NEW YEAR'S EVE

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New Year's Eve my Senior year at Yale was a disaster. I had planned to meet some friends in Times Square in New York... and this was pre-renovation Times Square...pretty grungy as I recall. Of course, this was way before cell phones. Somehow we missed connections, and I found myself alone in Times Square in a downpour without an umbrella. After wandering around interminably, I eventually headed over to Port Authority, only to learn that the last bus had already departed for Ridgewood, New Jersey. I was planning to visit my sister Julie and brother-in-law Tom Martin in Wyckoff, next door to Ridgewood. The ticket office was closed, so I sat down on a bench on the platform and tried to sleep. No sooner had I done so than a policeman roused me awake. It was not permitted to sleep on the bench without a ticket. "But the ticket office is closed, sir." "No matter, you're not allowed to sleep without a ticket." It's amazing I didn't get bronchitis.

Anyway, I hope you are having, or will have had a more exciting New Year's Eve this year! I'm in NYE show at one of my clubs tonight. Best wishes for 2011!

WILLIAM CROFT ~ Baptized December 30, 1678 ~ August 14, 1727

William Croft (baptized 30 December 1678 – 14 August 1727) was an English composer and organist.

Croft was born at the Manor House, Nether Ettington, Warwickshire. He was educated at the Chapel Royal, under the instruction of John Blow, and remained there until 1698. Two years after this departure, he became organist of St. Anne's Church, Soho. In 1707, he took over the Chapel Royal's "Master of the Children" post, which had been left vacant by the suicide of Jeremiah Clarke (one of Croft's pupils in this capacity was Maurice Greene). The following year, Croft succeeded Blow (who had lately died) as organist of Westminster Abbey. He composed works for the funeral of Queen Anne (1714) and for the coronation of King George I (1715).

In 1724, Croft published Musica Sacra, a collection of church music, the first such collection to be printed in the form of a score. It contains a Burial Service, which may have been written for Queen Anne or for the Duke of Marlborough; it has been used at state funerals in the United Kingdom ever since. Shortly afterwards his health deteriorated, and he died while visiting Bath.

One of Croft's most enduring pieces is the hymn tune "St Anne" written to the poem O God, Our Help in Ages Past by Isaac Watts. Other composers subsequently incorporated the tune in their own works. Handel used it, for instance, in an anthem entitled O Praise the Lord. Bach's Fugue in E-flat major BWV 552 is often called the "St. Anne", due to the similarity (coincidental in this case) of its subject to the hymn melody's first phrase. Croft also wrote various violin sonatas, which are not nearly as often performed as is his religious music, but which deserve revival and have been occasionally recorded.

Image & text;wikipedia.com

I have used Croft's hymn tune "St. Anne" with Isaac Watts' poem at the funerals for my Father, Mother and Dennis ...and plan to have it sung at my own.

PRINCE RUPERT & ROSE ~ December 29th

Although there's not room in the heading, it looks as though I should add another category for this blog:.... DOGS........ or at least Cavalier King Charles Spaniels.

My handsome Cavaliers, Prince Rupert and his sister Rose, would have been thirteen years old today.

I first met Rose and Rupert the day of my Mother's memorial service thirteen years ago this coming March. After Mother died three days before her birthday, I returned to San Francisco. Then Dennis and I went back for her memorial service a few weeks later.

Before leaving, I leafed through the Cavalier King Charles Spaniel Club yearbook and pointed out to Dennis a black and white photo of a beautiful black and tan cavalier. "That's just the kind of black and tan I'd like to have." Her name was Polly. Then I noticed that the breeder lived in Dillsburg, Pennsylvania, about eighteen miles from Harrisburg, my hometown. Dillsburg was where my Mother played golf at a public golf club. (Mother loved golf, but was always careful with her expenses.)

So after the big memorial service at Grace Church, when Chanticleer sang the Biebl Ave Maria as a prelude before the service, and before their flight from Middletown 45 minutes later (more about that in March) and the symbolic interment on the hillside cemetary in Woolrich (Mother had donated her body for research, so we initially buried only a lock of her hair ... and three golf balls) Dennis and I drove back from my Mother's family's Hunting Camp and visited Mary Louise Gregg at her home and kennel, Stellar Cavaliers, in Dillsburg.

Cynthia had already given Dennis India Pudding and I was looking for an assertive dog, who could stand up to her. My introduction to Rupert was observing him bite the tail of his sister Celine. I thought: "That's the little guy for me!" There was a Titanic movie theme to that litter. Rupert's real name is "Stellar Coeur de Leon." And Rose is "Stellar Coeur de la Mer" -- the name of the blue diamond in the movie. So of course, Celine was appropriate as well!

Eight weeks or so later my Prince Rupert (named for Prince Rupert of the Rhine, nephew of Charles I during the English Civil War, and commander of the Cavalier cavalry --- a somewhat fitting name for a Cavalier dog, I thought) flew cross country to Sacramento with a friend of Mary Louise's and the judge for a Sacramento dog show.

Debbie Cornue drove Dennis, me and India Pudding to meet him at the Sacramento airport. Dennis never let me forget that I caused us to drive twenty miles out of our way, because I wrongly assumed there would be clearly marked signs to the airport on the highway to the California State Capital.

Rupert acted as though he owned his sister at times. In a way he did. A few years after he arrived in San Francisco, Rupert went back to Dillsburg to become a daddy, and the fee for his services was his sister Rose!

My Christmas miracle three years ago was the survival of my precious Rose. The vet didn't discover the peach pit blockage for six days. Mary Louise Gregg tells me that most dogs with a similar blockage don't survive unless surgery is performed before the third day. Dear Rose had an amazing desire to live... and her wonderful appetite completely returned two years ago. I am still so grateful that she had another eleven good months to live.

I lost dear Rose just before Thanksgiving two years ago. And my boy Rupert departed a year ago this past August. How I miss them both! But now I have my two Blenheims, Renzo and his mother, Bette. Life goes on.

PUCK's BIRTHDAY

Today is Puck's birthday. It was because of her that I live in my spacious present apartment - a seven room flat I occupy alone with two dogs... and lots of rugs, antiques and books.

