FORGOTTEN PROPHETS: TisquantumSquanto
Tisquantum
That's "Squanto's" real name, in Algonquian. Tisquantum. The shortening can be forgiven, of course. Algonquian rivals ancient Elamite for its opaqueness. Nquitpausuckowashawmen. No, I've not lapsed into glossolalia. That's how Squanto would have said, "There are a hundred of us." Tashuckqunne cummauchenaumiz? "How long have you been sick?" Yep. Tough language.
Of course Squanto could have numbered his tribe in English -- and in Spanish. Alas, there were not a hundred Patuxets left -- his people: all had perished, to smallpox. He alone survived, like some servant of Job -- as indeed he was, to the hardpressed pilgrims. As for how long Squanto was sick, sudden fever took him the year after he had settled with his new tribe of pilgrims.
Well, he must have been used to being snatched away. He wasn’t kidnapped just once, you understand. In 1605, one George Weymouth whisked him away to England -- whether kidnapped or volunteered, history does not record. For untold years he labored -- well, eight or nine -- until returning to America in 1613 as translator for none other than John Smith. Set free as reward for his service, Squanto returned to his own tribe, only to be enslaved and taken to Spain -- kidnapped in 1614 by Thomas Hunt, a lieutenant of Captain Smith. He escaped to London where he remained until 1619 (interupted by one odd intermission in Newfoundland), then he joined an expedition to America. There he found his family and tribe all wiped out.
Providence? To find an English-speaking Indian wandering the coast at just the right time to save the Pilgrims? Well, yes. But how many other Squantos have wandered the earth, who never found their mission? -- Jonahs who made it to Tarshish?
To know one's purpose is something to be thankful about. Father, mother, friend -- and to bring light and love not only to those you care about but to the stranger -- well, this is something in which we might make our own providence. The rest of it -- being kidnapped and orphaned and dying young and such -- we count as beyond our understanding, and trust in God to resolve.
Much fiction will have crept into the story of Squanto and the Pilgrims. Of course. It's not that it wasn't a good enough story on its own. It's just that the reality is complex, and myths have a happy simplicity to them. The tales of childhood are for inspiring us to emulate an example of excellence ... since there are hardly any real examples of excellence ... or is that unworthy? It is a fact that having heroes who actually lived requires a degree of selective blindness on our part. We give importance to what is admirable, and choose not to see the flaws -- or at least to down-grade them. This is as it should be. If we saw the chamber of horrors that is the heart of every human, we'd never stop screaming.
So we have myths.
Is America everything it might be or that we wish it were? The question answers itself. The same holds when we inspect any ideal. There are no “ideals.” If they were real, they’d be “examples.” But part of living in the real world is understanding that it is hopelessly flawed. Well, not hopelessly. Fatally. Even in the face of the inevitable failure of our biology, though -- in the face of ultimate fatality, we need not be hopeless.
And so we have Thanksgiving. It has its own mythology, as does Christmas. But for all that there is the fiction of Santa, there is the reality of Jesus. And for all that the Hallmark and Rockwell images may very well be nothing but a happy conceit -- of convivial Indians supping in sumptuous abundance with the wayfarers from across the gray waves of the churning seas -- yet they have the reality of vivid dreams, that might be true, for all that daylight says otherwise.
The cherished dreams of our hearts have no guarantee of coming to pass. Every prayer of thanks must, must include a prayer of abject supplication, begging God that evil, or greater evil, should not strike us. Thus as a nation we take a day, a single day, collectively to call to mind the many blessing with which we have been blessed. We recall that it need not be so. We understand that who looks for perfection is a fool. We understand that who accepts the inspiration of a myth honors the daylight that the visions of night have promised.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Saturday, August 19, 2006
Saturday, June 03, 2006
Sunday, May 28, 2006
Emigre with a Digital Cluebat
Emigre with a Digital Cluebat: "Kids say the DARNDEST things
JACK (age 3) was watching his Mom breast-feeding his new baby sister.
