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Showing posts with the label Quiring (Rob)

Royals

What with news of the arrest of Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor, it’s useful to have an updated Royal Family tree with birth years, titles, and succession indicators: For some readers this will be old hat. Not for me, alas. I’ve seen just one episode of The Crown.

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Current reading (books):
  • W. J. Cash, The Mind of the South (for the group)
  • Agatha Christie, Evil Under the Sun
  • Agatha Christie (writing as Mary Westmacott), Absent in the Spring
  • E. W. Hornung, The Amateur Cracksman
  • C. S. Lewis, Perelandra
  • François Mauriac, The Holy Terror (a mini-book – for making up lost ground)
  • John Steinbeck, Tortilla Flat (ditto)
  • Aristotle, Poetics (ditto)
  • John Perry, A Dialogue on Personal Identity and Immortality (ditto)
  • Niccolò Machiavelli, The Prince (ditto; a re-read)
  • books, as yet unfinished, mentioned in previous entries
I was going to say it’s pretty cupcake, but surveying the list, I see the authors include two Nobel winners (Mauriac and Steinbeck), two Great Books of the Western World contributors (Aristotle and Machiavelli), and two theological giants (Christie and Lewis). So, not too shabby after all. Mr. Quiring would approve. Maybe not of Christie. I shake my head whenever well-read people don’t bother with Christie, especially if they do read Chesterton and Sayers. (See the latter’s gem “Aristotle on Detective Fiction,” which I found in Anthony Kenny’s Oxford World’s Classics edition of the Poetics.)

Self-care

Well, here I am out on the porch at five in the morning. This is another of my routines. I’ve been waking two hours earlier than Karin and Samuel: it’s the only quiet time guaranteed to me.

I alternate days of exercise and days of rest; on the days of rest, I sit out on the porch, in the dark. The porch bulb doesn’t work.

I daren’t remain inside the house – I daren’t make noise or inspire the kitties to make noise – I daren’t wake the boy.

The sun rises pretty late (we’re near the time zone’s western edge). Even though it’s dark, I take plenty of reading material with me. Today I have four volumes, and a printout of a philosophy article. I won’t be able to see any of it until fifteen minutes before Karin and Samuel wake up.

I hardly ever watch TV at this hour. All I do, besides pray, is type on the computer, drink tea, and listen to insects and trains.

It’s lovely. No wonder it has become a habit.

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100 Days of Dante (hat tip: Mr. Quiring) – a schedule for those who like to read the same thing as many other people. One hundred days, one hundred cantos.

The philosopher Eleonore Stump has taught a two-semester sequence pairing Dante with Aquinas (fall and spring). That schedule, also, is an intriguing possibility. It is not all bad to be out of collegiate work; I can read whatever I choose.

Now, if only I could change that porch bulb. …

1996, the best year in movie history, pt. 41: Normal life

Look who visited! Our high school teacher, Mr. Quiring – all the way from his new home in Nebraska. Here he poses with Mary, Stephen, and me.


Mrs. Quiring visited, too. We learned that she used to grade our reading journals (with terrific speed, as I recall). Credit to her.

Mr. Quiring was a good teacher when I was in school; ten years later, when I visited his class – Stephen was his student then – I thought he was even better. Afterward, he must have improved even more (although, now, he hasn’t been a classroom teacher for several years).

Yesterday he was brimming with pedagogical ideas – perhaps because he was in a room of teachers.

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Normal Life

This sad movie is in the tradition of Bonnie and Clyde, Badlands, Deep Crimson (also released in 1996), and, later, Monster. The criminal twosomes seem less glamorous and more pitiful with each passing movie. (I am not including The Honeymoon Killers, which I haven’t seen.) The distinctive feature of Normal Life is how mismatched and disconnected from one another the two criminals are. They quarrel their way through a pretty appalling marriage before they begin robbing banks. At first, they don’t even rob together; it’s the straitlaced husband, the ex-cop (Luke Perry), who does it by himself to make up for the spending of his unstable wife (Ashley Judd). But it’s the chilling, heartless wife who’s the adrenaline junkie. Once she learns what her husband is doing, she wants in on the fun, and it’s only a matter of time until each of them goes out in a (separate) blaze of glory. Another good movie that Normal Life reminds me of is At Close Range, with a criminal father-son duo played by Christopher Walken and Sean Penn. Both of these movies evoke a brutal U.S. ordinariness – in At Close Range it’s rural Pennsylvania, and in Normal Life it’s the blander Chicago suburbs. No poetry here – this isn’t Badlands. Normal Life opens with a long drive past suburban housing developments and strip malls. It’s almost painful how similar they are to the housing developments and strip malls of today. The movie was filmed on streets and in parking lots and banks where the real-life robbers operated; the locations couldn’t have been more generic if they’d been scouted.

Yet another reunion

Lots of rain this weekend, and some tornado warnings. I attended another Zoom meeting with my high school classmates. This time we listened to a guest lecture by our English teacher, Mr. Quiring, who talked about biblical allusions in literature, with examples from poems by G.K. Chesterton, Wilfred Owen, Luci Shaw, and (especially) Harry Smart; we focused on a poem of Smart’s called “The Hen and Her Chicks.” I took up the theme of the nurturing male caregiver and said that I had been reading Horton Hatches the Egg to Samuel.

Mr. Quiring called in from Nebraska. The rest of us called in from these places:

British Columbia (2)
California
The Denver airport (but this person lives in Montana)
Indiana
Papua New Guinea
Queensland
Quito
Texas
Washington State

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Samuel loves to play with our fancy TV remote, and, occasionally, he subscribes us to this or that streaming channel without our permission. Tonight he subscribed us to BritBox. No problem: we watch lots of British TV. A few months ago, however, he subscribed us to MOTV (My Outdoor TV). I tried to watch one of the shows – it was about the hunting of wild hogs, with bow and arrow – but couldn’t get into it. Samuel liked it, though.

Then, on Father’s Day, we went to a large gathering with Karin’s dad’s family. Karin’s male cousins were standing around in the yard putting their bows together, and Samuel went over and stood with them. It was a little precious.

Mr. Quiring

A note about Mr. Quiring, one of my high school teachers: a gracious, inspiring human being.