Remembering Uncle Wiggily

The "Myers Family Farm" a couple of miles north of Beaman, Iowa, is the setting of many of my growing-up memories. The old house where my grandparents lived is long gone, but I can still clearly remember it and much of what happened there.

"Uncle Wiggily" stories often played an important role in our visits there. So when Garrison Keillor's April 25 Writer's Almanac included the following paragraph, I took notice:

"It's the birthday of writer Howard R. Garis, born in Binghamton, New York (1873). His most famous character is Uncle Wiggily, a gentlemanly old rabbit who always wears a suit and a silk top hat. Garis was a reporter for the Newark Evening News and he wrote hundreds of children's books, many of them as a ghostwriter. He published his first Uncle Wiggily story in a newspaper in 1910, and it was so popular that he ended up publishing an Uncle Wiggily story six days a week for more than 30 years. By the time he retired, he had written more than 10,000 stories about the rabbit."

A quick survey of on-line resources reveals that Garis wrote and "ghost wrote" far more than the Uncle Wiggily stories, and some say as many as 15,000 "Uncle Wiggily" stories for more than 40 years. It also reminded me of some of the Uncle Wiggily characters, particularly his main adversaries, "The Pipsisewah" and side-kick, "The Skeezicks."  Most of the rest of the stories themselves I have long forgotten, although the Wikipedia summaries jogged a few memories. 

It seems to me that the stories were often new to me, though I am quite sure that only means that there were several books with several stories in each book. I know my grandparents didn't subscribe to the Newark newspaper, so even if the daily stories were still being published in the late 1940's and early 1950's, that's not where I heard and read them. So far as I know, Uncle Wiggily was not represented in my own home, most likely because my parents knew it was good to have something new for us kids to do while visiting my grandparents.

There was also an "Uncle Wiggily" board game in the farmhouse, I believe. I remember playing it with my grandmother. She always found time to do fun things with her grandchildren, despite all the work a farm-wife had to do in those days. My grandparents Myers were very family-oriented people, for which I am grateful.

I may decide to see if our library has any Uncle Wiggily books I could check out and read. On the other hand, I should probably be guided by Howard Garis' wisdom (which Keillor reports):

"He (Garis) said, 'Half the fun of nearly everything, you know, is thinking about it beforehand, or afterward.'"

Epilogue: Maxine just dug out “Uncle Wiggily’s Happy Days,” which her Uncle Ray gave her for Christmas, 1951. Now I remember: the best part of each story was the final paragraph. Now they were fun!

FLAB Celebrates Legislative Success

The Executive Director of Freedom to Love All Bombs (FLAB) last night called last week’s Senate procedural defeat of a bill to limit the availability of bombs “a great victory for freedom-loving Americans, and a resounding affirmation of the sacred inspiration of the Second Amendment.”

Seated in his office surrounded by guards wearing backpacks, Flame LaPeeair expressed special appreciation to the 41 Senators who voted against the measure. Their votes prevent the Senate from voting on the measure itself, though many polls show a large majority of Americans supported it.

“Isn’t democracy great?” LaPeeair asked. “We have proven, once again, that FLAB’s money and threats are effective in Washington. We will continue the fight to assure that the God-ordained, constitutionally-protected, and down-right pleasurable right of all Americans to keep bombs in their homes and carry them on their persons is never compromised.”

As if to demonstrate his organization’s increasing power, LaPeeair asked one of the guards to show the audience of reporters the contents of his backpack: a pressure-cooker with ball bearings rolling around inside. Some circuitry was attached, but it was covered with a red bandana. Kevin O’Brien, a member of the editorial staff of the dying Cleveland Plain Dealer, reached out and began to caress the pressure cooker with his finger tips, but the guard quickly slapped his hand away. Fox news reporters also tried get close to the presumed bomb, while those from NPR were seen to draw back a little. One Fox photographer was overheard to comment that NPR obviously didn’t understand the power of FLAB in Congress.