After a while he asked: 'Mom why have you got two? Is one for hot and one for
cold milk?'
MELANIE (age 5) asked her Granny how old she was. Granny replied she was
so old she didn't remember any more. Melanie said, 'If you don't remember you
must look in the back of your panties. Mine say five to six.'
STEVEN (age 3) hugged and kissed his Mom goodnight. 'I love you so much,
that when you die I'm going to bury you outside my bedroom window.'
BRITTANY (age 4) had an earache and wanted a painkiller. She tried in
vain to take the lid off the bottle. Seeing her frustration, her Mom explained
it was a childproof cap and she'd have to open it for her. Eyes wide with
wonder, the little girl asked: 'How does it know it's me?
SUSAN (age 4) was drinking juice when she got the hiccups. 'Please don't
give me this juice again,' she said, 'It makes my teeth cough.'
DI (age 4) stepped onto the bathroom scale and asked: 'How much do I
cost?'
MARC (age 4) was engrossed in a young couple that were hugging and
kissing in a restaurant. Without taking his eyes off them, he asked his dad: 'Why is he whispering in her mouth?'
JAMES (age 4) was listening to a Bible story. His dad read: 'The man named
Lot was warned to take his wife and flee out of the city but his wife looked
back and was turned to salt.' Concerned, James asked: 'What happened to the
flea?'
TAMMY (age 4) was with her mother when they met an elderly, rather wrinkled
woman her Mom knew. Tammy looked at her for awhile and then asked, 'Why
doesn't your skin fit your face?
The Sermon I think this Mom will never forget.... this particular Sunday
sermon...'Dear Lord,' the minister began, with arms extended toward heaven and a rapturous look on his upturned face. 'Without you, we are but dust.'
He would have continued but at that moment my very obedient daughter (who was listening!) Leaned over to me and asked quite audibly in her shrill little
girl voice, 'Mom, what is butt dust?'"
JACK (age 3) was watching his Mom breast-feeding his new baby sister.
After a while he asked: 'Mom why have you got two? Is one for hot and one for
cold milk?'
MELANIE (age 5) asked her Granny how old she was. Granny replied she was
so old she didn't remember any more. Melanie said, 'If you don't remember you
must look in the back of your panties. Mine say five to six.'
STEVEN (age 3) hugged and kissed his Mom goodnight. 'I love you so much,
that when you die I'm going to bury you outside my bedroom window.'
BRITTANY (age 4) had an earache and wanted a painkiller. She tried in
vain to take the lid off the bottle. Seeing her frustration, her Mom explained
it was a childproof cap and she'd have to open it for her. Eyes wide with
wonder, the little girl asked: 'How does it know it's me?
SUSAN (age 4) was drinking juice when she got the hiccups. 'Please don't
give me this juice again,' she said, 'It makes my teeth cough.'
DI (age 4) stepped onto the bathroom scale and asked: 'How much do I
cost?'
MARC (age 4) was engrossed in a young couple that were hugging and
kissing in a restaurant. Without taking his eyes off them, he asked his dad: 'Why is he whispering in her mouth?'
JAMES (age 4) was listening to a Bible story. His dad read: 'The man named
Lot was warned to take his wife and flee out of the city but his wife looked
back and was turned to salt.' Concerned, James asked: 'What happened to the
flea?'
TAMMY (age 4) was with her mother when they met an elderly, rather wrinkled
woman her Mom knew. Tammy looked at her for awhile and then asked, 'Why
doesn't your skin fit your face?
The Sermon I think this Mom will never forget.... this particular Sunday
sermon...'Dear Lord,' the minister began, with arms extended toward heaven and a rapturous look on his upturned face. 'Without you, we are but dust.'
He would have continued but at that moment my very obedient daughter (who was listening!) Leaned over to me and asked quite audibly in her shrill little
girl voice, 'Mom, what is butt dust?'"
