Month: November 2015

Vintage Supernatural

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One week ago, Supernatural (Episode 11.5) took the brothers to the site of the grisly 19th century murders of Andrew and Abby Borden, father and step-mother of Lizzie Borden. There is much controversy as to who murdered them in their home, the popular nursery rhyme sing-songing one theory:

Lizzie Borden took an axe
and gave her mother forty whacks,
when the job was finally done
gave her father forty one

Amazing what lurks in the childhood memories and recesses of our minds. It comes unbeckoned as if I were still jumping rope in the grassy courtyard where I grew up far, far away from the murder of her parents. Lizzie was put on trial and acquitted. She died of pneumonia in 1927. Her sister died nine days later. Despite having not seen each other in many years, they are buried side by side. There is a monument that marks Lizzie’s final resting place.

In her will, Lizzie left money to pay for the perpetual care of her father’s cemetery plot.

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Lizzie Borden

In viewing the previews for this episode, titled Thin Lizzie, they mention the family home in Fall River, Massachusetts, not all that far from where I live. I thought the Bed & Breakfast mentioned was a joke – was there really a place? One Google search and there it was. And before anyone asks, no, I have no desire or intention of visiting, no matter how close it is.

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Borden Family Home that is now a Bed & Breakfast & Tourist Attraction

Some things should be left, and this is one of them.

On the morning after the episode aired, the Washington Post had an article, Would you buy a murder house? I personally don’t know, and I hope I don’t find out. I certainly do believe that houses can have spiritual remnants of previous owners, not to mention other places where spirits dwell. I’ve had my own encounters, the most visceral being in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, both on the battlefield and in the Jennie Wade House, one of the places that is always on my to see list. I had gone as a child, and again while on vacation with my husband, and then went again while on vacation with my three children. There is something compelling about Jennie’s house and her story that calls to me. I’ve been searching for the last week to find the photos that I’ve taken at the house, both in the 70s with my family and again in 2008, I believe with my children. I have a memory in a darkened stone masoned cellar that you had to climb down into from the outside. I’m not sure why that flashed through my head as I’m writing this.

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The house where Jennie Wade was killed

The Jennie Wade House is located on a major road in Gettysburg; one that is extremely busy with traffic. It is in a tourist area, and directly across from a Rita’s Italian Ices Shop. My kids sat on the benches eating ices, and I watched the house, seemingly waiting for something to happen. Her death created the name of the landmark, although it is not actually Jennie’s house; it is her sister’s. Her sister had just had a baby, and Jennie and their mother came to help her. Jennie was baking bread, kneading the dough in the kitchen that adjoined the street. A stray bullet came through the front door, lodging in Jennie’s back, severing her spine and killing her.

She is the only civilian casualty in the city during the Battle of Gettysburg.

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Jennie Wade

Ever since I was a little girl, I have always felt a presence in this house. Despite the obvious, poor special effects in the kitchen that give the soldier mannequin his face as he narrates the story of that fateful day, there is still something powerful in the “talking walls”. His projected face scared me beyond belief as an adolescent, and I still had that creepy vibe when I went there as an adult. I know much of the sounds and creaks were theatrics, but you couldn’t help but feel something in this house and that some of those “theatrics” weren’t all faked.

In the preview and then last week’s episode, Supernatural showed some artifacts from the house. I don’t know if they were really artifacts of the Borden murders or props made to look like the actual items, but the photo of Lizzie reminded me both of Jennie Wade and Laura Ingalls; possibly because of the camera techniques of the 19th century, the black and white, head and shoulders, the pose, the lace collars and pinned hair. It led me down a rabbit hole of googling and reading various accounts from both times of both of their lives, Lizzie and Jennie. They couldn’t have been more different, and I wondered at what point childhood me decided to devote so much of my time to Jennie rather than the nursery rhyme. Maybe I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea of killing my parents. For a variety of reasons, I would never, but still why was I compelled to ignore her? I almost skipped the episode because the subject matter bothered me. I still wonder why I was never interested in Lizzie’s story – did I think she was guilty? I don’t know. I was much more compelled to the story of poor Jennie, baking bread for the soldiers. Her fiance was killed hours before she was. Neither of them knew the fate of the other.

I do love a good mystery, but I think I might need to not only have compelling characters, but also ones that are easier to feel compassion for, to put myself in their shoes, and I suppose, no, as I’ve said, I know that I could much more easily do that with Jennie Wade.

