As Easter approaches, bleak
news on the candy front.
Cadbury’s, the staid old British
firm that produces such
splendid cream eggs, has
itself been gobbled up by the
American giant, Kraft.
The Cadbury’s name will remain
on the cream eggs; but
in the future, be careful. Some
may be stuffed with Velveeta.
In face of the takeover,
and as a comfort to you and
to me, I’m offering you your
Easter basket a week early. Its
contents are two final stories
from our recent England trip.
The events occurred within
minutes of one another; but
there’s some other, more
elemental link between them
that I sense but just can’t
pinpoint. Maybe you can.
Our first English week was
in Chichester, that dear old
cathedral town not too far
from Portsmouth. Early one
morning, I rode the bus into
the town center, intending a
quiet day of enjoying a place
that, again, I never expected
to see again. On arrival, I
opened my day of celebration
at a small restaurant down a
narrow, cobbled side street.
Wickedly, I ordered a classic
``cooked breakfast,’’ a lovely
spread of comfort foods and,
I suspect, a real maelstrom of
cholesterol. Not something
youÆd want very often, it features
a couple of fried eggs,
British bacon, baked beans, a
grilled tomato, and, if it’s the
real thing, a link of black pudding.
The last is hog’s blood,
simmered till it darkens and
thickens. It’s then made into
a link sausage. I’d call it an
acquired taste, like the Scots’
haggis or the Norwegians’
lutefisk. No black pudding
for me that day; I have some
self-control.
The first of my two events
occurred as I walked toward
the 11th-century Chichester
Cathedral, ambling along a
slate sidewalk between cathedral
and West Street. To my
left and down a slight slope,
a wide spread of lush grass
stretched to the building’s
side wall. To my right, alongside
the street, a bus shelter
held a cue of patient, waiting
Brits. An overcast day, and
comfortably brisk. So much
for scene-setting.
From the bus shelter, a lad
of about four escaped his
mother and galloped down
the slope onto the greensward.
It was a cold enough
that Mum had him sealed up
in a hooded snowsuit. Well,
you know I’m a sucker for
kids; I stopped to watch his
progress.
The lad picked up a fallen
twig about the length of his
arm, and was at once deep
into some man-against-monster
fantasy. He brandished
the stick above his head and,
considering his very small
lungs and voice box, produced
a creditable battle cry.
``ARRRGH!’’ he roared and
charged an invisible, much
larger foe. To my delight he
vanquished it, ending with a
foot clamped on its chest and
a flourish of the stick. Then he
turned toward further adventures_
and spotted an ancient
and half-sunken tombstone,
rising out of the grass only to
about half his height.
Again came his ``ARRRGH!’’
as he charged this new monster,
one dragging itself out of
the earth. ``Uh, oh,’’ I thought.
``He’s going to try to leap that
stone.’’ I saw at once that the
snowsuit legs were too baggy
to allow it, but leap he did. He
was partly successful.
The lad pivoted over the
small stone and ended hung
up on it, head on the ground,
legs waving behind. No roar
now; just a little boy’s panicked
cry. He struggled and
freed himself to fall sideways
onto the grass. I thought sure
he was going to cry. But then
he saw some old man watching
him from the sidewalk.
This warrior wanted no
sympathy. He picked himself
up, found his stick, and brandished
it at me. ``ARRRGH!’’
he roared, and galloped off to
attack the cathedral wall. Oh,
thanks, lad! What a show!
Then, in minutes, the
second event. I walked on
and rounded the base of the
bell tower. Between it and
the cathedral main entry
was a statue I don’t remember
seeing before. On a tall
granite plinth and made of
burnished steel, it represented
St. Richard of Chichester, a
12th-century bishop of that
very cathedral. A holy and
compassionate man, Richard
took special care of the poor.
He was much loved, and was
canonized not long after he
died. A short prayer that he
wrote was carved into the
statue’s stone base. As I stood
reading it, I realized it was
memorizing the prayer. It was
entering my heart.
The prayer’s first short
paragraph was thanks for all
of one’s life’s blessings and
for Christ’s bearing pain and
insult for humankind’s sake.
