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Bryony Artist Wednesday: Lucas Makes a Vampire Valentine

 

On Monday, I received the following text Sarah Stegall, Bryony's online administrator:

 

Lucas made a Valentine for a vet at the library. It sports a vampire bat heart, polka dots, and a coonskin cap. Some veteran is going to be pretty happy or creeped out, LOL!

 

Yesterday, Rebekah noticed as I hit "publish," that yesterday's blog was the 999th post. A friend commented that today's post should be epic. I already planned to run Lucas' Valentine today. Anyone that knows Lucas would agree there is no one more epic than he.

 

 

 

 

Blech

It's just one of those days.

An almost sixty degree, rainy January; someone please remind me this IS winter in the Midwest.

Under the weather, just a sore throat and body aches, nothing dramatic enough to take to bed, just enough to be slow at work and smart enough not to power walk in the downpour.

Another curve in our circumstances, for good, I hope??

A two-hour phone conversation with a friend in crisis sapped the rest of creative thinking. While talking with him, I realized I never posted a blog today.

So I'm sitting here at my computer, eating this really great salad and trying to finish some work that isn't due yet, except that it feels great to be ahead and wondering if I'd regret one last cup coffee circa midnight when I'd rather be sleeping.

Salad's done. So's my blog post, I think.

 

How a Series of Unrelated Events on Friday Made for a Strange Dream on Friday Night

Dreams.

For centuries, people have ascribed various interpretions to them. They foretell the future. They reveal our innermost aspirations. They're the sleeping brain's method of assimilating the day's experiences.

Well, I had a strange dream Friday night that illustrates the latter. Here are the collection of relatively insignificant events that happened on Friday.

*  Timothy got called into work for a few hours on his day off and wound up working a sixteen hour day. He's a culinary arts student and a banquet cook. Earlier that day, he and I were discussing the type of home he'd like to one day buy, and he described the residences of two of the chefs that mentor him.

*  I received an invite to a home party.

*  I polished off the remaining pepper jack cheese.

* I briefly co-miserated with a fellow Once Upon a Time fan about the unfairness of waiting three weeks for another episode. For those unfamiliar with the show, all the residents are fairy tale characters trapped in Storybrooke, Maine, a place where no one enters and leaves.

*  The principal of the small school--the one for which Christopher is building the computers--called to discuss some positive publicity to offset some negative publicity the school received. The principal said one of the moms brought it to her attention, but that mother was too shy to discuss it directly with me.

*  Some friends paid an unexpected visit, and we ended up briefly discussing food and drug allergies (I have both, as well as asthma and chronic hives).

* I worked waaaay too hard and waaaay too late and then unwittingly watched a video that was a little too violent for my tastes.

*  I fell asleep while texting a friend.


Okay, now for the dream:

I dreamt Timothy and I were inside this lavish home belonging to one of the chefs. They had just prepared a huge ham loaf with a pepper jack filling. Timothy was trying to persuade me to try some, but I'm paranoid because, since it was prepared entirely from scratch, there was no ingredient list for me to check. As Timothy keeps reassuring me, I leave the room to scrounge around in the chef's garbage anyway, convinced there's a label somewhere. Of course, I don't find one.

I return to the main room in time to see the chef stuff the body of a colleague into a garbage bag. Because this second chef had unwittingingly discovered the recipe to the ham and pepper jack loaf, the chef said he had to kill him. Besides, the recipe actually belonged to a huge corporation, and if word leaked out that this second guy knew it...well, the chef said it was better for his colleague to die at his hands than face the tortuous death of the corporation.

Unfortunately, since I had witnessed the death, I now would not be allowed to live. That's when I woke up the first time, flat on my back, heart racing, glad it was a dream. Unfortunately for me again, I went right back to the dream.

This time, it had changed a bit. I was living in a small town ruled by this corporation, which is now revealed to be Avon. The feminine powers that be had set an execution date. No one in this town ever challenged the decisions of the authorities because it would mean death for all and knowledge of our existence would then be known by the outside world.