LaPeeair outlined next goals for the group: to work closely with the National Rifle Association (NRA) to extend the concealed carry laws that are now in effect in many states to include bombs; to seek legislation to allow passengers to board airplanes with bombs; and to make it illegal to teach dogs to sniff out bombs. “The only person who can stop a bad guy with a bomb is a good guy with a bigger bomb,” he asserted (again). “Imagine what would have happened at the Boston Marathon if everyone in that crowd had had a bomb.”

“All of this future work will take a lot of money and effort,” he commented. “But freedom-loving Americans know that the Second Amendment’s protection of the right to keep and bear arms means we all have a right to all the bombs we want.” He went on to ask with a smirk: “How else will we protect ourselves from the likes of ‘O-Bomb-A’?”

One reporter started to ask more about the Boston Marathon. But LePeeair was already on his way out of the room; an aid mumbled something about how FLAB takes neither questions nor prisoners.

An unnamed source told this reporter that FLAB’s staff was on his way to a victory party with leading Republicans, where an opening prayer to gentle Jesus (meek and mild) would be followed by a display of mass weaponry. Enormous amounts of tea were said to be the partiers’ drink of choice.

Bach to Orff

Last night we heard the Cleveland Orchestra, Chorus, Children's Chorus and three outstanding soloists performed Orff's Carmina Burana at Severance Hall. No less exciting, but much different in tone, was the opening work: Bach's Concerto in A major for oboe d'amore and orchestra, with soloist Robert Walters. Because of Franz Welser-Most's back problems, James Feddeck, the orchestra's assistant conductor, was on the podium.

A couple of quibbles: Feddeck is a dynamic conductor, perhaps a little over-dynamic on the Bach, looking sometimes like a contestant on "Dancing with the Stars".  There were times in the Orff when not all forces were quite in synch, and chorus director Robert Porco's penchant for clear diction resulted in a rush of annoying "ssss" sounds in the opening and closing "O Fortunas."

But, having said that, this is a concert that demands to be heard, and if possible, seen. The Bach piece on Walters' oboe d'amore was ravishingly beautiful. The Chorus and Orchestra overwhelmed the hall with the dynamics and rhythms of the Orff. The Children's Choir was perfect (how did they get them to stand so still for so long when they weren't singing?). And the vocal soloists turned the evening into first-rate operatic performances: soprano Rebecca Nelson was deeply in love; baritone Stephen Powell was obviously drunk; and tenor Nicholas Phan was everything a roasted swan could ever be. His performance alone was worth the price of admission.

So, if you live in the Cleveland area, get yourself to Severance Hall this weekend. If you can't do that, I understand the concert will be broadcast and streamed live on WCLV-FM on Saturday night at 8:00 pm, eastern daylight time. If you don't know Carmina Burana, I am sure you can find the words on line. Have fun with it, however you get to it. It is, after all, spring...even in northeast Ohio.

Lots of fish this time

Fishing in the Keep of Silence

by Linda Gregg

There is a hush now while the hills rise up
and God is going to sleep. He trusts the ship
of Heaven to take over and proceed beautifully
as he lies dreaming in the lap of the world.
He knows the owls will guard the sweetness
of the soul in their massive keep of silence,
looking out with eyes open or closed over
the length of Tomales Bay that the egrets
conform to, whitely broad in flight, white
and slim in standing. God, who thinks about
poetry all the time, breathes happily as He
repeats to Himself: there are fish in the net,
lots of fish this time in the net of the heart.

"Fishing in the Keep of Silence" by Linda Gregg, from All of It Singing. © Graywolf Press, 2008. Reprinted with permission.

An Assassin When We Need One

“Where is Lee Harvey Oswald now that we need him?

The small bumper sticker on the back bumper of the white panel truck smacked me in the face. I had pulled up behind it to wait for the car ahead to turn left. The famous picture of Oswald and his rifle illustrated the provocative and disturbing question.

The truck may have been just old enough to carry such a message with George W. Bush in its sights. But even if that truck did go back to “W’s” administration, I doubted Lee Harvey Oswald was being wished on him. I know to whose head the question was aimed.

There were no other markings on the back of the truck to tell me if its driver might be a plumber or electrician or any of the many people who drive such vehicles. The bumper sticker was so low on the truck that you might not notice it if you walked around it, or toward it. It was almost as if the owner wanted it on his vehicle, but not so it would attract too much attention.