Saturday, May 27, 2006
The Official Reality Dot Appreciation Page
The Official Reality Dot Appreciation Page: "The Official Reality Dot Appreciation Page"
SFO Magazine Official Journal for Personal Investing in Stocks, Futures and Options
SFO Magazine Official Journal for Personal Investing in Stocks, Futures and Options: "What I Learned Trading in 2005
by: Thomas N. Bulkowski"
by: Thomas N. Bulkowski"
Yahoo! Mail - jdr1228@yahoo.com
Yahoo! Mail - jdr1228@yahoo.com: "Idle thoughts of a retiree's mind wandering...
...I planted some bird seed. A bird came up. Now I don't know what to feed it.
...I had amnesia once -- or twice.
...I went to San Francisco. I found someone's heart. Now what?
...Protons have mass? I didn't even know they were Catholic.
...All I ask is a chance to prove that money can't make me happy.
...If the world was a logical place, men would be the ones who ride horses sidesaddle.
...What is a 'free' gift? Aren't all gifts free?
...They told me I was gullible... and I believed them.
...Teach a child to be polite and courteous in the home and, when he grows up, he'll never be able to merge his car onto the freeway.
...Experience is the thing you have left when everything else is gone.
...One nice thing about egotists: they don't talk about other people.
...My weight is perfect for my height -- which varies.
...I used to be indecisive. Now I'm not sure.
...The cost of living hasn't affected its popularity.
...How can there be self-help 'groups'?
...If swimming is so good for your figure, how do you explain whales?
...Show me a man with both feet firmly on the ground, and I'll show you a man who can't get his pants off.
...Is it my imagination, or do buffalo wings taste like chicken?"
...I planted some bird seed. A bird came up. Now I don't know what to feed it.
...I had amnesia once -- or twice.
...I went to San Francisco. I found someone's heart. Now what?
...Protons have mass? I didn't even know they were Catholic.
...All I ask is a chance to prove that money can't make me happy.
...If the world was a logical place, men would be the ones who ride horses sidesaddle.
...What is a 'free' gift? Aren't all gifts free?
...They told me I was gullible... and I believed them.
...Teach a child to be polite and courteous in the home and, when he grows up, he'll never be able to merge his car onto the freeway.
...Experience is the thing you have left when everything else is gone.
...One nice thing about egotists: they don't talk about other people.
...My weight is perfect for my height -- which varies.
...I used to be indecisive. Now I'm not sure.
...The cost of living hasn't affected its popularity.
...How can there be self-help 'groups'?
...If swimming is so good for your figure, how do you explain whales?
...Show me a man with both feet firmly on the ground, and I'll show you a man who can't get his pants off.
...Is it my imagination, or do buffalo wings taste like chicken?"
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Something... and Half of Something: Guard Our Borders!
Something... and Half of Something: Guard Our Borders!: "A Cool Change
A Lady's Ruminations
A Tic In The Mind's Eye
Adam's Thoughts
Amber and Chaos
Amboy Times
American Daughter
Bear Creek Ledger
BobGriggs.com
Cao's Blog
Charming Just Charming
Church and State
Customer Servant
DeMediacratic Nation
E L Frederick
Euphoric Reality
Fort Wayne Libertarian Mike Sylvester
Freedom Folks
Gribbit's Word
Gun Toting Liberal*new!
Independent Conservative
Intergalactic Source of Truth
Jarhead's Firing Range
Kender's Musings
Life~Florida~Whatever
LomaAlta
Mensa Barbie Welcomes You
Morning Glory 2
Most Certainly Not
Mover Mike
Musings and Ramblings
NIF
Nova Townhall Blog
Ogre's Politics and Views*new!
Pamibe
Parrot Check
Part-Time Pundit
Politics, Parenting and Other Hazardous Pastimes
Publius Rendezvous
Ravings of a Mad Tech
Right As Usual
Right on Blog
Right on the Right
Right Truth
Right Wing Howler
Something and Half of Something
Stuck on Stupid
Subterfuge
Team Swap*new!