Carol Rineheimer was an only child whose older parents belonged to my father's church in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Her father was president of Pennsylvania Blue Shield. Carol and I went to kindergarten together at the Catherine Sweeney Day School and were in MYF (Methodist Youth Fellowship) through junior high. Then I went away to boarding school at The Mercersburg Academy and she, to high School on the Camp Hill side of the river. After that I really wasn't in touch with her for several years.

While I was in New Haven, Carol went to art school at RISD, Rhode Island School of Design, but transferred to the Art Institute in Kansas City, Missouri, because her parents wanted to break up what they thought was a bad relationship. It didn't work. He just followed her to Kansas City. It was there that Carol adopted the name 'Puck' from Midsummer's Night Dream.

In the winter of 1972/73 I lived at home in Harrisburg to help my parents get resettled after Hurricane Agnes, but was planning to move to San Francisco in the Spring. Puck was living in the avenues with a med student at UCSF. When she heard from her parents that I was moving to San Francsico, she offered to find a place to live together. She had just broken up with her boyfriend. I agreed and asked only for two things, a bay window in which I could put a baby grand piano, and a place that would allow dogs. My Dad was lending me his cocker spaniel EZ Dandy for the trip. (That's a separate story sometime.) So I've never had to look for an apartment in San Francisco. Puck found the place on 23rd Street. Then she was back East and gave me keys to the place before I even left. I was a renter as of May 1st, but didn't move in until Memorial day weekend 1973.

Puck lived here through Thanksgiving, then moved to Marin. She met her future husband Greg Erikson while living here. Puck asked me to play my 'cello at her wedding on the patio at her future in-laws' horse ranch in Solvang, a cutsey Danish community near Santa Barbara. (Dennis once rode his bianchi bike in the Solvang Century.)

Puck wanted me to play Pavane for a Dead Princess by Maurice Ravel. It really means dance in an antique style, rather than something funereal. Still it is rather subtle. I didn't want to play it as 'cello solo, so I asked a flautist friend, Dennis Parlotto, from Grace Cathedral choir to join me.

We drove down together, then afterwards he dropped me off in Long Beach by the Queen Mary to meet somebody I had met on a weekend in San Francisco.

I clearly remember a conversation I had with Dennis Parlotto in Huntington Park between services, more than thirty-five years ago. I forget how we got on to it-- probably a discussion of my traumatic past-- but Dennis said he concluded that sexual orientation was more nature than nurture. His reasoning: he was from a family with a dominant, over-bearing mother and absent father; he was a tenor, a flute player, a ballet dancer, and had a lot of gay friends. By all rights, he felt he should be gay. Yet he was completely straight. Dennis had married and was divorced, and had a young child, whom he adored. He later moved to New York to dance professionally.

Puck-- probably Carol again-- got divorced herself. She had a beautiful baby girl, Jennifer, who's probably in her thirties now. She looked like a Gerber baby. I remember how Puck said she felt sorry for Jennifer. She would never have to develop her personality as did her mother. I've completely lost touch with them. This post may encourage me to try to reestablish communication. In any case, Happy Birthday to Puck!!

Image: cse.sc.edu/~vargasje/GerberBaby.jpg

WESTMINSTER ABBEY Consecrated December 28, 1065 CE

The Collegiate Church of St Peter at Westminster, which is almost always referred to popularly and informally as Westminster Abbey, is a large, mainly Gothic church, in Westminster, London, just to the west of the Palace of Westminster. It is the traditional place of coronation and burial site for English, later British and later still (and currently) monarchs of the Commonwealth Realms. It briefly held the status of a cathedral from 1546–1556, and is a Royal Peculiar.

Westminster Abbey is governed by the Dean and Chapter of Westminster, as established by Royal Charter of Queen Elizabeth I in 1560, which created it as the Collegiate Church of St Peter Westminster and a Royal Peculiar under the personal jurisdiction of the Sovereign. The members of the Chapter are the Dean and four residentiary Canons, assisted by the Receiver General and Chapter Clerk. One of the Canons is also Rector of St Margaret’s Church Westminster Abbey (who also holds the post of Chaplain to the Speaker of the House of Commons). In addition to the Dean and Canons there are at present two full time minor canons, one precentor the other succentor. The office of Priest Vicar was created in the 1970s for those who assist the minor canons. Together with the Clergy and Receiver General and Chapter Clerk various Lay Officers constitute the College, including the Organist and Master of the Choristers, the Registrar, the Auditor, the Legal Secretary, the Surveyor of the Fabric, the Head Master of the Choir School, the Keeper of the Muniments and the Clerk of the Works, as well as twelve Lay Vicars and ten of the choristers and the High Steward and High Bailiff. There are also forty Queen’s Scholars who are pupils at Westminster School (the School has its own Governing Body). Those most directly concerned with liturgical and ceremonial matters are the two Minor Canons and the Organist and Master of the Choristers.

History

According to a tradition first reported by Sulcard in about 1080, the Abbey was first founded in the time of Mellitus (d. 624), Bishop of London, on the present site, then known as Thorn Ey (Thorn Island); based on a late 'tradition' that a fisherman called ' Aldrich ' on the River Thames saw a vision of Saint Peter near the site. This seems to be quoted to justify the gifts of salmon from Thames fishermen that the Abbey received in later years. The proven origins are that in the 960s or early 970s, Saint Dunstan, assisted by King Edgar, planted a community of Benedictine monks here. A stone Abbey was built around 1045–1050 by King Edward the Confessor as part of his palace there: it was consecrated on December 28, 1065, only a week before the Confessor's death and subsequent funeral and burial. It was the site of the last coronation prior to the Norman Invasion, that of his successor King Harold. It was later rebuilt by Henry III from 1245, who had selected the site for his burial.

The only extant depiction of the original Abbey, in the Romanesque style that is called Norman in England, together with the adjacent Palace of Westminster, is in the Bayeux Tapestry. Increased endowments supported a community increased from a dozen monks in Dunstan's original foundation, to about eighty monks.

