Last week my wife purchased three boxes of books at an auction.  In the boxes were four of a five volume set of children’s literature called The Children’s Hour.  It occurs to me that children were treated with greater respect back then than in much of the literature meant for them today.  Authors in the 1950s tried to “connect” with the reader as much as authors today, but the effort has an entirely different attitude.  Whereas the common ground today amongst author and child is immaturity, the authors of yesterday found maturity to be the common ground.  The above poem describes a very simple and profound moment in a way that doesn’t look down on children.  It assumes that they are human beings with a cache of relate-able profound experiences.  It doesn’t assume that they need jokes about yellow snow or exposed underpants or romanticized adolescent sex to capture their attention.  To me the subtext is, “I am a human being and I had this sharply realized experience.  Maybe you would enjoy hearing it since you too are a human being.”

It is said that folks in the Dark Ages looked at the ruins of the Roman Empire and had no idea how such things were constructed.  While it isn’t fair to say that we are in the Dark Ages of children’s literature, it may be fair to say its Golden Age was the 1950s.

This year’s Christmas Postcard owes much to my wife.  During the latter half of November we watched numerous (it felt like numerous) romantic comedies.  All the “follow your heart,” “believe in the power of your dreams,” “thinking is bad” moralism engulfed me, and I felt the need to combat the growing pressure of 90′s romantic comedies lest I should implode.  In order to press against the crushing embrace of women’s fantasy, I watched episodes of Surviving the Cut and Special Ops.  I actually completed this card while re-listening to Jack Coughlin’s excellent sniper memoir Shooter.  Not surprisingly, Santa ended up with a knife in his teeth.

This bearded president wanted to guard against the dishonorable drunken behavior on display at other Washington gatherings, so President Hayes and his wife kept an alcohol-free White House.  He spent the money normally used for alcohol on other entertainments for his guests, but this did not prevent his Secretary of State from teasing that at the White House “water flowed like wine.”

]]> http://atozach.com/2011/12/05/rutherford-b-hayes/feed/ 0 http://atozach.com/2011/11/04/tea-drinkers/ http://atozach.com/2011/11/04/tea-drinkers/#comments Fri, 04 Nov 2011 13:17:22 +0000 admin http://atozach.com/?p=1884

Last Sunday my wife and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary.  Though this couple isn’t Alissa and me (I don’t have either a mustache or a bowler), we do share their love of tea and of one another.

]]> http://atozach.com/2011/11/01/if-scary/feed/ 5 http://atozach.com/2011/10/28/freya-and-brisingamen/ http://atozach.com/2011/10/28/freya-and-brisingamen/#comments Fri, 28 Oct 2011 05:19:17 +0000 admin http://atozach.com/?p=1864 Continue reading →]]>

I’ve always wanted to enjoy the Arabian Nights and Norse Mythology.  I’ve given up on the Arabian Nights after several attempts at different stages of my life.  I find the stories unenjoyable and the characters needlessly cruel.  Norse Mythology is a little better, but is still hit or miss for me.  I have always resonated with C.S. Lewis admiration for “Northern-ness” as a genre of aesthetic pleasure.  Also, my grandfather is of Swedish descent so I have a soft spot for the Vikings.  I remember thumbing through a Time Life Book about Vikings many times as a boy.  One illustration of a Beserker charging into a wall of spears was solely responsible for searing into my brain the glory of lost causes.  Despite my appreciation of the Norse, their myths feel like they have too much architecture and too little heart.  The mechanics of the mythological world seem most front and center, while the emotional interest in the characters dwells backstage (Perhaps this is a problem with the adaptations I encounter and not with the tales themselves).

I did however read a story that effected me emotionally and the more I think about it, the more profound it seems.

Here’s a synopsis of the story:

The gods enjoy a state of innocence until three Giant women come to Asgard (the dwelling place of the gods) and throw a bit of a tupperware party for gold.  After this visit from the Giant women, the gods all begin to covet gold.  Odur is an exception.  He prefers the innocence of simplicity but his wife Freya wants to place an order for some gold.  She knows her husband disapproves so she sneaks away without his knowledge.  On the way, she trades her virtue for directions to the Giantesses and after a long and terrible journey she finds the Giantesses and receives a beautiful necklace.  She returns to her home in Asgard and finds her husband is missing.

He left her because she preferred the quest of a shining thing to her life with him.  She seeks him out without success.

Heimdall, the watcher of the gods tells Freya that Odur will never be found by the one who searches for him.  Freya ceases her searching and returns to Asgard with her necklace (Brisingamen), which is now a sign of sorrow.  The poets call her the “Lady of Tears.”

What makes the story stand out isn’t the anti-gold message.  Materialism is a danger and Freya’s pursuit for a gold necklace appeals to her vanity but costs her far more than she predicts.  That’s a good point, sure.  But the more profound point is that Freya desired something that was wrong.  Her strong desire didn’t sanctify the quest.  It’s not an Oprah, “what-does-your-heart-tell-you” story.  Her heart tells her to get gold and she ends up sleeping with dwarves, losing her husband, and crying all the time.  The story is profound because it suggests that what she wanted isn’t really what she wanted.  This story moved me because it displays a conflict in the human will that causes us to want what we don’t really want.  Furthermore, it puts the lie to that popular notion that innocence is to be discarded as quickly as possible.  Rather, it states that innocence lost is really something to cry about.