The Irate Nation
The Neo-Con Blogger
The Original Gobbleblog
The Right Track
Theodore's World
Third World County
TMH's Bacon Bits
Universe and Other Things
Vanishing American
Watchman's Words
Woman Honor Thyself"
A Lady's Ruminations
A Tic In The Mind's Eye
Adam's Thoughts
Amber and Chaos
Amboy Times
American Daughter
Bear Creek Ledger
BobGriggs.com
Cao's Blog
Charming Just Charming
Church and State
Customer Servant
DeMediacratic Nation
E L Frederick
Euphoric Reality
Fort Wayne Libertarian Mike Sylvester
Freedom Folks
Gribbit's Word
Gun Toting Liberal*new!
Independent Conservative
Intergalactic Source of Truth
Jarhead's Firing Range
Kender's Musings
Life~Florida~Whatever
LomaAlta
Mensa Barbie Welcomes You
Morning Glory 2
Most Certainly Not
Mover Mike
Musings and Ramblings
NIF
Nova Townhall Blog
Ogre's Politics and Views*new!
Pamibe
Parrot Check
Part-Time Pundit
Politics, Parenting and Other Hazardous Pastimes
Publius Rendezvous
Ravings of a Mad Tech
Right As Usual
Right on Blog
Right on the Right
Right Truth
Right Wing Howler
Something and Half of Something
Stuck on Stupid
Subterfuge
Team Swap*new!
The Irate Nation
The Neo-Con Blogger
The Original Gobbleblog
The Right Track
Theodore's World
Third World County
TMH's Bacon Bits
Universe and Other Things
Vanishing American
Watchman's Words
Woman Honor Thyself"
Saturday, May 20, 2006
Fear, Complexity, Environmental Management in the 21st Century
Fear, Complexity, Environmental Management in the 21st Century: "n other words, the greatest damage to the people of Chernobyl was caused by bad information. These people weren’t blighted by radiation so much as by terrifying but false information. We ought to ponder, for a minute, exactly what that implies. We demand strict controls on radiation because it is such a health hazard. But Chernobyl suggests that false information can be a health hazard as damaging as radiation. I am not saying radiation is not a threat. I am not saying Chernobyl was not a genuinely serious event."
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Townhall.com :: Columns :: Is thinking obsolete? by Thomas Sowell - May 10, 2006
Townhall.com :: Columns :: Is thinking obsolete? by Thomas Sowell - May 10, 2006: "Amid all the hysteria among politicians and in the media over rising gasoline prices, and all the outraged indignation about oil company profits and their executives' high pay and lavish perks, has anybody bothered to even estimate how much effect any of this actually has on the price we pay at the pump?"
Monday, April 24, 2006
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Warts & All: Hey, Teenagers! Enjoy Yourselves While You Can!
Warts & All: Hey, Teenagers! Enjoy Yourselves While You Can! Some have it pretty tough growing up.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Monday, April 17, 2006
Welcome to AnnCoulter.com
Welcome to AnnCoulter.com: "BROWN IS THE NEW BLACK
April 12, 2006
This is the only country on Earth that thinks it's not sporting to consider our own interests in choosing immigrants. Try showing up in any other country on the planet, illiterate and penniless, and announcing: 'I've seen pictures of your country and it looks great. I think I'd like to live here! Oh, and by the way, would you mind changing all your government and business phone messages, street signs and ballots into my native language? Thanks!' They would laugh you out of the countr"
April 12, 2006
This is the only country on Earth that thinks it's not sporting to consider our own interests in choosing immigrants. Try showing up in any other country on the planet, illiterate and penniless, and announcing: 'I've seen pictures of your country and it looks great. I think I'd like to live here! Oh, and by the way, would you mind changing all your government and business phone messages, street signs and ballots into my native language? Thanks!' They would laugh you out of the countr"
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Hog On Ice
Hog On Ice: "Little Victories, April 16, 2006
How I Earned my Oxygen Today
1. I discovered three Lester Young albums which look to be pretty excellent. First, Lester Young With Oscar Peterson Trio. I guess Lionel Twain must have named it. The samples are mindblowing. Ladies, if you think you hate jazz, go to Amazon and listen to this album's rendition of 'Stardust.' You will realize that you were wrong. Throw out those goddamn shitty Kenny G. albums. That isn't romance. THIS is romance.