The Abbot and learned monks, in close proximity to the Royal Palace of Westminster, the seat of government from the later twelfth century, became a powerful force in the centuries after the Norman Conquest: the Abbot was often employed on royal service and in due course took his place in the House of Lords as of right. Released from the burdens of spiritual leadership, which passed to the reformed Cluniac movement after the mid-tenth century, and occupied with the administration of great landed properties, some of which lay far from Westminster, "the Benedictines achieved a remarkable degree of identification with the secular life of their times, and particularly with upper-class life", Barbara Harvey concluded, to the extent that her depiction of daily life. provides a wider view of the concerns of the English gentry in the High and Late Middle Ages. The proximity of the Palace of Westminster did not extend to providing monks or abbots with high royal connections; in social origin the Benedictines of Westminster were as modest as most of the order. The abbot remained Lord of the Manor of Westminster as a town of two to three thousand persons grew around it: as a consumer and employer on a grand scale the monastery helped fuel the town economy, and relations with the town remained unusually cordial, but no enfranchising charter was issued during the Middle Ages. The abbey built shops and dwellings on the west side, encroaching upon the sanctuary.

The Abbey became the coronation site of Norman kings, but none were buried there until Henry III, intensely devoted to the cult of the Confessor, rebuilt the Abbey in Anglo-French Gothic style as a shrine to honour St Edward the Confessor and as a suitably regal setting for Henry's own tomb, under the highest Gothic nave in England. The Confessor's shrine subsequently played a great part in his canonisation. The work continued between 1245 and 1517 and was largely finished by the architect Henry Yevele in the reign of King Richard II. Henry VII added a Perpendicular style chapel dedicated to the Blessed Virgin Mary in 1503 (known as the Henry VII Chapel). Much of the stone came from Caen, in France (Caen stone), the Isle of Portland (Portland stone) and the Loire Valley region of France (tuffeau limestone).

1535, the Abbey's annual income of £2400–2800 during the assessment attendant on the Dissolution of the Monasteries rendered it second in wealth only to Glastonbury Abbey. Henry VIII had assumed direct royal control in 1539 and granted the Abbey cathedral status by charter in 1540, simultaneously issuing letters patent establishing the Diocese of Westminster. By granting the Abbey cathedral status Henry VIII gained an excuse to spare it from the destruction or dissolution which he inflicted on most English abbeys during this period. Westminster was a cathedral only until 1550. The expression "robbing Peter to pay Paul" may arise from this period when money meant for the Abbey, which was dedicated to St Peter, was diverted to the treasury of St Paul's Cathedral.

The Abbey was restored to the Benedictines under the Roman Catholic Queen Mary, but they were again ejected under Queen Elizabeth I in 1559. In 1579, Elizabeth re-established Westminster as a "Royal Peculiar"—a church responsible directly to the sovereign, rather than to a diocesan bishop—and made it the Collegiate Church of St Peter, (that is a church with an attached chapter of canons, headed by a dean). The last Abbot was made the first Dean. It suffered damage during the turbulent 1640s, when it was attacked by Puritan iconoclasts, but was again protected by its close ties to the state during the Commonwealth period. Oliver Cromwell was given an elaborate funeral there in 1658, only to be disinterred in January 1661 and posthumously hanged from a nearby gibbet.

The abbey's two western towers were built between 1722 and 1745 by Nicholas Hawksmoor, constructed from Portland stone to an early example of a Gothic Revival design. Further rebuilding and restoration occurred in the 19th century under Sir George Gilbert Scott. A narthex for the west front was designed by Sir Edwin Lutyens in the mid C20 but was not executed.

Until the 19th century, Westminster was the third seat of learning in England, after Oxford and Cambridge. It was here that the first third of the King James Bible Old Testament and the last half of the New Testament were translated. The New English Bible was also put together here in the 20th century. Westminster suffered minor damage during the Blitz on November 15, 1940.

Coronations

King Edward's ChairSince the coronations in 1066 of both King Harold and William the Conqueror, all English and British monarchs (except Edward V and Edward VIII, who did not have coronations) have been crowned in the Abbey. Henry III was unable to be crowned in London when he first came to the throne because Prince Louis of France had taken control of the city, and so the king was crowned in Gloucester Cathedral. However, this coronation was deemed by the Pope to be improper, and a further coronation was held in the Abbey on 17 May 1220. Lady Jane Grey, whose reign lasted just nine days and was of doubtful legality, was also never crowned. The Archbishop of Canterbury is the traditional cleric in the coronation ceremony.

King Edward's Chair (or St Edward's Chair), the throne on which British sovereigns are seated at the moment of coronation, is housed within the Abbey and has been used at every coronation since 1308; from 1301 to 1996 (except for a short time in 1950 when it was temporarily stolen by Scottish nationalists), the chair also housed the Stone of Scone upon which the kings of Scotland are crowned, but pending another coronation the Stone is now kept in Scotland.

Image & text:wikipedia.com

Note: the abbey was consecrated only a year before the Norman Conquest. Also the West towers (as shown above) were built at the beginning of the 18th Century in early Gothic Revival style.

HAGIA SOPHIA ~ Completed December 27, 537 CE

Hagia Sophia (Turkish: Ayasofya, from the Greek: γία Σοφία, "Holy Wisdom"; Latin: Sancta Sophia or Sancta Sapientia) is a former Orthodox patriarchal basilica, later a mosque, now a museum in Istanbul, Turkey. Famous in particular for its massive dome, it is considered the epitome of Byzantine architecture and to have "changed the history of architecture."

It was the largest cathedral in the world for nearly a thousand years, until the completion of the Seville Cathedral in 1520. The current building was originally constructed as a church between 532 and 537 A.D. on the orders of the Byzantine Emperor Justinian, and was in fact the third Church of the Holy Wisdom to occupy the site (the previous two had both been destroyed by riots). It was designed by two architects, Isidore of Miletus and Anthemius of Tralles. The Church contained a large collection of holy relics and featured, among other things, a 15m (49 foot) silver iconostasis. It was the seat of the Patriarch of Constantinople and the religious focal point of the Eastern Orthodox Church for nearly one thousand years. It was the church in which Cardinal Humbert marched up to the altar and excommunicated Cerularius, marking the official start of the Great Schism.

In 1453, Constantinople was conquered by the Ottoman Turks and Sultan Mehmed II ordered the building to be converted into a mosque. The bells, altar, iconostasis, and sacrificial vessels were removed, and many of the mosaics were eventually plastered over. The Islamic features — such as the mihrab, the minbar, and the four minarets outside — were added over the course of its history under the Ottomans. It remained as a mosque until 1935, when it was converted into a museum by the Republic of Turkey.

