Tradition?

A "time-honored practice"?  Here's another definition:

Tradition is just peer pressure from dead people.

Think about the traditions in your family.

Do you hate any of them ... and do them anyway?

Or have you chosen to let some fall by the wayside?

Thinking about tradition reminds me of Tevye in "Fiddler on the Roof."

Click that link to watch the video of him singing that song.

I have my own tradition about books:  I re-read the really good ones.  I have just added this book to my Kindle because I haven't read it in awhile.  The cover Amazon showed me is NOT the cover of the paperback copy I've read in the past (more than once), but here's the latest cover.

The Social Construction of Reality: A Treatise in the Sociology of Knowledge ~ by Peter L. Berger and Thomas Luckmann, 1966, sociology, 189 pages (before the copious notes)

In this seminal book, Berger and Luckmann examine how knowledge forms and how it is preserved and altered within a society.  Unlike earlier theorists and philosophers, the authors go beyond intellectual history and focus on commonsense, everyday knowledge — the proverbs, morals, values, and beliefs shared among ordinary people.  When first published in 1966, this systematic, theoretical treatise introduced the term "social construction," effectively creating a new thought and transforming Western philosophy.

My grandson has gotten a doctorate in physical therapy.

His parents (and the rest of the family) are very proud of him.

Stories about my dad

For Christmas 2003, I gave each of my grandchildren a piece of history, a story about their ancestors.  Everyone got a different tale, which meant they would have to share their stories in order to get a fuller picture of the people from their past.  My three grandsons got stories about their great-grandfather William Elmer Setliffe, Jr.  My four granddaughters got stories about their great-grandmother Mildred Inez Reynolds Setliffe, which I'll share next Thursday.

For Kendall

My dad spent a lot of his growing-up years on Main Street [in Chattanooga, Tennessee].  That's where his father, my "pops," had his meat market.  Both my dad and his brother Jeff became meat cutters like their father, and each eventually had his own store or meat market.  Dad opened his grocery store at the corner of Main Street and Central Avenue, only a few blocks from where his father's meat market had been.  The meat counter had a glass front like those in a deli today.  I have a 1942 photo of the store showing Pops on the left (with center counters hiding the fact that he had had one leg amputated), Dad wearing his white apron and leaning an elbow on the back counter where he weighed meat on the big white scales, and two assistants in the back.

I remember living behind our store, and Dad's parents lived there with us.  One morning, Pops was shaving in the bathroom and one button of his long johns was unbuttoned.  I giggled and pointed and sing-songed:  "I see Popsy's hiney!"  My elders enjoyed that story for years.

I remember only a few "important" things about the store, since I was only two when I lived there.  By important things, I mean my job.  I got to arrange the apples in the front window.  My daddy let me stand on a stool and put the apples on the slanted board.  I can also tell you exactly where the cookie bins were ― in the center of the store.  Getting a cookie, either to sell or nibble, meant taking the silver top off the big glass container and reaching in for the cookie you wanted.  The jars were on a lower shelf, exactly at the eye level of a little girl like me.

I told [my son] David, when he was promoted from bag boy to the meat section of Pruett's [grocery store] on Signal Mountain, that he was following in the footsteps of his ancestors.  I could remember seeing my dad with gauze around a thumb because he had chopped meat a bit too close to his own hand.  Once when I was at Pruett's, I saw David behind the counter with his thumb similarly wrapped ― and the bandage was soppy wet.  Until that moment, I had forgotten that Dad's bandage was also usually wet from handling the frozen food.  I was not too happy about that particular connection between my son and my father, but I guess it comes with the territory ― using meat cleavers and sharp knives.  Still, I couldn't resist telling David no one wanted part of his thumb in their meat.

When I began managing the Trenton bookstore in August [of 2003], I felt totally at home.  Recently, it occurred to me that the bookstore is about the size of Dad's meat market and I'm following the family tradition, retailing to customers who prefer small stores.  No wonder I love working there.

For Chase

My dad had two children and one more on the way in 1944, when World War II was in its next-to-last year.  Being a father had kept him out of the war until then, but in 1944 he was drafted.  He had to leave before Christmas, but Santa was good to us that year and came early so Daddy could enjoy Christmas with us before he left.  I was four years old as I stood on the sofa, waving goodbye to him through the window, and Billy would have been barely two.  Dad was wearing his Army uniform and waved as he walked up the sidewalk.  My little sister, Ann, was born the following March and was several months old before Daddy came home again.