Second, The Lester Young Trio. Guess what 'trio' mean? It means Lester Young, BUDDY RICH, and NAT KING COLE. Talk about crappy marketing. 'Trio'? Are you pulling my tit?
Third, Pres and Teddy. 'Pres' means 'Lester Young,' and 'Teddy' means 'Teddy Wilson,' one of the kings of elegant, tinkly, sophisticated jazz.
In case this is all blowing right by you, Lester Young was a sax player. And he didn't play music that was clever but hard to enjoy, like some people I could name. He had a soothing, gentle sound. Sort of like Oscar Peterson and Lionel Hampton.
2. I ate almost an entire bag of Cheddar Chex, and I washed it down with cane-sugar kosher-for-Passover Coke. I really enjoyed that. Tomorrow, back to salad and sawdust.
3. I found downloadable sheet music for 'Prisoner of Love.' A beautiful but neglected old standard. I remembered it when I saw that Lester Young played it.
4. I reached the point where I can play the third part of Chopin's A minor waltz well enough to practice it effectively, instead of sight-reading it at a glacier's pace. After I conquer this part, all I have to do is get through the A major bit, and then it's all repetition. According to my teacher. I'm afraid to look.
Every day, if you make an effort, something will go right. It's probably a good idea to think about those things before you go to bed.
I have two main tools for maintaining my motivation to practice the piano. First, I read a lot of books about pianists. Reading about other people playing the piano will make you want to play it, yourself. Second, after the nightly prayers, I go back over my daily practice in my head, and I pick out the things that went well. Even when I feel like I made no progress, if I think about it I always discover one or two definite improvements that justify the effort I put in during the day.
If that works for the piano, maybe it will work for other things."
How I Earned my Oxygen Today
1. I discovered three Lester Young albums which look to be pretty excellent. First, Lester Young With Oscar Peterson Trio. I guess Lionel Twain must have named it. The samples are mindblowing. Ladies, if you think you hate jazz, go to Amazon and listen to this album's rendition of 'Stardust.' You will realize that you were wrong. Throw out those goddamn shitty Kenny G. albums. That isn't romance. THIS is romance.
Second, The Lester Young Trio. Guess what 'trio' mean? It means Lester Young, BUDDY RICH, and NAT KING COLE. Talk about crappy marketing. 'Trio'? Are you pulling my tit?
Third, Pres and Teddy. 'Pres' means 'Lester Young,' and 'Teddy' means 'Teddy Wilson,' one of the kings of elegant, tinkly, sophisticated jazz.
In case this is all blowing right by you, Lester Young was a sax player. And he didn't play music that was clever but hard to enjoy, like some people I could name. He had a soothing, gentle sound. Sort of like Oscar Peterson and Lionel Hampton.
2. I ate almost an entire bag of Cheddar Chex, and I washed it down with cane-sugar kosher-for-Passover Coke. I really enjoyed that. Tomorrow, back to salad and sawdust.
3. I found downloadable sheet music for 'Prisoner of Love.' A beautiful but neglected old standard. I remembered it when I saw that Lester Young played it.
4. I reached the point where I can play the third part of Chopin's A minor waltz well enough to practice it effectively, instead of sight-reading it at a glacier's pace. After I conquer this part, all I have to do is get through the A major bit, and then it's all repetition. According to my teacher. I'm afraid to look.
Every day, if you make an effort, something will go right. It's probably a good idea to think about those things before you go to bed.
I have two main tools for maintaining my motivation to practice the piano. First, I read a lot of books about pianists. Reading about other people playing the piano will make you want to play it, yourself. Second, after the nightly prayers, I go back over my daily practice in my head, and I pick out the things that went well. Even when I feel like I made no progress, if I think about it I always discover one or two definite improvements that justify the effort I put in during the day.
If that works for the piano, maybe it will work for other things."
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