For almost 500 years the principal mosque of Istanbul, Hagia Sophia served as a model for many of the Ottoman mosques such as the Sultan Ahmed Mosque (Blue Mosque of Istanbul), the Şehzade Mosque, the Süleymaniye Mosque, the Rüstem Pasha Mosque, and the Kılıç Ali Paşa Mosque.

Although it is sometimes referred to as Santa Sophia, the Greek name in full is Ναός ς γίας το Θεο Σοφίας, Church of the Holy Wisdom of God, the Church being dedicated to Jesus Christ, in Eastern Orthodox theology, the Holy Wisdom of God ("Sophia" being the phonetic spelling in Latin of the Greek word for wisdom). So Santa Sophia should be understood as the italianate title of the church, Holy Wisdom.

Image & text:wikipedia.com

Twice have I spent time in this extraordinary and glorious space. Both were with my friend Umer -- in 2000 with Dennis on our Mediterranean cruise, and in 2007 on a weekend jaunt in the middle of a return trip to Italy. I telephoned Umer yesterday morning after he had left a message on Christmas Eve. He invited me back to visit soon. If only I could afford it! Eventually I will.

BOXING DAY ~ DECEMBER 26th

Boxing Day is a holiday celebrated in Britain, Australia, New Zealand, and Canada. It falls on December 26th, which is also St. Stephen's Day.

St. Stephen was a little known saint who achieved eternal fame by being the first Christian to be martyred for his faith, and he met his death by stoning.

Boxing Day is so called because on this day it was customary for tradesmen to collect their Christmas boxes or gifts in return for good service throughout the year. Also, it included giving money and other gifts to charitable institutions, and the needy. The holiday may date from as early as the Middle Ages, but the exact origin is not known. It may have begun with the Lords and Ladies of England, who gave Christmas boxes/gifts to their servants on December 26, or maybe by priests, who opened the church's alms (charity boxes), and distributed the contents to the poor and needy.

In England this day has become part of the celebrations of being with family-- a day to visit other relations, and to have a rest from the day before, to play fun games. Some families buy a new game each year, but still bring out the old favorites. For some it is good to have the two days, as on one of the days you can visit with your parents, and the other day your in-laws. St. Stephen is the patron saint of horses, so Boxing Day became associated with horse-racing and hunting. Other sports are also held on this day like football and rugby.

Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and Boxing Day is the Christmas season for many people in England.

Image & text:homepages.tesco.net

Boxing Day is a bank holiday or a public holiday in the United Kingdom, Australia, Canada Germany, New Zealand, Hong Kong, and countries in the Commonwealth of Nations with a mainly Christian population. In South Africa this public holiday is now known as the Day of Goodwill.

Etymology
The name derives from the Anglo-Saxon tradition giving seasonal gifts (in the form of a "Christmas box") to less wealthy people and slaves. In the United Kingdom this was later extended to various workpeople such as labourers, servants, tradespeople and postal workers.

Boxing day is on December 26th in 2009

Public holiday
Boxing Day is traditionally celebrated on 26 December, St. Stephen's Day, the day after Christmas Day. Unlike St. Stephen's Day, Boxing Day is a secular holiday and is not always on 26 December: the public holiday is generally moved to the following Monday if 26 December is a Saturday. If 25 December is a Saturday then both the Monday and Tuesday may be public holidays. However the date of observance of Boxing Day varies between countries.

In Ireland—when it was part of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland—the UK's Bank Holidays Act 1871 established the feast day of St Stephen as a non-moveable public holiday on 26 December. Since Partition, the name "Boxing Day" is used only by the authorities in Northern Ireland (which remained part of the United Kingdom). Their Boxing Day is a moveable public holiday in line with the rest of the United Kingdom.

The Banking and Financial Dealings Act of 1971 established "Boxing Day" as a public holiday in Scotland. In the Australian state of South Australia, 26 December is a public holiday known as Proclamation Day.

Text:wikipedia.com

A YOUNG CHRISTMAS EPIPHANY

This is something that might be appropriate to post on Christmas Day [so this year I will]. But the first part of my story began in early December…many years ago back in Central Pennsylvania.

When I was in kindergarten at the Catherine Sweeney Day School, I had a major disappointment my first Christmas at our home on North Second Street in Harrisburg. Dad took me to see Santa Claus at Cline Village Shopping Center (a prototype of those ubiquitous malls, which –along with fast food chains— seem to be one of America’s principal contributions to global culture). I made my request to Santa. Then on the way home, Dad tried to get me to reveal my conversation. I resisted at first, saying that it was a matter between Santa and me. Eventually, I relented…to his apparent relief.

My sister Julie and brother Sherry encouraged me to leave cookies for Santa next to the tree by the stone fireplace in the finished basement. Christmas day came. The cookies were gone and in their place was a note & large cardboard box that looked something like a medieval strong box. I opened it, stared, and expressed instant disappointment. “There’s been some mistake!” I said. “Santa couldn’t have gotten it wrong. I was very clear!”

Daddy was disappointed too. Inside was a plastic medieval knight’s suit of armor. Dad must have gone to a lot of trouble to find it; but it was not what I had asked for. “I specifically said I wanted Roman soldier’s armor just like the picture on Roman Meal Bread. There’s a problem here. Santa couldn’t have misunderstood me. All right Daddy, tell me: is there or is there not a Santa Claus? I can take the truth.” …………So that’s how I found there was no Santa. My questions about the historical Jesus began soon afterwards.

(Years later, in 1989, I was in my first Grove Play, “Pompeii,” at the Bohemian Grove. I was not a soldier. But in the production was just the kind of armor I had wanted thirty-three years before. I mentioned it to Dennis. Then at Christmas 1992, I opened a large package— too big for a box— and burst into laughter. There was my suit of Roman armor. Dennis had bought it, along with a piece of styrofoam lava, from our friend, John Blauer, head of the Costume Department at the club, and co-author of the play. Thirty-six years is a long time to wait for a special Christmas wish… I only wish Dad had lived long enough to have been my guest at the Grove. Dad would have loved the club with its four pillars of Music, Art, Literature and Theatre. Sherry Bell would have been a great Bohemian!)

