who, as yet, had made no complaint.

 

II. Mysterious Magics of Morlakor

 

This dreadful potentate lived in numinous estate, let it be repeated, in an abandoned mausoleum on a high hill on the outskirts of Elrinster. The slopes directly below his dwelling were strewn with tombs and dark yew trees, and even in the brightest of sunlight the hill seemed to be deep in shadow. An iron gate ran all around the foot of the hill, to keep unwary adventurers out and the restless dead in.

As has been said, rumors began to circulate about this Morlakor and his doubtful dwelling. Belated travellers reported that odd, shining persons were passing up the cobbled path to Morlakor's door, and that pale ghosts still walked slowly in Morlakor's garden. So it seemed, to discerning persons, that the hill of this seldom-seen wizard was the last outpost of any magical activity whatsoever.

To which assertion, of course, both priests and magicians disagreed. The gods, the priests contended, were disgusted at recent disbelief among the people and had withdrawn, while the magicians claimed the demons were all off attacking the moon, and would soon return with plunder for those faithful during their absence. Of course, the priests hastily added, heavenly rewards awaited those who obeyed the priests and offered sacrifice for the gods' forgiveness.

And so these went on, discounting the idea that Morlakor now had the approval, company, and blessing of all gods and demons, as was generally held by most discerning persons.

Indeed most inhabitants of the city would go at dusk and wait as near as they dared, to see these shining persons as they passed on to Morlakor Shyreen's house. The priests and magicians execrated and confuted the wisdom of watching these processions, and they spoke of the unutterable and blasting sin that such watching was, and foretold the horrible and inescapable dooms that would come to those thus gazing on beings that were surely mere phantoms devised by Morlakor to mislead the faithful.

Then they disguised themselves as peasants, and went thus to to witness the gods and demons proceeding on their way to the house of Morlakor Shyreen.

So it was that on the sixty-sixth day of the crisis the priest Bolorhayn and the magician Jorg received a message from a passing god, that caused a little hope and much cogitation.

 

III. Subsequent Search for a Savior

 

This message, or rather, as Bolorhayn righteously put it, this revelation, placed an entirely new face on the matter. It was duly relayed to the Grand Gorsach, who received it with pious exclamations and no little relief.

Granted, that some of the particulars of the redemption of all the gods and devils were a trifle stringent. After all, children born of virgins were rare enough to come by, but to find one that was male, born at the spring equinox, and come at least to manhood, was, as even the priests and magicians agreed, almost impossible.

"Nevertheless, such a person must be found," proclaimed the Gorsach, who had a happy gift for recognizing the subtly hidden.

And so a quest and a reward were announced, and the Gorsach's heralds and ambassadors descended on the land like a plague of locusts, scouring the countryside for the needed man.

Finally, at a little village on the far rim of the Gorsach's realm, a herald was benighted along the highway, and had to perforce seek shelter in a crude hut some way off the path. Inside he met a humble woodcutter, of perhaps twenty years of age, who invited him to remain the night.

In return for this kindness, the herald modestly proclaimed his purpose and position as a duke (a slight exaggeration) on a mission for the Gorsach. After a little coarse wine and a rough but hearty meal, he even disclosed that he sought a man, and of what sort.

"Now that is odd," remarked the woodcutter thoughtfully. "For my mother always averred that I had no human father, and certainly, my birthday is in the spring."

The herald, a substantial man and of about middle-age, choked, and nearly expired in a fit of surprise. As soon as he recovered, however, he plied the youth with questions.

It seems that his mother had been visited by an apparition by night, and nine months later had been delivered of a son. Such escapades, of course, upset the neighbors, who promptly stoned her as a harlot, and took the boy away to be raised in the most polite and civil atmosphere available.

So it was that the youth Doravor had grown up to be a woodcutter.

Notes

Now this little fragment goes straight back to my Junior days in high school. I had just discovered the work of James Branch Cabell, in the Del Rey editions, and was rather besotted with his writing style. I had to try it out. The result was ... difficult and indifferent, and I never completed the tale. Morlakor Shyreen (whose name echoes Cabell's figure of Miramon Lluagor, and which name would later go on to be appropriated for the omnipotent being in the Ortha/Goldfire/Morg stories) would be revealed to be the ultimate power in this universe, with Doravor to take his place as his begotten son before he moved on to another venture. For this to happen Doravor would have to slay Morlakor's incarnate self, so becoming the God of his world. Thus I tried to work out a 'mythic' tale, while turning my hand to some 'Cabellic' irony. I would not try this style again until The Gods in Flight, which see elsewhere in this blog.