The Army had a funny way of assigning jobs.  Because Dad owned a meat market and grocery store, someone must have thought "food" and decided my daddy should be a cook.  He didn't know how to cook, not at all.  So he wrote home to his wife, my Mama, and asked for her recipes.  Can you imagine taking a recipe to make something for a family of four and multiplying it to feed thousands of men?  That's what he did.  Apparently he did a pretty good job as a cook and came home still cooking "enough to feed an army."  He loved to make chili, but there was always enough to feed the whole neighborhood, literally!  So we would have a block party even before it was called that.  He would use a white coffee cup to ladle out the chili.

It's funny that I miss his chili and wish I could have some now, because I never wanted his chili when I was a child.  It burned my mouth and was too spicy for me.  I guess that's the way the soldiers preferred it, and I would probably like it now.  I wonder if I could find his recipe if I looked through old family papers.  Probably not, because Daddy mostly cooked by dumping in lots of meat and beans and spices and tasting until it was just the way he wanted it.

If he were still alive, I know he'd be sitting around telling you about all his exploits in Japan and in the Philippines.  He would tell you about sailing to the Philippines on the U.S.S. Enterprise, an aircraft carrier.  It was the biggest ship the Navy had at that time, so you could probably find a photo of that ship in a history book or an encyclopedia.  But I've saved you the time by printing out some information I found online for you.  He loved to tell stories, and he would illustrate the letters he sent home to us.  He drew not only things he saw, but cartoons about cows or anything he thought would make us laugh and enjoy his letters.

For Jamey

My dad was in the Army during World War II and was sent to Japan near the end of the war.  He was in the First Cavalry [division], which had a yellow patch with a black stripe slanted across it and the head of a horse in the upper part.  It looks like the one at the right side of this paragraph.  One of the funny stories he told was about the Japanese making replacement patches for the Army and making the "horses" with long ears.  They were making jackasses out of the First Cavalry!

My dad liked to tell stories and make people laugh, so I'm never quite sure whether a story was true or was "elaborated."  Even though Dad was a cook, he also drove big trucks and (according to him) led convoys of trucks because of his good sense of direction.  The soldiers, after all, couldn't read Japanese road signs.  When we children would ask him to tell us about the war, he said he had "captured two Japs."  Then he would tell the truth about that capture:

One night he was writing a letter to Mama (and us kids) and heard footsteps in the gravel outside his tent.  When he went silently to investigate, he found two Japs (what we called the Japanese people during the war).  The two were trying to steal food, and Daddy was the cook.  He grabbed both of them without having to fire a shot.  Only at the end of the story did Daddy admit the two he "captured" were children.  Although he didn't say so, I can only imagine my child-loving daddy fed those hungry kids before he turned them in.

In another story Daddy told us about hearing piano music coming from a Japanese house he was walking past.  He stopped and tried to tell the owner he wanted to listen.  The man, however, thought Dad wanted his daughter, who was playing the piano.  So he got very angry and ran Dad off, even though he simply wanted to listen to the music.  Back home in Chattanooga, as Daddy knew, I was learning to play the big upright piano in the living room.  All he wanted was to think about music and his family.  My dad was a family man who loved his children.  He was missing us when he heard the piano inside that house.

Hygge Holiday Challenge ~ first update

Dec. 1 ~ start a gratitude list

• Three children ~ Barbara, Sandra, and David.
• Seven grandchildren ~ Kendall, Cali, Brandy, Kenzie, Chase, Jamey, and Cady.
• Six great-grandchildren ~ Raegan, Jaxon, Shelby, Jonathan, Micah, and Shiloh.

Dec. 2 ~ add relaxing scents

I lit a vanilla-scented candle and bought a new hand soap scented with coconut water and mango to use in the kitchen.  I'm already using hand soap in the bathroom that's lavender-scented.

Dec. 3 ~ more gratitude

Since I'm retired, the challenge on the list makes no sense for me:  "sleep in 15 mins or more."  I can do that any day.  Instead, I'll add to my gratitude list.

Randi Schenberg

I'm very grateful for the Crown Center for Senior Living for being the great place for active retirees that it is.  That means being thankful for the wonderful people on the staff and the board.  Randi Schenberg, the Community Relations Director, was the first person I met at the Crown Center, when I applied to live here.  In February, Randi was given the 2017 JProStl Pillar Award, and I posted a 2-minute video about it on this blog.  Thanks, Randi, for your smiles and all you do for the Crown Center!