Image:farm1.static.flickr.com

CHRISTMAS EVE 1972

Sometime in the late autumn of 1972— when I stayed at home in Harrisburg, Central Pennsylvania to help my parents get re-settled after the flood of Hurricane Agnes– my father's friend and older assistant pastor, Wallace J. Cummings died. I don't recall the exact circumstances of his death, but I do remember his funeral.

Following my reflexive, spontaneous remarks from the pulpit the Sunday after Christmas 1969— a traumatic time in my life— when during a student-led service I said that I hadn't been sure about my faith in God since I had been a child, but appreciated all the support I had recently been given— Pastor Cummings informed Dad that I had told a different story when I had given a talk, concerning young people's doubts about religious faith, to the Men's Bible Class at Hart's diner in Paxtang two years before.

I clearly recall that talk, and remember how I very carefully phrased and characterized my remarks as "not necessarily my own." In fact, they mostly were. But I had learned the lawyer's – or politicians trick— of plausible deniability.

At Wallace Cummings' funeral, the Grace Church Chancel Choir sang a chorus from the Du Bois "Seven last Words", a traditional Good Friday anthem at Grace Church. Most of the choir was in tears, and could barely make it through the piece. For some reason, I was strangely unaffected.

But the Sunday afternoon before Christmas, when we sang the same chorus—from the rear gallery below the marvelous Tiffany Ascension window—as part of the annual Christmas pageant, I had a delayed reaction, I guess, and blubbered throughout the entire piece.

Later that week, we had choir rehearsal in the Robert Lee George Chapel— for the Christmas Eve Candlelight Service. My father's organist, Robert Clippinger, had been there for years. He was a superb musician with impeccable technique. He never made finger errors. His entire family –wife, two sons, and a daughter, who had made extraordinary efforts to be there— and his entire choir – were at the rehearsal.

Half way through a "Halleluia" from a Bach Christmas Cantata, Dr. Clippinger had a cerebral hemorrhage. He started to make mistakes, again, something he had never done in my memory. I was sitting behind him. I couldn't see his face, but he kept on playing. With almost super-human effort, he finished that piece. Then he toppled over—never to regain consciousness. He died two days later. For all practical purposes he died at the rehearsal.

Think about it: an organist with his family and choir at Christmas rehearsing Bach. It doesn't get much better than that.

Image:answers.com

INDIA PUDDING'S ARRIVAL at SFO 1997

Fourteen years ago today is when my sister Cynthia sent that charmingly assertive and passionate, red and white Blenheim Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, Tara's Miss India, from Miami straight to San Francisco. What an extraordinary gift! What wonderful memories!

Dennis’ first and favorite Cavalier, Nell, had died several years before. When she was failing, we made arrangements with the vet at Pets Unlimited on Fillmore Street to come to the house, so that Nell would not end her life in a cold antiseptic doctor’s office. In a way it paralleled Dennis’ arranging a vet to come to his flat on McAllister when Nell gave birth to her five puppies. As Dennis described it, Nell didn’t need any assistance then. In her basket on the rose patterned window seat in Dennis’ yellow bedroom, she was transformed from a cute and dizzy puppy to the very personification of Earth Mother. “I had puppies…..what have you done?”

Now Nell’s fragile tricolor daughter, Lady St. Albans, was ailing. I called her Winkie or ‘Libet. (When my Mother heard that one of the puppy’s names was ‘Elizabeth Lady St. Albans,’ she exclaimed: “Ah, my namesake!”) Winkie’s end seemed near, but we decided not to call the vet. Everything seemed to be progressing naturally.

One Thursday I went to work and told my fellow supervisor, Dale Ilderton, that one of my dogs appeared to be dying. A few minutes later my boss, Francean Rible, came and told me to go home to be with her. I spent the day holding her in my lap or taking naps with her on the bed. For years ‘Libet had slept next to me and cuddled so close that Dennis remarked you'd have to separate us with a knife.

Late in the afternoon I needed to leave because I was in a Thursday night show at the Bohemian Club. It was Vaudeville Night. Dennis came to dinner and the show. He was dressed in a business suit and appeared to have a good time. On the way home, after getting off BART at 24th Street, Dennis turned right on Bartlett Street and stopped by a front yard rose garden to tell me that Winkie had died fifteen minutes after I had left the house. We wept, then continued home.

Dennis’ Irish side was soon apparent. Lady St. Albans was lying in state in a basket in the middle of the dining room table surrounded by four large silver candlesticks. A white linen napkin covered her body, and on top was a garland of white lilies.

A few days later Dennis had an accident at his temp job. After a cigarette break he rushed in the side entrance to Tiffany’s and slipped on the granite floor and landed on his shoulder. In great pain he went back to work until he started to faint. It turned out he had broken his clavicle. But he didn’t find that out until more than two hours later.

I think he missed only a single day of work, then returned with his arm in a sling. He was not going to lose that job at Tiffany’s. People were so impressed that soon he was offered a permanent position.

Meanwhile my sister Cynthia in Florida was considering sending a plant to honor the memory of ‘Libet. But Cynthia decided that she’d rather give us a puppy. She checked online and learned that puppies were out of her price range, so next she considered two and three year old dogs. Cynthia found a very attractive Blenheim with a breeder north of her, but concluded the dog was rather snooty. Then she visited another three-year-old Blenheim (red and white) with a breeder south of her in Homestead. This dog had a funny looking mouth— slightly undershot— but appeared to have a wonderful personality.

So Cynthia telephoned me to ask if it would be appropriate to give a dog to Dennis. I replied that it was extremely thoughtful and generous of her, but that Dennis was very particular and would want to choose his own dog. Furthermore, he would insist on a puppy because he would want to train the dog from scratch.

A few days went by. Then casually I mentioned Cynthia’s offer to Dennis. He stopped and thought about it for a few minutes, then said that it might not be such a bad idea to have an older dog. Lord Dundee was an older dog himself and might have difficulties adjusting to a rambunctious puppy.

So I called Cynthia back and asked if we could reconsider her offer. Cynthia went to Homestead and bought the dog and brought her home to Stuart. After two days, her husband Bob said they needed to send India to California immediately. He was afraid that Cynthia would bond with the dog and never give her up. So Bob and Cynthia got up at three in the morning to drive to Miami International and put a spunky little red and white dog on a direct flight to San Francisco.