In desperation, I texted my friend for help. He said that if I was scheduled to die, I'd better do it. My life was not work risking the safety of everyone else, including him. As I was standing in front of a public bathroom mirror brushing my hair, the shy woman next to me decided the town's policies were unfair, my upcoming execution was plain wrong, and that she was going to the media with the story, even if it cost her life. That was the only way, she felt to stop the ongoing persecutions.

And then the phone rang and woke me up.


 

Serenity

While my day no longer begins at midnight as it did in my newspaper delivery days, I still prefer waking long before dawn pushes back the night and enjoying the quiet house, morning prayers, and that first cup of coffee long before any humans awake, when only the cats are scampering about clamoring for breakfast.

My first Facebook post of the day is always a scripture verse since it orients my mind and heart to what I value most, listening for the will of God and carrying it out. This morning, I've already played with a story that won't be due for another week, and I have three more waiting for some preliminary editing before I perform the final copy edit and submit later this afternoon before leaving for an adventure (of sorts).

I love new beginnings!

The upswing of two working weekends and part of my peacefulness this dark and calm Sunday morning is that I'm caught up with my freelance work (temporary, I know, and yes, I do have a full week planned, no surprise to anyone that knows me, I'm sure) and look forward to spending some time editing Staked!, possibly even during the week, as well as the coming weekend.

For now, as I recline back in my desk chair gazing out my window and into the blackness, there's only the hum of Rebekah's fan, an occasional soft "Me-ow" from Alex, and a centeredness that feels so awesome.

Welcome, Sunday.

 

Piano Music - 'Reflections' by Roy Todd

New "Harold Masters" Submission and Story Round-Up

Bryony fan Heather Boster likes to write fiction, so she submitted part of a prologue to her novel-in-progress to the Harold Masters page of the BryonySeries website.

As you recall, Harold Masters was the unusual literature teacher at Munsonville School. Melissa fell in love with Bryony's story (and John Simons, too) after writing a research paper about Bryony's life for the village's centennial celebration. Mr. Masters' page is a place for fans to share their writings.

Here is Heather's piece:

http://www.bryonyseries.com/Harold_Masters.html



This week's Herald News stories:


Channahon youth brought joy to all around him

Despite a crippling disability, Timmy Davis blessed his family, friends, and the other children in Joliet Area Community Hospice's pediatric program.

http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/lifestyles/17592488-423/channahon-youth-brought-joy-to-all-around-him.html


Homes for the homeless

Meet a group committed to ending the puppy mill/pet store connection and a pet store owner who only offers dogs and cats from rescues and shelters.

http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/lifestyles/17708922-423/homes-for-the-homeless.html


JJC programs highlight early signs of Alzheimers

Although Alzheimer's disease is incurable, there are advantages to early diagnosis. Learn them here.

http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/lifestyles/17709191-423/jjc-programs-highlight-early-signs-of-alzheimers.html


Learning to act the part

Christopher Gleason is the cover illustrator for the 2012 holiday editor of Visage, but he's not the only artistic person in his family. Meet his sister. She acts, directs and teaches those same skills to teens.

http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/lifestyles/17729106-423/learning-to-act-the-part.html


Writing through the years

An 83 year old former VA nurse launched a second career in writing and published (so far) seven books. Check out her titles and learn about her latest novel.

http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/lifestyles/17609744-423/writing-through-the-years.html







 

"Spiced Chocolate" from the official BryonySeries cookbook

Brrrr....

We've had a bit of a cold snap in the part of my Munsonville world, and I'm wondering if I can persuade Rebekah to prepare some of this for me (and carry it up the ladder to my attic office, too).