Dec. 4 ~ learn a new skill

I'm still trying to learn how to operate my new computer.  I've been very annoyed trying to use Windows 10.  Oops!  Being annoyed is not very "hyggeligt" ― it doesn't create a cozy environment.  I'll get someone to help me with the new laptop, but not today.  I'm going to get comfy, instead, and read a book.

Dec. 5 ~ get the Hygge book

I went to the University City Library and got a copy of The Little Book of Hygge: Danish Secrets to Happy Living by Meik Wiking.  Loosely translated, hygge is a sense of comfort, togetherness, and well-being.  It's about an atmosphere and an experience, like being cuddled up on a sofa, wearing cozy socks, and covered by a soft throw during a storm.  And don't forget to light a candle or two.

Dec. 6 ~ "unbook" yourself

Too late!  I had already agreed to drive my friend Barbara somewhere today.  Watching her enjoy old friendships was also joyful for me, so it worked out perfectly.  On our way back home, we stopped at the pharmacy to pick up prescriptions for Barbara and for another Crown Center resident, since we were going there anyway.  She and I also had lunch together in the Circle@Crown Café and visited with several people, including Judy and Marianne.

Dec. 7 ~ send a thank you note

I looked through my cards and found this one that says "Thoughts of you..." on the front and on the inside "...are the happiest kind!"  Who and why shall remain between the recipient and me, but the card is on its way.

The challenge
Click this link to see the complete Hygge Holiday Challenge calendar.

Thursday Thirteen ~ family on my mind

1.  Shiloh Mae, due to arrive in November, is my sixth great-grandchild.  Shiloh means "one who is peaceful."

2.  Jaxon has been to the doctor twice and to the ER for fluids. No one knew exactly what was wrong with him, his mom reported today when she asked for prayers.  Late in the day, she had a call from the doctor and learned he has salmonella, apparently from a restaurant.  That's the only time he ate anything different from the rest of the family.

3.  My twins took part in the Race for the Cure over the weekend.

4.  I got to visit with David and Sharon while in Chattanooga this summer.

5.  Jamey graduating from the university.

6.  Micah is busy crawling through the tube.

7.  Jonathan is absorbed in his activity.

8.  Cady now has a driver's licence.

9.  Shelby and I like cats.

10.  Sandra at Raegan's school on Grandparents' Day, today.

11.  I visited my sister Ann on July 14th, three weeks before she died.

12.  Sandra and Barbara in the Race for the Cure ran into Chase on the UTC campus.

13.  Grandkids when there were only six.  Clockwise from top left:  Brandy, Kendall, Cali, Kenzie, Jamey, and Chase.

TBT ~ my grandchildren

Back row:  Brandy, Kendall, Cali

Front row:  Chase, Jamey, Kenzie

This was about 1994.  Cady, my 7th grandchild, was not born until 2000.

Sunday Salon ~ life goes on

BOOKS
Tomorrow, my face to face group will meet to start our discussion of Karen Armstrong's Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life (2010).

I had hoped to have finished reading The Case for God (2009) as part of my background reading, but I haven't even cracked it open yet.  I know why I haven't been reading much and only got three posts written for the entire first half of this month — one of my best friends died December 29th.  Jane had asked me to do her funeral, which was actually a memorial service on Saturday, January 4th, followed by her burial at National Cemetery on Monday the 6th.  Then I could turn off my "official role" and grieve.  Nothing seems quite right anymore, though I have been going through the motions.  Something makes me smile, and I want to tell Jane about it — or I'm out running errands and want to call Jane to meet me for lunch.  I miss her — a lot — but life must go on.

LIFE GOES ON
My grandson Jamey turned 21 last week.  Here he is at his birthday dinner, sitting beside 4-year-old Raegan, who loves her Uncle Jamey.

I bought a new dryer, after the old one went "snap-clunk" in the middle of drying a load of clothes.  The new one arrived the same day the apartment complex decided to reinforce the balconies above my patio, starting early in the morning.  That involved setting up scaffolding which completely blocked my patio and the door that was the most direct way to bring the new dryer from the delivery truck in the parking lot.  (And remove the even heavier OLD dryer.)  The result was that we had to move furniture and boxes of books to allow entrance from our other door — NOT the way we had intended to spend our day.  But it's nice to have a dryer again.