I took the day off work, rented a car, and drove to SFO with my tricolor Lord Dundee in the back seat on December 23rd 1997. I parked on the roof of the parking garage and opened the rear windows a crack so Dundee had air.

At baggage claim I waited for an attendant to bring the airline kennel. I took a photo as he approached. When I opened the grated door, out pranced a happy, assertive— rather comic looking— red and white Blenheim girl. Her mouth was a little undershot. But she had beautiful markings and a luxurious coat.

I carried her in the kennel until we got to the car. Then I put her on a leash, opened the door and introduced her to Lord Dundee. He didn’t know what to think of her at first. I got a good photo of their meeting.

After taking Dundee home, I drove downtown and parked near Union Square. Carrying India in my arms when I got to the front door of Tiffany’s, I walked to the silver room in the back. With India on one arm and a camera in the other hand, I spoke from behind and said: “Mr. Graham” and Dennis turned from his customer and broke into a wonderful grin.

I was home only a few days. This was the day before Christmas Eve. After midnight mass at St. Francis, we celebrated Christmas early in the morning – or, middle of the night, as was our custom— before flying to Pennsylvania to spend a week with Mother at her retirement community, Green Ridge Village, in Newville near Carlisle.

All four children, Julie, Sherry, Cynthia and I, spent several days with Mother to enable her to divide her many possessions among us as she moved from her own retirement house into a single room in a main building for assisted living. She had waited until all of us could be there.

While I was gone, Dennis spent a lot of time with India. Her formal name was Tara’s Miss India. There was a Gone With The Wind theme to her litter. She was named for Scarlett O’Hara’s sister. Indeed, one of her own sisters was named Tara’s Miss Scarlett.

For the first few days Dennis said to her: “You’re not as beautiful as Nell. You’re not as cute… you’re not even as clever as Nell.” But then one day, Dennis picked her up in his arms and said: “You’re not as beautiful as Nell. YOU are as beautiful as INDIA….You are my India Pudding!” From that moment on she was completely his.

My sister Julie used to have a large St. Bernard named Pudding. Partly as a joke, we called our nineteen pound Blenheim Cavalier “India Pudding” and it stuck.

One time Dennis came home from work and greeted Lord Dundee, lying on the edge of the bed (with a pile of pillows leading to the trunk to help him to get up). He was a distinguished senior dog entitled to special privileges. India observed all of this, pranced over, hopped on the bed and whacked Dundee on the head with her paw. She considered that she was entitled to be greeted first!

Dennis used to comment on India Pudding’s assertive personality: “What would you expect from a dog born on Elizabeth II’s birthday, the day after Adolf Hitler’s … with a jaw like Mussolini!”

India loved to spend time with Dennis— in the garden, in the kitchen, especially in the car (when we had one) Of course, all our Cavaliers have had a passion for riding in cars.

When Dennis and I took our Mediterranean cruise from Rome to the Greek isles, ending in Istanbul, we left our three dogs (by that time Dundee had gone and I had bought my black and tan boy Rupert— named for Prince Rupert of the Rhine, nephew of Charles I, and commander of the Royalist cavalry during the English Civil War— and as a fee for his paternity duties, Rupert had ransomed his ruby sister, Rose) with our friend Nijole Adams in Sebastopol. Nijole had seven or eight Cavaliers of her own and slept with all them in a large king-size bed in the middle of her bedroom. Our dogs just joined the crowd.

From Rome, Dennis and I called Nijole to check on the dogs. Nijole said that Rupert was fine. What a sportsman. He loved to play ball. He never stopped! Her arm was about to fall off! And Rose… what a sweetheart. She was rather shy and stayed by herself a lot.

And India…how is Miss India? Nijole paused…….then slowly said: “Everybody knows she’s Queen!”

So India Pudding had joined a household with eight other Cavaliers …….and took over!!

Later when Dennis was let go from Lang Estate Jewelry, he helped out occasionally at our friend Chris Wahlgren’s rug store on 24th St. India loved to spend the time alone with Dennis at the store (since Rose and Rupert had proved unreliable, or rather too predictable with accidents on the rugs.) India romped over the rugs and exalted being with Dennis, whom she adored.

In his twittier moments, Dennis called India Pudding by the sobriquet “Contessa Zuppa Inglese” a special Italian pudding. How he loved her!

GIACOMO PUCCINI ~ December 22, 1858 ~ November 29, 1924

Giacomo Antonio Domenico Michele Secondo Maria Puccini (22 December 1858 – 29 November 1924) was an Italian composer whose operas, including La bohème, Tosca, Madama Butterfly and Turandot, are among the most frequently performed in the standard repertoire. Some of his arias, such as "O mio babbino caro" from Gianni Schicchi, "Che gelida manina" from La bohème, and "Nessun dorma" from Turandot, have become part of popular culture.

The subject of Puccini's style is one that was once treated dismissively by musicologists; this can be attributed to a perception that his work, with its emphasis on melody and evident popular appeal, lacked "depth." Despite the place Puccini clearly occupies in the popular tradition of Verdi, his style of orchestration also shows the strong influence of Wagner, matching specific orchestral configurations and timbres to different dramatic moments. His operas contain an unparalleled manipulation of orchestral colors, with the orchestra often creating the scene's atmosphere.

The structures of Puccini's works are also noteworthy. While it is to an extent possible to divide his operas into arias or numbers (like Verdi's), his scores generally present a very strong sense of continuous flow and connectivity, perhaps another sign of Wagner's influence. Like Wagner, Puccini used leitmotifs to connote characters (or combinations of characters). This is apparent in Tosca, where the three chords which signal the beginning of the opera are used throughout to announce Scarpia. Several motifs are also linked to Mimi and the bohemians in La bohème and to Cio-Cio-San's eventual suicide in Butterfly. Unlike Wagner, though, Puccini's motifs are static: where Wagner's motifs develop into more complicated figures as the characters develop, Puccini's remain more or less identical throughout the opera (in this respect anticipating the themes of modern musical theatre).

Another distinctive quality in Puccini's works is the use of the voice in the style of speech: characters sing short phrases one after another as if they were talking to each other. Puccini is celebrated, on the other hand, for his melodic gift, and many of his melodies are both memorable and enduringly popular. These melodies are often made of sequences from the scale, a very distinctive example being Quando me'n vo' (Musetta's Waltz) from La bohème and E lucevan le stelle from Act III of Tosca. Today, it is rare not to find at least one Puccini aria included in an operatic singer's CD album or recital.