It's interesting variation on our traditional hot chocolate beverages. Although this recipe is featured in the Simons Mansion section of Memories in the Kitchen: Bites and Nibbles from "Bryony," this first appeared in Miss Beecher’s domestic receiptbook: designed as a supplement to her Treatise on domestic economy.

Spiced Chocolate

1 quart milk

2 squares chocolate

1 stick cinnamon

A little nutmeg

Rich cream (optional)

 

Grate the chocolate. Put the cinnamon stick in the milk and then boil the milk, reserving a little cold milk to mix the chocolate, which must be perfectly smooth to a thin paste. When the milk boils, stir in the chocolate, and let it boil up quickly. Pour into a pitcher and grate on the nutmeg. Rich cream added to the milk will improve it.

James Onohan - Happy Again

I Attended a Groundbreaking Ceremony Today....

....for the Joliet Junior College new $50 million City Center Campus. This six story, 96,000 square foot building will house, among other departments, the school's nationally renowned culinary arts program.

 

One of my sons, Timothy Baran, will graduate from that program in May. He also currently works as a banquet chef at the school's Renaissance Center and hopes to one day teach at the school. My youngest daughter Rebekah Baran plans to enroll in its pastry division, which will begin once construction is complete.

 

I spent a happy afternoon there in both official and unofficial capacity, covering the story for a newspaper and supporting my children. The irony is that I learned about the quality of the culinary arts program from writing stories about it for the Herald News. We as a family like to cook, and when I ran a Sunday School and youth group, we often hosted cooking events as part of our actvities.

 

I mean, what's more fun than teaching a handful of kids and teens the basics of kitchen sanitation while preparing hundreds of homemade pirohi in a matter of hours to supply a St. Nicholas Banquet?

 

 

Melody fair-Bee Gees

Chopin - Romantic Piano (Nocturno nº2 Op.62)

Ed Calkins Wants to Know: How Does Barry Bonds' Behavior Influence Newspaper Carriers?

Dear MOMI (Mistress of My Immortality)

So how about the controversy about Bonds' induction to the hall of fame? Does he deserve it, considering he took performance enhancing drugs? Does his drug provider deserve it? Perhaps without him, Bonds would have play his career in the minors.

Who cares?

What I really want to talk about is this: Should news carriers take performace enhancing substances?

We've all done it. Most of us wouldn't think of delivering a route without a jumbo size shot of expresso or the like. I've witnessed married couples that do routes together devople horrible Tylenol addictions. Why, one ruthless guy used to pass out sugarfied peppermint to all his drivers as an energy suplement, despite the risk to the carriers of weight gain, sugar dependancy, and rotting teeth.

What's worse are the energy drinks that are popular with younger carriers. With them, running out of Red Bull  has the same effect as running out of gas on a route and has caused the term MPED (miles per energy drink) as a consideration to any destination.

 

What do you think?

 

 

Yours ruthlessly,

Ed Calkins,

Steward of Tara

"I'll be a Monster," by Stephanie Zydron and Story Round-Up

I'll be a Monster by Stephanie Zydron

An original piece Zydron composed for the WriteOn Joliet writers group (ww.writeonjoliet.com/index.html).


"I'll go as a monster!" he cheered in the store,
but he's refusing to wear it at all anymore.

"I don't like my pumpkin!" he cried three days later.
"I don't like his face, I want him an alligator."

"I hate trick or treating!" he shouted today.
"I hate Halloween! I just want to stay!"

"You'll want to go," assured his big brother.
"You're sure to have fun. Tonight's like no other."

"How do you know?" he asked with a sneer.
"How do you know I have nothing to fear?"

"Don't you want candy?" questioned the oldest.
"They give it out to the biggest and boldest."

"Of course I had fun!" he yelled across the floor.
"They gave us all candy at each single door."

"My face's the best," he whispered that night.
"Look how scary he is with the light!"

"I'll wear it forever," he said quiet as a peep.
Then he, as a monster, fell quickly asleep.