Then the prayer eased away
from formality, addressing
Christ directly as savior; then
friend, then, movingly, as
brother. And there followed
lines that seemed to leap forward
to the 1970’s, then back
to St. Richard’s time:
``Let me see you more
clearly, love you more dearly,
follow you more nearly, day
by day.’’
Yes. The writers of ``Godspell’’
had pirated Richard’s
prayer, though I’m sure the
old bishop didn’t mind. (And
of course, no copyrighting
back then.) But if you’re about
my age, you’ll remember
those gentle words and the
lilting melody that accompanied
it. ``Day by day, day
by day, these three things, O
Lord, we pray:’’ Then, in three
phrases, the whole Christian
pilgrimage is summarized.
Now, how do those two
events outside the cathedral,
that little boy warrior, so vulnerable
but so full of zest; and
the twelfth-century bishop
and his eloquent prayer_why
are they bonded in my spirit?
Beats me, friends. And so I’ll
just leave them in your Easter
basket. Let me know if you
figure them out. Meanwhile,
Easter blessings on you, day
by day!
READ ABOUT Jim Atwell’s book, From
Fly Creek--Celebrating Life in
Leatherstocking Country, at JimAtwell.
com.
Columns
Jim Atwell: Here’s your Easter basket
- Columns
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In These Otsego Hills: The losses are adding up ...
It is with sadness that we note the passing of long time friend, and distantrelative, Jane Patrick. Over the years we have worked with Jane in a number of organizations including Women’s Club and the Community Advisory Committee at Bassett. And, of course, in later years we joined her, along with the other Dinner Belles, for any number of delicious meals. But we do think that our favorite memory that we shared with Jane was when we discovered, having both married Cooperstown natives, that we shared Cooperstown Christmas plans.
Continued ... -
Up On Hawthorn Hill: Bird Feeder?
Bird feeder is a relative term. At least that is the case around here. A few mornings ago we spotted the first rabbit to visit the feeders. Normally, all we see during the winter are rabbit tracks crisscrossing the gardens.
Continued ... -
From Fly Creek: Cheers for the Blue Rabbit!
My handwriting’s always been an embarrassment. Way back in elementary school, while most of the others were developing a clear, sometimes graceful hand (especially the girls), my penmanship showed no improvement.
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In These Otsego Hills: This and that ...
We have found the weather so far this year to be on the unusual side. And while we have no problem with the fact that we have received very little snow, we are of the opinion that what we have had instead is not particularly to our liking either. In fact, we are very hesitant to venture out much as we live in fear that the rain will turn to mixed precipitation which will freeze into a sheet of ice. And we are definitely opposed to encountering a sheet of ice underfoot. In fact, we are so hesitant that we now have taken to canceling our participation in events based on what just might be a dubious forecast.
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Book Notes: Feinstein’s latest is sheer enjoyment
Most people who follow sports have probably heard of John Feinstein. As a nationally known author, sportswriter, pundit and broadcaster, he has brought a unique angle to sports journalism. His groundbreaking book on Bobby Knight’s 1986-87 Indiana University basketball team, “A Season on the Brink,” still resonates today as an all-time classic.
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Book Notes: No Trekkie should miss Shatner’s books
It would be hard to find a television phenomenon as popular as “Star Trek.” Even though it was only on television for three seasons and 79 episodes (1966-69) it attracted viewers and devotees that still follow it passionately 45 years later. The fanatical supportspawned several movies and television spinoffs. Star Trek conventions continue to this day. There has never been anything like it.
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Up on Hawthorn Hill: Making sense of things
A book I have been reading investigates the various ways over time that we have made sense of the world. It carries the reader through to the present via several seminal classical texts and ultimately aims to suggest a strategy for “ finding meaning in a secular age.”
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In These Otsego Hills: ‘Property must be secured or liberty cannot exist.’ − John Adams
Last week we were asked if we would be interested in previewing a documentary, “The Empire State Divide,”produced by the Foundation for Land & Liberty. And we were more than happy to do so as we understood the documentary dealt with the problems that continue to face family farms.
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From Fly Creek: Now wait a minute!
On the ninth day of Christmas, driving down Cooperstown’s Eagle Street, I saw something astounding! No, not “nineladies dancing, eight maids a-milking, seven swans” etc. I saw one jogger jogging. And puffing on a cigarette.