Click to enlarge the pictures

Rory, a story teller from Ireland, invented Story Cubes.  I'm fascinated by these, and there's even a blog about Rory's adventures in taking his cubes to different places all over the world.  The cubes can be used as ice breakers at meetings or to get children to open up and tell stories.  Though there are several sets available, I chose to show you this one because I especially like the cube at bottom center that shows a person reading.  (Of course!  After all, this is a book blog.)  Pick a couple of the pictures on these cubes and tell me a story in the comments.

The Sunday Salon's Facebook page links to other blogs.

Sunday Salon ~ chickens and books

First, the books

I have a stack of library books still to read, but I may set them aside to read one of the books Donna has put in my hands.  Yesterday, she handed me Room by Emma Donoghue (2010), which I could call library loot, since I picked it up for her the other day when I was at the library getting my own books.

To five-year-old-Jack, Room is the world.  It's where he was born, it's where he and his Ma eat and sleep and play and learn.  At night, his Ma shuts him safely in the wardrobe, where he is meant to be asleep when Old Nick visits.  Room is home to Jack, but to Ma it's the prison where she has been held for seven years.  Through her fierce love for her son, she has created a life for him in this eleven-by-eleven-foot space.  But with Jack's curiosity building alongside her own desperation, she knows that Room cannot contain either much longer.

The other book is The Last Week by Marcus J. Borg and John Dominic Crossan (2006), which is the March choice for her book club.  Since I'm considering joining that group, I should probably read the  book, especially since I think these writers are excellent, whether writing alone or together.

Borg and Crossan discovered that many Christians are unclear on the details of events during the week leading up to Jesus's crucifixion.  Using the gospel of Mark as their guide, Borg and Crossan present a day-by-day account of Jesus's final week of life.  They begin their story on Palm Sunday with two triumphal entries into Jerusalem.  The first entry, that of Roman governor Pontius Pilate leading Roman soldiers into the city, symbolized military strength.  The second heralded a new kind of moral hero who was praised by the people as he rode in on a humble donkey.  Jesus is this new moral hero, a more dangerous Jesus than the one enshrined in the church's traditional teachings.  The Last Week depicts Jesus giving up his life to protest power without justice and to condemn the rich who lack concern for the poor.

Have you read either of these books?  What do you think?  Should I read one of these or one of the seven I still have checked out from the library?

1. The Book Thief ~ by Markus Zusak, 2006, YA fiction (Germany) ~ due 1-31
2. Gilgamesh ~ by Joan London, 2003, fiction (Australia and Armenia) ~ due 1-31
3. The Yiddish Policemen’s Union ~ by Michael Chabon, 2007, fiction (Alaska) ~ due 1-31
4. The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian ~ by Sherman Alexie, 2001, YA fiction ~ due 2-6
5. The Discovery of Jeanne Baret ~ by Glynis Ridley, 2010, biography ~ due 2-14
6. The Knife of Never Letting Go ~ by Patrick Ness, 2008, YA fiction ~ due 2-18
7. Inside Out and Back Again ~ by Thanhha Lai, 2011, children's (Alabama) ~ due 2-20

Second, the chickens

"Why did the chicken cross the road?"  Google helped me find some answers and even more humorous pictures.  One web site has a Chickens Crossing lesson plan for drawing and writing sentences, along with this video of what children have come up with:



My favorite on this video is the chicken who crossed the road "to rescue his girlfriend from Colonel Sanders."  Elsewhere online, I found out the chicken (or should it be chickens, plural?) crossed the road "to show the possum it could be done."  Captain James T. Kirk says, "To boldly go where no chicken has gone before."  A cartoon showed a hen telling a duck, "To be perfectly honest, I cross the road to get away from my husband."  Here's a link to lots of answers, from people like Darwin and Moses and Martin Luther King, Jr., who is quoted by this cartoon chicken:

By the way, you do know that a chicken crossing the road is poultry in motion, right?  Okay, it's a pun, but I like puns — because I like to play with words.  So here's a compound pun by Richard Whately that I simply must share with you:

"Why can a man never starve in the Great Desert?  Because he can eat the sand which is there.  But who brought the sand which is there?  Noah sent Ham, and his descendants mustered and bred."

Get it?  Sand-which-is?  Musterd?  Bred?  Oh, and maybe I should mention that Noah's sons are named Shem, Ham, and Japheth (see Genesis 6:10).