Unusual for operas written by Italian composers up until that time, many of Puccini’s operas are set outside Italy – in exotic places such as Japan (Madama Butterfly), gold-mining country in California (La fanciulla del West), Paris and the Riviera (La rondine), and China (Turandot).

Pulitzer Prize-winning music critic Lloyd Schwartz summarized Puccini thus: "Is it possible for a work of art to seem both completely sincere in its intentions and at the same time counterfeit and manipulative? Puccini built a major career on these contradictions. But people care about him, even admire him, because he did it both so shamelessly and so skillfully. How can you complain about a composer whose music is so relentlessly memorable, even — maybe especially — at its most saccharine?"

Image & text:wikipedia.com

JEAN RACINE ~ December 22, 1639 ~ April 21, 1699

Jean Racine (December 22, 1639 – April 21, 1699) was a French dramatist, one of the "Big Three" of 17th century France (along with Molière and Corneille), and one of the most important literary figures in the Western tradition. Racine was primarily a tragedian, though he did write one comedy.

In his own time, Racine found himself compared constantly with his contemporaries, especially the great Pierre Corneille. In his own plays, Racine sought to abandon the ornate and almost otherworldly intricacy that Corneille so favored. Audiences and critics were divided over the worth of Racine as an up and coming playwright. Audiences admired his return to simplicity and their ability to relate to his more human characters, while critics insisted on judging him according to the traditional standards of Aristotle and his Italian commentators from which he tended to stray. Attitudes shifted, however, as Racine began to eclipse Corneille. In 1674 the highly respected poet and critic Nicolas Boileau-Despréaux (also known simply as "Boileau") published his Art Poétique which deemed Racine's model of tragedy superior to that of Corneille. This erased all doubts as to Racine's abilities as a dramatist and established him as one of the period's great literary minds.

Butler describes this period as Racine's "apotheosis," his highest point of admiration. Racine's ascent to literary fame coincided with other prodigious cultural and political events in French history. This period saw the rise of literary giants like Molière, Jean de La Fontaine, Nicolas Boileau-Despréaux, and François de La Rochefoucauld as well as Louis Le Vau's historic expansion of the Palace of Versailles, Jean-Baptiste Lully's revolution in Baroque music, and most importantly, the ascension of Louis XIV to the throne of France.

Under Louis XIV's revolutionary reign, France rose up from a long period of civil discord to new heights of international prominence. Political achievement coincided with cultural and gave birth to an evolution of France's national identity, known as l'esprit français. This new self perception acknowledged the superiority of all things French; the French believed France was home to the greatest king, the greatest armies, the greatest people, and, subsequently, the greatest culture. In this new national mindset, Racine and his work were practically deified, established as the perfect model of dramatic tragedy by which all other plays would be judged. Butler blames the consequential "withering" of French drama on Racine's idolized image, saying that such rigid adherence to one model eventually made all new French drama a stale imitation.

Image & text:wikipedia.com

SHERIDAN WATSON BELL, JR. ~ December 21, 1908 ~ October 30, 1982

How difficult to believe...my Dad, Sherry Bell, the Rev. Dr. Sheridan Watson Bell, Jr., was born one-hundred-three years ago today!! Dad was the youngest of four children, as am I, so my paternal grandfather, Sheridan Watson Bell, Sr., whom I never knew, was born during the American Civil War!!

Sherry Bell was a loving man of conviction, warmth, generosity, passion, impulse, flamboyance, gusto, humor, spontaneity, balance, dedication, support, vocal gifts, drama, wise counsel, compassion and faith: a pastor of people, rather than a great preacher, though occasionally a speaker of profound ideas and natural eloquence. I’m lucky and so very proud that he was my Father.

LOUISIANA PURCHASE Completed December 20, 1803

1803 – The Louisiana Purchase is completed at a ceremony in New Orleans.

The Louisiana Purchase (French: Vente de la Louisiane "Sale of Louisiana") was the acquisition by the United States of America of 828,800 square miles (2,147,000 km2) of the French territory Louisiana in 1803. The U.S. paid 60 million francs ($11,250,000) plus cancellation of debts worth 18 million francs ($3,750,000), a total cost of 15 million dollars for the Louisiana territory.

The Louisiana Purchase encompassed all or part of 14 current U.S. states and two Canadian provinces. The land purchased contained all of present-day Arkansas, Missouri, Iowa, Oklahoma, Kansas, Nebraska, parts of Minnesota that were west of the Mississippi River, most of North Dakota, nearly all of South Dakota, northeastern New Mexico, the portions of Montana, Wyoming, and Colorado east of the Continental Divide, and Louisiana west of the Mississippi River, including the city of New Orleans. (The Oklahoma Panhandle, and southwestern portions of Kansas and Louisiana were still claimed by Spain at the time of the Purchase.) In addition, the Purchase contained small portions of land that would eventually become part of the Canadian provinces of Alberta and Saskatchewan. The purchase, which doubled the size of the United States, comprises around 23% of current U.S. territory. The population was estimated to be 97,000 as of the 1810 census.

The purchase was a vital moment in the presidency of Thomas Jefferson. At the time, it faced domestic opposition as being possibly unconstitutional. Although he felt that the US Constitution did not contain any provisions for acquiring territory, Jefferson decided to purchase Louisiana because he felt uneasy about France and Spain having the power to block American trade access to the port of New Orleans.

Napoleon Bonaparte, upon completion of the agreement, stated, "This accession of territory affirms forever the power of the United States, and I have given England a maritime rival who sooner or later will humble her pride."

Image & text;wikipedia.com

Naturalists John Muir & J. Horace MacFarland

Image::wikipedia.com

Below is a reposting from December 3, 2008:

When I was a young child, my Dad’s study was in the parsonage at 216 State Street, a handsome four story Federal-style detached brick house (circa 1916) next door to the stone Gothic revival church just down the street in front of the State Capitol, a successful architectural pastiche with the general layout of the capitol in Washington, the staircase from the Paris Opera, and the dome of St. Peter’s in Rome (before the church turned the old parsonage into the church offices and bought a grand detached stone house uptown as the new parsonage).