We moved forward, and I pulled to the truck’s left as it prepared to turn right at the next light. No markings on its side, either. I tried to catch a glimpse of the driver’s face, but just as I passed he raised his left hand and blocked my view. Chance or intention, I don’t know.

I am willing to guess he thinks himself a true Patriot. But he isn’t, not at all. We elect and with equal fervor un-elect our leaders. When we don’t want them any more, we use the ballot box to turn them out to pasture. Those who wish Lee Harvey Oswald to come and do the work of democracy for them, or over the will of the majority, simply do not get being citizens of this nation. It’s not patriotism and it’s not democracy: it’s anarchy and it’s chaos.

That driver should hide his message and his face; he should be ashamed. But he shouldn’t be shot.

A Comment on "Comments"

If you read my blog you have perhaps noticed that there may be no way for you to comment on it. I think it used to be easy to do, a box for comments prominently displayed at the end of each post.

Recently I was able to post a test comment by signing into my Google account, but I don't know where that leaves the few who have not yet fallen into Google's clutches. I have tried to implement the online directions on how to open it up to ordinary citizens, but to no avail. Of course, I can't call a human being and ask about it.

Fortunately, a Facebook friend responded to my cry for help, and I now have information on what to do to fix the problem. I know you are eagerly waiting to shoot down my always insightful commentaries, so I will try what she suggested in the next day or two. Meantime, if you can comment on this post, do so...and tell me how you did it on what kind of computer/smart phone/tablet, etc.

Thanks!

Victims of Violence

Underlying the controversy over guns in our country is the reality of our attraction to and love of violence. Television’s commercial "breaks” are awash in the blood of promotions for violent TV series. They promise increasingly gruesome and graphic crimes and punishments. Just the ads turn my stomach, and I don’t watch the shows they hype. Fact is, I don’t watch much television at all, so I am no expert on what’s out there. I depend upon the reports of people like James Poniewozik

In the March 11 issue of Time, Poniewozik writes about “Serial Killing: How TV dramas, good and bad, have become addicted to blood.” He tries to distinguish between shows that include violence as an element in well-constructed plots involving fully-realized characters, and those that simply use violence as a means to attract the coveted young adult male demographic. Either way, violence now plays essential roles in dramas that aspire to success.

We argue about whether immersion in virtual and visual violence makes it more likely some people will resort to real violence as a way to solve real problems and settle real issues. Scientific studies are reported to be inconclusive on the debate. Common sense tells me that if you grow up being told and shown violence as the preferred way of dealing with life you are more likely to chose violence when you feel life pointing a gun at your head.

Strange, isn’t it, that “Christian” America is fixated on violence. I have always thought Jesus was about love, forgiveness, and redemption. When it comes to violence, violence came to him, and he suffered at its hands, not returning evil for evil. If any violence was to be brought into the world, it would come as a result of the judgment of God, not of us visiting it upon one another. Suffering was to be eased, not inflicted, and if it could not be eased, it was to be borne, not brandished. “The one who lives by the sword, dies by the sword,” he who wished the death of no one asserted. “When will ‘they’ ever learn...”

James Poniewozik writes (mostly) approvingly of The Walking Dead, reporting that in one episode a character dies in childbirth. “Before she slips away, she says to her young son, ‘Promise me you’ll always do what’s right.’ After she dies, he picks up a gun and –so she won’t rise as undead–shoots her through the head. Because he loves her.”

Then he writes:

“It’s deeply affecting and human, as mother-son mercy rekillings go. But you know what else is affecting and human? Falling in love, and out of it. Growing up. Chasing a dream that doesn’t involve running guns or drugs. Coping with illnesses that do not terminate in zombieism. TV’s new golden age has given us shows that couldn’t have existed 20 years ago. But it hasn’t yet found much room for personal, grownup dramas like...”

I’ll leave the shows he feels meet that test up to your judgment, you who know television much better than do I. All of us could well take a hard look at how our culture’s obsession with violence afflicts our own souls and the quality of our life together.