Lockport woman known for boundless generosity

Time, treasures, and talent: Helen Bogan gave of them all.

http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/lifestyles/17476694-423/lockport-woman-known-for-boundless-generosity.html


Pets welcome in God's house

Attending this Joliet church on Sunday doesn't mean you have to leave your pets at home.

http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/lifestyles/17572715-423/a-little-peace-of-mind.html


A little peace of mind

You've flunked your screening mammogram, but before you assume it's because you have breast cancer, read further.

http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/lifestyles/17572715-423/a-little-peace-of-mind.html


When you work is your passion

An author of a Christian middle-school series has a contact with Random House and a recently released young adult novel: a teen girl's seizures are really time travels.

http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/lifestyles/17477179-423/when-work-is-your-passion.html




 

Groovie Goolies - Episode # 1 - 1972

We Watched a Miracle Unfold, Thanks to Channahon Computer Repair

Last Satuday, my oldest son Christopher Baran, sole proprietor of Channahon Computer Repair (www.channahonpcrepair.com) hosted a recycle event that targeted only computers and computer parts, including printers.

While many communities do host recycle events, this one was rather different. Christopher's event accepted only computer-related items; it was held on the grounds of his home-based business; and the heart of it was a "fundraiser" of types, all the while supporting the "going green" concept and giving people a place to safely dispose of their unwanted supplies.

The beneficiary of his efforts is Christ's Academy in Shorewood (www.christsacademy.net), a small K-12 private school with an equally small computer lab containing just several, older-model (and in some cases non or barely functioning) computers.

Last fall, from a friend whose son attends the school, we learned the school was planning a chili buffet and silent auction to raise money to buy computer and science equipment. To help promote the event, I wrote a story for the Herald News. To help support the cause, I donated a Bryony basket.

Then the Holy Spirit tapped me on the shoulder with an idea. Why not let one "little guy" help anothe? I mentioned the idea to my mother as she assemebled the basket for me. She bought tickets to the dinner so the entire family could attend (including her and my father). There, I introduced Christopher to the principal, and he laid out the idea.

We advertised through print, radio, and Facebook. My wonderful graphic designer from CAL Graphics, Inc. designed a great flyer, and my good friend who owns a printing shop donated two hundred flyers, which we posted everywhere.

As news traveled, Christopher received many phone calls, starting a week before the event for pickups. He's continuing to receive calls. By Friday night, our mudroom and Christopher's office was overflowing with equipment.

Still, we did not expect what happened Saturday.

The amount of traffic to Channahon Computer Repair during the four hours of the recyle event was beyond amazing. At times, vehicles lined up nine cars deep to our house. We're not talking about people donating a monitor here and there. We're talking great big trucks and vans full of equipment or about three times the amount of recyle Christopher's seen by comparison at past community recycle events.

The overall goal was to supply the school with twelve to fifteen late model computers with up-to-date software for its students. Because much recycle is not reusable, Christopher estimated it would take many events to make that goal. He hoped to glean enough from his first attempt for two or three good computers.

In reality, Christopher just might have enough for six, enough to replace the school's existing equipment, enough to make half his goal. For now, that's just an estimate. He has an awful lot of material to test and strip for parts, and this will take some time.

Blogger wouldn't let me upload photos all of a sudden (GRUMBLE!), but you can see one HERE

Yes, the school will need to purchase some parts from its chili buffet funds for any parts that cannot be reused, so no, the computers won't be completely free to them. Nevertheless, Christopher is donating his labor, and the community donated the foundational supplies. The result is that the school should eventually wind-up with a full functioning, modern computer lab for its students by spending the most rock-bottom of funds.

If that's not a miracle, I don't know what is.