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In These Otsego Hills: Goals of the past and goals of the future
We have long subscribed to the concept that we are always more successful if we, number one, set a goal and then, number two, meet it. And this was our thinking when we decided before Christmas to watch at least part of every college football bowl game. It was perhaps an odd, if not completely nonsensical, goal.
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In These Otsego Hills: Not to our liking ...
It is with sadness that we note the recent death of Steve Nagel. The son-inlaw of our late husband’s cousins, Alice and Harvey Eckler of Fly Creek, Steve was married to the Ecklers’ oldest daughter, Gail. We had the pleasure of spending Christmas Eve with the Nagels and the Ecklers in Fly Creek, greatly enjoying the delicious food and delightful conversation.
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Up on Hawthorn Hill: Of birds and faith
I watch birds quite a bit. Every five days or so I send in a report to Cornell as partof its annual Project Feeder Watch program. The data, collected from volunteers from all over the country, enables scientists to track population trends. I would spend quite a bit of time checking out the visitors to our feeders anyway. Participating in the feeder program makes a personal pleasure that much more meaningful. It is rare that aesthetical and scientific endeavors work in tandem.
Continued ... -
Book Notes: Biography captures the real Stephen Colbert
It would be hard to find a comedian as unique as Stephen Colbert. As the host of “The Colbert Report” on Comedy Central he hasmanaged to leave his mark on the nation’s consciousness in both a serious and humorous sort of way. His unusual wit has allowed him to become American icon. It would be difficult to find another entertainer quite like him.
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From Fly Creek: Christmas and varied blessings
I’m still astounded! The last farmers’ market before Christmas, I was sitting up front, directly under the ceiling heater, shmoozing with the hoi-polloi. (That’s an awkward linguistic mix,but let’s let it go.) As I sipped my hot coffee, a gloved hand came to rest on my shoulder and a warm voice said, “Merry Christmas, Jim.” I looked to my left—it was Santa Claus!
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In These Otsego Hills: Always a learning experience ...
We must admit that we thoroughly enjoyed our 2011 Christmas celebration. We partook of Christmas Eve dinner at the home of Alice and Harvey Eckler of Fly Creek and Christmas Day dinner at the home of Sandy and Al Bullard of Milford. We had our usual Christmas Day brunch at home on Pioneer Street, although we must admit it was a tad bit later than usual as, what we enjoyed most about Christmas, namely our granddaughter Abby, took a great deal of time opening her Christmas presents.
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In These Otsego Hills: Coming up ... 2012
Difficult as it seems, 2011 is fast coming to an end. And it is always our hope that as a year draws to a close, the issues which have been in the forefront during the year will be resolved. Unfortunately, we suspect that will not be the case this year. Instead, we are fairly certain that many of the issues that plagued this year, will continue to plague next year. Thus we will find ourselves still musing about the same issues we have spent time with already. And while we have not come toany conclusions about many of the issues, we do think they would all likely benefit from both sides thinking critically about perspective, risk assessment and possible solutions.
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Up on Hawthorn Hill: Circularity
When she was a puppy my dog Gabby would run in what I described then as “circles of joy.” She celebrated her15th birthday a few weeks ago and despite the inevitable frailties that old age imposes upon all of us, she is doing pretty well.
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Book Notes: Grisham doesn’t disappoint
John Grisham is one of this country’s most popular authors. Every time he publishes a book it’s an instant best-seller. He appeared on the scene about 20 years ago with his tense legal thrillers, “A Time to Kill” and “The Firm,”and hasn’t stopped producing top-notch novels since.
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From Fly Creek: Still singing, beyond our hearing
This column from Christmas 2001 still speaks deeply to me, and perhaps will to you, too. Take it, please, as my Christmas gift.
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In These Otsego Hills: The 2011 Cooperstown Carol
Since 1984, with the exception of one year, 1999, we have looked forward at the end of the year to going through all the issues of the paper in order to glean those news items which have been worthy of note throughout the year and which should make their way into our annual Cooperstown Carol.
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In These Otsego Hills: The losses are adding up ...