Masada

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Photo credit: Andrew Shiva

When I was a young person, I was lucky enough to go to a religious school that focused on the wonderful, rich Bible stories and Jewish history from the beginning of time. It was a special time, and it was more sacred for me than attending Saturday services. We learned the songs and the traditions of  of all of our holidays, some better well known than others. Between that school and my parents, I learned everything I would teach my own children: how to light a menorah, how to stop and relish in the quiet of Yom KIppur, what counted as bread in this American Jewish family. I adored my teacher, and looked forward to my after-school and weekend classes with joy. I can still picture the classroom where we learned Hebrew in my final year, and the basement rec room where we had our celebrations with songs and food. Prior to that year of Hebrew, we learned Yiddish. I still have the first book that we all had memorized. It was the Jewish version of See Spot Run:

Der kinder.
Der kinder geyn.
Der kinder geyn in shul.

The children.
The children learn.
The children learn in school.

In 1981 there was a miniseries called Masada about the mountain siege of the Israeli Zealots by the Romans. They were led by Eleazar Ben Yair, and there was no surrender. When the Romans were finally able to enter the fortress, they found what was left of their provisions, their mass suicide the statement that they would not return to slavery. There were survivors; two women and five children left to tell the story. I collected newspaper articles and previews of the 1981 series; in fact, I probably still have those clippings in my basement somewhere. Of course, there were some changes for dramatic effect, but it was our story on primetime television.

On my recent visit to my Florida family, my cousin’s son was looking at my aunt’s pictures from their visit to Masada. He recalled his own visit. In our talking, I was reminded of the Peter Strauss miniseries, and he recommended a book that he thought I would like that was about the Israeli fortress.

The Dovekeepers by Alice Hoffman.

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I filed it away in the back of my brain, and came home, forgetting once again about something that had commanded my young life for what seemed like a very long time. Fast forward to one of my library visits. I sat and wrote for about an hour and a half, not including being bothered, and in turn, bothering a random ladybug, and before I knew it, it was time to go.

They’ve been redoing the layout of the library and in order to continue their renovations, they’ve moved shelves and spinny racks. I had to dodge a table, a spinny rack, and found myself in front of a rack of recommended reading. Exactly at eye level was the book my cousin, something removed, recommended. The Dovekeepers. I picked it up, turned it over, and read the synopsis. I didn’t have my library card, so I thought that I would wait and get it next time. As I went to return it to its shelf, there, staring me in the face, directly behind the book in my hand, was the same copy of The Dovekeepers.

I guess I was supposed to take this book home that day!

It was a wonderful journey through the lives of four women, how they each arrived at Masada, and how they found each other, their lives crisscrossing and mirroring the others. There is tradition and magic, and family and love and forgiveness. Knowing the outcome made their stories more poignant. These were strong, powerful women that spoke to me and would speak to anyone interested in history, women and life.

It reminded me of life growing up, the simplicity that we remember wrapped in the real life that was. It’s good to remember the past, and put it into perspective. Now, I have a longer list, but in those moments of high school, Masada was the one place I wanted to see; to stand where choices were made and where so much mattered.

From Death into Life

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There is a line in a hymn, I think it’s sung at funerals or as they’re called in the Catholic church, Mass of Christian Burial. It goes, “from death into life.”

I began attending this celebration of life by accident in one of my early days of attending Mass. I was there, and I couldn’t leave without drawing unnecessary attention to myself, so I remained, hidden in plain sight, in one of the back pews, wishing I was invisible, feeling as though I didn’t belong in such an intimate family gathering. I was, however, wrong – this mass invites the community members, the congregation; to be in communion with the family, to send their loved one on their next journey. I followed the program, I sang along, I prayed, and I found something in that service. I think my first funeral service was for a woman named Dottie. I still have her program in my church papers that I’ve collected and saved.

After that first time, I continued to go to the Rite of Christian Burial when it occurred during the daily mass time. I almost never knew until I arrived at church, and after one or two more, I found great comfort in this Mass.

But I still didn’t get it – that death into life bit.

I could never understand that phrase. How can you go from death into life?

It wasn’t until after my spiritual conversion, and after passing this tree, always on my way to my writing workshop.

On the way to the library, I passed the church adjacent to this tree, and the cemetery that surrounds this tree, and one spring day it was gloriously sunny and bright, and the green leaves had sprouted and grown.

I could see them bright against the white of the siding on the church building; this delicate new growth rising from the fallen tree, its life long thought buried and gone.

This was when I could grasp death into life, life from death, the infinite from finite, everlasting life from our journey on earth.

Now, when I sing the hymn, I picture this tree when I sing death into life.

Nanowrimo and Blogwrimo

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Well, it’s that time of year again. Nanowrimo. NAtional NOvel WRiting MOnth. Every November, several hundreds of potential writers huddle around their writing implements and write. The goal is 50,000 words before November 30th. All new. Begin writing on November 1st, put your pencils (quills or keyboards) down, time’s up on November 30th and you should have the makings of a real novel, ready for the editing process.