 

Guest Post by Sir Frederick Chook: "Summer in the West End"

Summer in the West End, by Sir Frederick Chook
Penned upon the 13th of June, 2013
First appeared in FrillyShirt (www.frillyshirt.org)

 

A dense and smothering heat had settled over the city. By the second day, noted barristers were seen soaking their wigs in ice-water before appearing before the courts. After five days, the national passion for talking about the weather had receded almost to nothing. At the end of the first week, it was reported that a town-breeder’s hen had laid a hard-boiled egg, and the general grumbling high and low was that something really ought to be done about it. In certain quarters, though, the atmosphere that was generally stifling instead had a stimulating effect, and certain fashionably intellectual suburbs in the West End were demonstrating that sort of fractious energy usually associated with funfairs or peasant uprisings.

Some of this excitation was purely administration. While the Braedon Arts Club were largely abroad, indulging in plein air excursions or less productive pastimes, their opposite neighbours – the Philistines Gallery – were involving in preparing their annual Great Purge (not to be confused with the Emetic Exhibition of their Continental rival, the Cabaret Calomel.) This popular event would see the opening of the Gallery’s large collection, representing a number of modernist schools – given by artists in default of bills, or seized by landlords in their reclamation of garrets and cellars whose modest rents have nonetheless fallen arrears. Year by year, the stolid public were brought in to witness this display of painting and sculpture, and, should any patron observe, for instance, that their five-year-old child could have done a better job, they were invited to produce the infant and demonstrate the proof of their claims. If successful, parent and child alike were awarded the original artwork, solemnly congratulated by the Chief Curator, and then kicked down the front stairs.

Not far away, a modest suite of offices leased by the Society for Farcical Research was buzzing with fresh discoveries. Years of research into the power of mind over matter had borne fruit. Dr Celia Flappevöte had, under controlled laboratory conditions, envisaged a given action – in this case, the decanting of a bowl of peaches into an iron kettle – and then, using only the muscles and other tissues connected by the nervous system to the brain, succeeded in translating this action into physical reality. This breakthrough – published alongside reports from Berlin that mental communication or “telecognition” had been achieved by method of tracing the intended message in graphite and then passing its reflection through the recipient’s optic nerve – was thought to confirm absolutely the fundamental unity of the intellectual and phenomenal spheres, and, incidentally, to have quite exploded Professor DeRinje’s theory of sweet/savoury dualism and his maxim to “act according to the custard of perception, for the noumenal soup acts only upon itself.”

Far beneath the feet of these worthy luminaries, less virtuous interests were finding the weather suited their purposes. “Areaway” Cole, relied on warm evenings – and the open windows and general lethargy they brought – for his career of burglary and cellar-pepping. This dishonourable practice involved gaining access to the below-stairs of a house and making off with the staff’s jewellery and petty cash. This was a step down in the world for Cole – once he had run for the Tite Street Boys, marking or “salting” these same cellars to the gang to raid. The world had moved about him, though, until he only had himself to rely upon, reduced to stuffing his pockets with trinkets for the pawnbroker and the rag-and-bone merchant, and lucky if he could afford one manicure a month. Still, he thought himself thankful that he could earn a dishonest living, when so many of his compatriots had turned to cocoa, prayer, and charitable works.

But, of course, these examples were very much the exceptions, and, further, the exceptions to the rule of exceptions proving the rule. As a whole, the city lolled, languished, and demanded ice-lollies, and waited for the mud and noise and welcome misery of the cooler months to return.

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Sir Frederick Chook is a foppish, transcendentalistic historian who lives variously by his wits, hand to mouth, la vie bohème, and in Melbourne with his wife, Lady Tanah Merah.

When not reading Milton and eating Stilton, he writes, ponders, models, delves into dusty archives, and gads about town. He has dabbled in student radio and in national politics, and is presently studying the ways of the shirt-sleeved archivist. He is a longhair, aspiring to one day be a greybeard. He has, once or twice, been described as “as mad as a bicycle.”