Third, another date

Jamey at the Pocket Wilderness near Montlake yesterday

Another view with Jamey taken yesterday

Earlier this week, Jamey called me from the University and came by my house on his way home from classes.  We talked a bit, then went to Wendy's for lunch — I love their salads and he had a burger.  I ask you, can anything be grander than taking a handsome grandson to lunch when he chose to come visit on his own?

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Sunday Salon ~ life and books

More TSS posts can be found on Facebook.

Family

Let me tell you about the best date I've had in years.  On Thursday evening, my grandson and I went to Chili's for dinner.  He'll be 19 next week, is over six feet tall (6'3"), and towers over me.  And he's amazingly polite.  He opened the car door, let me out at the door when we discovered the parking lot was full, tried to pay for the meal (no, grandmothers get to do that), and — immediately after he got home — posted a thank you message on Facebook to let me know how much he enjoyed the evening.  I'm so glad he's my grandson.  I told Jamey about the "olden days" when I was dating his grandfather and how romantic he had been on the night he proposed to me.  One week after we were married, he brought me a long-stemmed red rose; the second week, two red roses; then three the next week and four the next; and a half-card (literally, an anniversary card cut in half) when we'd been married six months.  The next day, Jamey posted this on Facebook:

"I learned a whole new side about my Grandpa that i never knew last night. Thank you Bonnie Setliffe Jacobs."

Friends

A couple of days ago, I attended the First Friday event Leap into Art, a group exhibit of original artwork celebrating leap year, at the In-Town Gallery, to see my friend Jane's artwork.  This week, I've been teaching Jane how to blog.  Since she is still learning, I won't link to her blog (yet), but she's coming along faster than I did.  I learned by trial and error, so she is benefitting from my knowledge, and — as of January 30 — I've been at it for five years.  As I think back over the years, I realize I've come a long way, baby!

Books

For some reason, I bogged down in the chapter "The New Testament and Anti-Judaism" in the middle of The Misunderstood Jew: The Church and the Scandal of the Jewish Jesus by Amy-Jill Levine.

So I have set it aside for the time being and have started reading 11/22/63, a novel by Stephen King about a time-traveling attempt to thwart JFK's assassination.  This is a 849-page book, so it ought to keep me busy for a few days.

I finished reading my first book of 2012:  Salvage the Bones by Jesmyn Ward, a 2011 novel, set in Mississippi, that I rated 9 of 10, an excellent book.

Celebrating at my house ~ with books, of course

Jaxon, my 1-year-old great-grandson, with his grandpa (my son) holding him and First 100 Animals, a board book.  Jaxon kissed that big tiger picture.

Raegan, my 2-year-old great-granddaughter, reading Blackboard Bear by Martha Alexander.

My daughter Barbara, on the right, with her three children:  Chase, Cady, and Cali.  Barbara is holding her copy of the family stories book I gave my children.

My daughter Sandra, trying to figure out why I gave her an old pink doll blanket.  Ask me, and I'll tell you the reason.  Her husband, Pat, managed to stay out of all my photos.  Behind her are her granddaughter Raegan, her son-in-law Michael (whose head seems to be missing), and her twin sister Barbara.

My grandson Jamey with his other grandmother (Patti) and his girlfriend, Amanda.

My granddaughter Kenzie, mother of Raegan.  Kenzie's husband, Michael, didn't get in any of my photos that turned out.

Jaxon, with his parents Whitney and Kendall, David, and my brother Jim behind them.  Jim's wife, Carol, avoided being in any of my photos.

My granddaughters Cady and Brandy, with Sharon, my favorite (and only) daughter-in-law.  I am blessed.

My son-in-law Greg, who is Cady's daddy.

Raegan, playing the piano for us, one note at a time.

David, wearing Jaxon's Cookie Monster backpack on one shoulder.

Our salon discussion today takes place here, in my living room.  Although temps have dropped below freezing a few times, it hasn't really been cool enough to light a fire, which is why I could line gifts up on the hearth in front of the fireplace before the family arrived.  Hey, Bookfool, that carefully assembled pile of books in the corner is the book tree that never reached the heights I imagined for it.  At the rate it was NOT tapering in, it would have had to reach the ceiling before it looked like a pointed fir, so I simply topped it with a steepled church (which has a light inside to show stained glass windows) and put the lights around it.  The red thing?  That's a wide ribbon hanging from the mistletoe on the ceiling fan.

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