This works for some people. I’ve done it twice officially, and for the first two weeks, I went like gangbusters. Eventually, I slowed down, but we all have our paces and our non-writing lives to put up with. In my case, I have a family with three children and my blog and church responsibilities, and even with an extraordinary amount of help from my husband, it can still be a handful to get the incentive to just sit down and write.

Hence, why today I am at the library where there is no television and no bag of Doritos calling my name.

I hesitate to sign up for Nanowrimo officially this year. One of the benefits of signing up are the weekly emails I would get from published writers with their own versions of hang in there. They are less intimidating and more inspiring and some days that’s all you need to get on the writing train.

My Nanowrimo this year is me working two times a week on my books. I have one on my home buying experience – very bad, and one on my visit to Wales and what Wales is to me – very good. Guess which one I’d rather work on? This fall, beginning this month, I’m going to carve out periods of my day where all I do are those two books. Thoughts, outlines, quotations, research. Some of that I may share here as book excerpts.

Another goal for November is to redesign my weekly format here. For example, I think I’m going to make Thursday Travels a regular weekly feature. I am going to have weekly features M-F, possibly adding odds and ends on the weekend. Please, please let me know what you like and how you feel about the format. If you’re not reading, I’m not doing my job, ad I’m willing to accept feedback and suggestions to make this site better.

Vocabulary is something else. You may notice that I usually refer to this as a site rather than a blog. I’m more comfortable in this Word Press format, but I’m trying to make this more of a website, a go-to place. I try to have pages for information and topics like my Crisis Intervention Page, my Photo Credits page, and a new page I’m opening up for my Books Read and Movies Watched. There are many things I want to do with my time here, and one of those is becoming a resource. After years of people coming to me to find out where kids eat free or how to make that smiley face on a text, I think I might create that kind of a resource here, especially for the things that I love and that I love to share like traveling, my spiritual journey and writing.

I’m also including more of my own photographs as well.

This fall season has been phenomenal for family viewing and fandom communion (in a non-religious sense). My two main shows, The Walking Dead and Supernatural are in supreme shape. I’m loving every episode and I have meta coming out of my ears. This will benefit those of you who like the fandom posts. I will probably add a weekly fandom feature, possibly more than once a week if the shows warrant it. I’m also working on some reviews of those lesser known shows like iZombie and Major Crimes. If you love fandom stuff or don’t like it as much as me, I still want to know how you feel so I can include all my readers into the most posts.

All in all, I’m hoping to make a site that people enjoy coming to and sharing.

Get Out The VOTE

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In the United States, today is Election Day. Every citizen, upon turning 18 before Election Day can register to vote in their state. That means that you can vote in school board elections and for school budgets, for local government, state government, federal government, and for the President of the United States (every four years).

If you don’t register, you don’t vote.

If you won’t be in your home district on Election Day, you can request an absentee ballot. College students, disabled people, and the elderly and military personnel often use this. It is up to your state what your qualifications are for the absentee ballot.

Whether you believe it or not, every vote counts. Sitting out an election is the equivalent of voting for the other person.

Simply put, if you don’t vote, don’t complain. Legally, that’s not true – you still retain your first amendment right to say whatever you want about voting or anything else. But it’s not that simple.

If you don’t want to register to vote because you’re afraid that it will put you on the list for jury duty, don’t worry. The courts get your name for jury duty from the DMV. You drive, you’re in the jury pool.

Voting is more than a right. It is a privilege.

It is how we get things done in this country. If we want change, we need to make it happen.

If you feel that your voting isn’t doing enough, get involved in other ways,. Work on a campaign. Work in local areas to make your own community better. Educate yourself on the issues. Do not let the media and talking points (anyone’s talking points) give you the only information on a subject. Research.

The one thing you shouldn’t do is not vote.

GET OUT THE VOTE!

All Souls Day

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Wisdom 3:1-9

The souls of the just are in the hand of God, and no torment shall touch them.

They seemed, in the view of the foolish, to be dead; and their passing away was thought an affliction and their going forth from us, utter destruction.

But they are in peace.

For if before men, indeed, they be punished, yet is their hope full of immortality; chastised a little, they shall be greatly blessed, because God tried them and found them worthy of himself.

As gold in the furnace, he proved them, and as sacrificial offerings he took them to himself.

In the time of their visitation they shall shine, and shall dart about as sparks through stubble; they shall judge nations and rule over peoples, and the Lord shall be their King forever.

Those who trust in him shall understand truth, and the faithful shall abide with him in love: because grace and mercy are with his holy ones, and his care is with his elect.