FrillyShirt is a compilation of articles, essays, reviews, photographs, artworks, question-and-answers, promotions, travelogues, diatribes, spirit journeys, cartoons, ululations and celebrations by Sir Frederick, his friends and contributing readers. Irregularly regular features include Teacup in a Storm, an etiquette column, and How to be Lovely, advanced speculations on the aesthetics of the self.

 

Other topics that pop up include fun things in and around Melbourne, art, nature, history, politics and schnauzers. Sir Frederick’s favorite color is all of them. Enjoy his writing? Drop him a telegram at fredchook@frillyshirt.org.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Just Received the Loveliest Telephone Call....

...from a woman who enjoyed my An Extraordinary Life story today and wanted to add a sweet memory from her own experiences. That phone call was an oasis in an extremely trying week and full, but satisfyingly productive, day.

I had the best post planned for today, but it's rather longish; I've been answering email and taking phone calls for the last few hours; and I still have two more stories to complete for the day. If not, I risk falling behind the rest of the week (I'd rather not).

Plus, I have photos to accompany that post, and since I don't have the camera, and I don't have anyone around (i.e. kids) that knows how to post them, I'll save that literary masterpiece for Wednesday.

Just to let you know: We witnessed a miracle this weekend, and the blessings are still unfolding.

Stayed tuned.

Romantic Piano Song - "Til the end" music by Music by Vadim Kiselev

I Turned Down a Marriage Proposal. Now Comes the Fallout

Last month, during the Ed Calkins Book Signing Tour for Visage, Ed finally popped the question. It went something like this:

"Denise, would you....?"

"No."

Ed raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"I'll never be part of a harem," I explained, "not even a verbal harem."

Except for shaking his head in rueful regret at my supposed foolishness in turning down this most celebrated proposal of the millenium, I assumed Ed would have the grace and tact not to mention it again.

I was wrong.

This past week, I received the following admonishment from the Steward.


Dear MOMI (Mistress of My Immortality):


I am going through that seasonal change right now where I no longer think I'm Santa Claus and am trying to get in the swing of "ruthless dictator" before my trembling charges think I've gone soft.

I know things should be awkward between the two of us since you declined my proposal of marriage before I voiced it. The truth is, I'm so experienced in such matters that I have to remind myself that it should feel awkward, even though I don't feel so.

You, however, are likely not as experienced at shooting down the offer of marriage. I will admit that your character, Melissa, though younger than you, handled it better by changing the subject rather than refusing.

It's a good thing I didn't buy a ring.

I figured that you, by now, feel uneasy about your decision. Therefore, I have resolved to allow you to make it up to me with an unsolicited contribution to the IVA. You could donate five percent of all proceeds of the BryonySeries that exceed forty-six million dollars.

I will not embarrass you by refusing your offer (Remember how much you have already done for the IVA) or point out how such a money trail would disrupt our secrecy. No, I will do none of that. Like Melissa, I will simply change the subject.

What was I talking about?


Yours ruthlessly,

Ed Calkins, Steward of Tara

 

 

 

"Who is John Truett?" "The World is Shallow" and Story-Round-Up

I don't generally endorse or not endorse the creative endeavors of anyone I profile for the newspaper, but I'm so enjoying the writings of Thomas Meisinger (including all four of his blogs), I'm making an exception.

This past spring, another writer shared Meisinger's contact information with me. He had asked her, a friend of his family's for a story about his first book, The World is Shallow; That's Why I Never Learned to Swim, but she passed on writing one since it didn't have a local spin for her publication.

Before I interviewed Meisinger, he sent me an e-copy of his semi-autobiographical novel. I read it over Memorial Day weekend. His fresh and audible writing style (The words literally disappear from the page, and you can "hear" him speaking) kept me huddled over the computer screen laughing, laughing and laughing some more. I recommended the book to quite a few people, and I'm recommending it again now.