Occasionally I visited Daddy in his study on the second floor at 216 State Street. I remember seeing Thanksgiving Day parades from the bay window. Other times we watched from the street by the green, where we used to have strawberry festivals – before they turned it into a double-sided car park.

This is reminiscent of the McFarland gardens at Polyclinic Hospital. It had been one of the premier rose gardens in the United States, with reflecting pools, arcades, and a handsome bronze fountain of the Three Graces, which Milton Hershey— of chocolate fame— had commissioned for his private garden. But Mrs. Hershey found the nudes offensive; so Mr. Hershey donated the fountain to the McFarland rose garden. J. Horace McFarland, a doctor and a founder of the American Rose Society, had created and endowed these gardens at his hospital.

The connection to the former green in front of Grace Church is almost a direct quote from an old Joni Mitchell song: “They paved paradise … put up a parking lot.” That’s exactly what they did to the rose garden. They turned it into a three-block parking lot. Dad did what he could to prevent it; but was unsuccessful. It broke his heart. I still have a jar of potpourri made from some of the last roses. Dad, however, was instrumental in preserving the Three Graces and placing them in the middle of Italian Lake, just a few blocks from the old rose gardens.

Previously he had recommended the new site above Italian Lake for the relocation of the Civil War obelisk commemorating “The Suppression of the Rebellion,” which had blocked traffic on Second Street in front of the Capitol and had been a genuine traffic hazard. Dad was able to suggest these changes because he had been a friend of the two mayors at the time. Both events occurred when I was in junior high school or at Mercersburg, in the early or mid sixties.

When Mother sold the house on North Second Street to move to a retirement community about thirty-five miles away, I took an extended leave from my job at Neiman-Marcus to assist her. (My parents had bought the house after the Hurricane Agnes Flood.) It was some of the most strenuous physical labor I’ve ever done.

While cleaning out the detached garage, I went through several boxes of assorted objects and papers from Miss Helen McFarland’s house. (Helen was the distinguished spinster daughter of J. Horace McFarland and had lived alone for many decades in her Victorian mansion, Breeze Hill, that had an uncanny similarity to the house in Psycho, though it was a much finer house. Helen McFarland was a close friend of my Dad’s and his great friend, Helen Heisey. The two of them worked together on a Decorator Showhouse at Breeze Hill after Miss McFarland’s death.)

A small Christmas card caught my attention. It had a sepia photo of the "Lone Cypress" at Carmel. I picked it up and read the note. It was from John Muir to his friend J. Horace McFarland and was dated 1914. I happened to know that John Muir died Christmas Eve 1914, and thought at first this must be one of the last things he wrote. But on closer examination, the card was notated “Rec’d 1/10/14” so it was from Christmas 1913. Even so, it’s a very special communication.

The card’s inscription reads:

“Dear Mr. McFarland,
Many warm thanks for the great work you have done and are doing for God’s beauty. Tho our long hard fight for Yosemite Park is lost, some compensating good must come from the aroused conscience of the whole country.Yours with love and admiration

John Muir”

I think the reference was to Hetch Hetchy Valley, which was dammed to provide a reservoir for San Francisco. Even today there is discussion about whether or not to restore the valley to its former natural state. I don’t think that will happen. We really need the water. But I’ve double framed the card, and consider it one of my most valued possessions.

Carl Maria von Weber ~ December 18, 1786 ~ June 4, 1826

Carl Maria Friedrich Ernst von Weber (18 December 1786 – 4 June 1826) was a German composer, conductor, pianist, guitarist and critic, one of the first significant composers of the Romantic school.

Weber's works, especially his operas Der Freischütz, Euryanthe and Oberon greatly influenced the development of the Romantic opera in Germany. He was also an innovative composer of instrumental music. His compositions for the clarinet, which include two concertos, a concertino, a quintet and a duo concertante, are regularly performed, while his piano music—including four sonatas, two concertos and the Konzertstück (Concert Piece) in F minor—influenced composers such as Frédéric Chopin, Franz Liszt and Felix Mendelssohn. The Konzertstück provided a new model for the one-movement concerto in several contrasting sections (such as Liszt's, who often played the work), and was acknowledged by Igor Stravinsky.

Image & text:wikipedia.com

WRIGHT BROTHERS ~ First Manned Flight ~ December 17, 1903

The Wright Brothers make their first powered and heavier-than-air flight in the Wright Flyer at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, on December 17, 1903.

The Wright brothers, Orville (August 19, 1871 – January 30, 1948) and Wilbur (April 16, 1867 – May 30, 1912), were two Americans who are generally credited with inventing and building the world's first successful airplane and making the first controlled, powered and sustained heavier-than-air human flight.

They are also officially credited worldwide through the Fédération Aéronautique Internationale, the standard-setting and record-keeping body for aeronautics and astronautics, as "the first sustained and controlled heavier-than-air powered flight." In the two years afterward, the brothers developed their flying machine into the first practical fixed-wing aircraft. Although not the first to build and fly experimental aircraft, the Wright brothers were the first to invent aircraft controls that made fixed-wing flight possible.

The brothers' fundamental breakthrough was their invention of three-axis control, which enabled the pilot to steer the aircraft effectively and to maintain its equilibrium. This method became standard and remains standard on fixed-wing aircraft of all kinds. From the beginning of their aeronautical work, the Wright brothers focused on unlocking the secrets of control to conquer "the flying problem," rather than developing more powerful engines as some other experimenters did. Their careful wind tunnel tests produced better aeronautical data than any before, enabling them to design and build wings and propellers more effective than any before. Their U.S. patent 821,393 claims the invention of a system of aerodynamic control that manipulates a flying machine's surfaces.

They gained the mechanical skills essential for their success by working for years in their shop with printing presses, bicycles, motors, and other machinery. Their work with bicycles in particular influenced their belief that an unstable vehicle like a flying machine could be controlled and balanced with practice. From 1900 until their first powered flights in late 1903, they conducted extensive glider tests that also developed their skills as pilots. Their bicycle shop employee Charlie Taylor became an important part of the team, building their first aircraft engine in close collaboration with the brothers.

The Wright brothers' status as inventors of the airplane has been subject to counter-claims by various parties. Much controversy persists over the many competing claims of early aviators.

Images & Text:wikipedia.com