Read a clip on Amazon.com and Meisinger's Herald News story on the link below it.

http://www.amazon.com/World-Shallow-Thats-Never-Learned/dp/1300039825/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1357908752&sr=1-1&keywords=Thomas+Meisinger#_

http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/lifestyles/13030901-423/comedian-turns-to-writing-to-share-humor.html

Meisinger contacted me around Christmas with a project he had initiated with the goal of spreading a little holiday mystery for others and finding "true love" for himself. He felt stumped at the lack of attention his idea, a rather clever one, too, garnished. I saw the story's merit, and gave it some posthumous attention here.

http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/lifestyles/16431919-423/not-such-a-mystery-after-all.html

I have Meisinger's permission to reprint some of his blogs on his page, which I'll be doing in future posts, guaranteed.


Here are my other Herald News stories for this week:


Lifelong hobby continues

When a man has both exceptional talent and steel ambition, age is no barrier to success.

http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/lifestyles/17346665-423/lifelong-hobby-continues.html


More sunny days ahead

Joliet Township Animal Control plans to do what other shelters across the country are also doing: build a planned recreation area for its dogs. That takes money. Here's how, and why, to help.

http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/lifestyles/17434971-423/more-sunny-days-ahead.html


Oncology nurse also head cheerleader

To Joanna Hume, oncology nursing is not a career. It's her life's calling, one she lives inside and outside of the hospital.

http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/lifestyles/17383684-423/oncology-nurse-also-head-cheerleader.html


Bringing music to the masses

Phyllis Sterling recently retired as church organist after sixty-five years of consistent and dedicated service. She leaves behind a string of exquisite musical memories that touched multiple aspects of multiple lives.

http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/lifestyles/17348314-423/bringing-music-to-the-masses.html














 

Very Funny Joke - Vampire Joke

Song #1 Romantic Piano and Flute - "A Dream Within A Dream" by James Onohan

Guest Post by Sir Frederick Chook: "The Public's Peacocks, Part Two"

The Public’s Peacocks, Part Two, by sir Frederick Chook
Penned upon the 23rd of July, 2010
First appeared in FrillyShirt (www.frillyshirt.org)

 

Today’s Public Peacock is the Presidential Model – a fop who rose so high, his rank had to rush to keep up with him. He changed the face of American politics like no head of state since Lincoln, and he did it his way, from his pince-nez to his riding-boots. He was a man of legendary tenacity, physical resolve and derring-do, and as such, his name is now synonymous with adorable, huggable children’s toys. I speak of Theodore Roosevelt, statesman, scholar and adventurer.

Though he became the twenty-sixth President of the United States largely by accident, Roosevelt’s importance in the history of the American left can hardly be overstated. Early twentieth-century progressivism was a beast of many eccentricities, idiosyncrasies and abortive experiments, of course, but the lasting achievements of his political career include the foundation of the national parks system, the regulation of production and distribution of food and medicine, the breaking of business monopolies, protection for vulnerable workers, and the strongest showing of any third party in American political history.

Roosevelt’s brand of progressivism was a system of state paternalism, achieved through national power and personal bluster – a philosophy quite unalike Wilde’s idealistic libertarianism. He was also known for his feats of physical might – leading cavalry charges without even the luxury of a horse to ride; mapping uncharted stretches of the tributaries of the Amazon; experiencing an assassination attempt without letting it interrupt his daily public duties – and it should be noted that he survived that event by the ingenious method of blocking the gunman’s bullets with his body. He was, in short, a man’s man’s man; the sort of man that man’s men aspire to be.

He was also a raging fop. He was already known as an exquisite dude on his entry into the New York State Assembly in his early twenties; a tight-trousered fashion plate, all stripes and hair oil. His style got more butch as his political ambition grew, but he always retained a taste for the dramatic, a certain strength of detail, and, of course, his signature pince-nez. Whatever his station, TR could find something smart to wear. His spell as a Dakota rancher, he illustrated with an elaborate country suit, bedecked top to toe with tassels and furs. When the Spanish-American War broke out and he felt it was his patriotic duty to be on the front lines, his cobbled-together uniform, with slouch hat and enormous cavalry gloves, became a personal and national icon.

His style grew more sombre and his trousers more voluminous as he advanced in age, but the precise cut of his cloth is immaterial so long as that cut was decidedly his. His life, like his wardrobe, was styled exactly to suit him, and such was his personal influence that his followers in office are still wearing his political hand-me-downs. He expanded the power of the presidency, giving his successors in the executive greater scope to remake the world in their own image. Not always for the better, natch – the one way to ensure moral objections to everything one does is to go into politics.

In short, even if one questions the legitimacy of the power he wielded, he did a lot of good with it, with great style and panache of his own making. He was a kind of pre-war Batman, in short – and given that he was actually Police Commissioner at one point, the facetious comparison looks more likely the more I examine it. In any case, he is one we can look at and say, “Yes, this fop, this grandiose clotheshorse, changed the world.”

A postscript of sorts: you may wonder whether Roosevelt at any time combined his interests and addressed the question of dress reform. I have read some of his letters and diaries, and while they contain some highly endearing descriptions of kittens and ponies, I do not recall any particular discussion of dress – I would be happy to have my attention drawn to any, of course.

For some national leaders who did opine upon clothing, I might point to the leaders of the Indian Independence Movement. Many had their own distinct style; the socialist Prime Minister Nehru gave his name to the style of coat he favoured. Muhammad Ali Jinnah wore a particular style of loose-fitting, high-waisted three-piece suit, often with a large, bold necktie. Mohandas Gandhi himself is iconic for his traditional wraps, though he wore very English three-piece suits during his early days in law. Their styles come together in the movement’s anti-colonial action including a call for Indians to reject mandatory importation and to produce their own clothes; to take up looms and weave, and wear what Indians had woven, and so help restore their livelihood. The act of producing cloth was thus accredited both practical and spiritual importance – a lesson any good fop would do well to remember as they dress.

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Sir Frederick Chook is a foppish, transcendentalistic historian who lives variously by his wits, hand to mouth, la vie bohème, and in Melbourne with his wife, Lady Tanah Merah.

When not reading Milton and eating Stilton, he writes, ponders, models, delves into dusty archives, and gads about town. He has dabbled in student radio and in national politics, and is presently studying the ways of the shirt-sleeved archivist. He is a longhair, aspiring to one day be a greybeard. He has, once or twice, been described as “as mad as a bicycle.”

FrillyShirt is a compilation of articles, essays, reviews, photographs, artworks, question-and-answers, promotions, travelogues, diatribes, spirit journeys, cartoons, ululations and celebrations by Sir Frederick, his friends and contributing readers. Irregularly regular features include Teacup in a Storm, an etiquette column, and How to be Lovely, advanced speculations on the aesthetics of the self.

Other topics that pop up include fun things in and around Melbourne, art, nature, history, politics and schnauzers. Sir Frederick’s favorite color is all of them. Enjoy his writing? Drop him a telegram at fredchook@frillyshirt.org.

 

 

 

 

In the Spirit of Harold Masters: Two Great Quotes

While catching up with an online prayer group, I read two quotes this morning that really inspired me. They felt like God's Christmas present to me on the day our family is celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ, and I'd like to share them with you, the reader, a present from me to you.

Christ is born! Let us glorify Him!


Everything you desire should be yours: the type of work you want; the relationships you need; the social, mental, and aesthetic stimulation that will make you happy and fulfilled; the money you require for the lifestyle that is appropriate to you; and any requirement that you may (or may not) have for achievement or service to others. If you don't aim for it, you'll never get it at all. To aim for it requires that you know what you want. Richard Koch


Take up one idea. May that one idea your life. Think of it. Dream of it. Live on the idea. Let the brain, muscles, nerves, every part of your body, be full of that idea, and just leave every other idea alone. This is the way to success. Swami Vivekananda