Sly foxes, guineas, and good neighbors

I love the saying about not sending the fox to guard the henhouse. There seems to be a lot of that going on, although that has been true, always. The idiom about the sly fox and the hens goes back at least to the late 1500s.

Guineas roosting at Los Poblanos,
in the North Valley of Albuquerque

Our dear neighbor in Texas, Jake Goodson, had laying hens. And as much as he tried to have a flock of guineas (technically called a “confusion”, the term for a bunch of guineas), he had little to no success. I think guineas are pretty, and I love the way they scatter and chatter when a vehicle pulls into the yard, that is, if they run loose in yard, like they do in so many country places. Some would say that guineas behave like a bunch of idiots. In an attempt to protect his guineas, Jake would put them in a “secure” coop at night, which turned out not to be so secure. Varmints dug under the bottom of the pen, and so the story goes.

Jake was a friend and in some ways like an older brother to us all though the 1980s until our mother’s death in 2007. About that time Jake started having memory challenges, which ultimately took him to Alzheimer’s care a few years ago. Jake, whose Christian name was James Henry Goodson, went to his own reward a few weeks ago. Thoughts of him, his guineas, the fox in the henhouse, and so much more, are precious. Rest in Peace James Henry Goodson (October 5, 1929-January 13, 2019).

Thoughts on a cold-blooded snake

I guess I've heard the expression “mean as a snake” all my life, although I honestly can’t remember anyone in particular using it. Maybe it was in the works of southern writers, like Faulkner. He liked saying things like, “Them that’s going, get in the g**damn wagon, them that ain’t, get out of the g**damn way.”  (spoken by Boon Hogganbeck in "The Bear”).

Cottonmouth, Agkistrodon piscivorus is a venomous snake,
a species of pit viper, found in the southeastern United States. 

I imagine some would have described Boon as mean as a snake. I’m trying to “hear” in my mind’s eye the expression being used by my daddy or mother or grandmothers. They were all brought up as Texan southerners in the early part of the 20th century. Both of my grandfathers had died before I was born in 1943. In searching the Internet for an explanation of the origin of this expression, I haven’t found anything that satisfies my need to know. Other adjectives applied to snakes include cold-blooded (which they are), low-lying (which they are), slithering (which they do). Cold to the touch. I don’t care to handle snakes, although they don’t “make my skin crawl”. Now rats, that’s another story. You dirty rat! Snakes do eat rats. I call that justice.

Roots

I missed the last family reunion with these folks. The trip to Nazareth was just too far, and I’ve gotten old and lost interest in traveling long distances. In truth, I was never really close to this branch of my family.

Photo from jesus story dot net

My roots are European—a thorough mix of cultures. And then throw in the whole matter of being born from a line of people, some of whom sailed from England to settle in the Virginia Colony in the middle 1600s, making their way to North Carolina, then Alabama, and finally to east Texas over a 200-year period. Others who followed the route of the French Acadians through Nova Scotia and down to Louisiana. And yet others who sailed to Galveston to settle around Houston, Texas, just before and right at the close of the American Civil War that redefined our great land, paving the way for further greatness. I haven’t lost sight of that one teacher who grew up in Nazareth, however. He taught us so much, and is still teaching. The problem, though, so many who claim to be his followers are mis-using his words, indeed ignoring his words. They have departed from his ways.

*>My DNA statistics from ancestry dot com<*

New Mexico colcha embroidery

The tradition of colcha embroidery developed in northern New Mexico as early as the late 1500s. Although it's applications was practical in the early days, such as embellishment on bed covers (colcha is Spanish for blanket), the revival of colcha in the 1930s has resulted in its practice as an art form. Frances Varos Graves, from Arroyo Seco, New Mexico, and later Carson (NM), is considered a pioneer in the revival of colcha art.

The pieces by Graves pictured here are examples of one of her favorite subjects, the Catholic Saints: St. Joseph tending sheep. Mary, traditionally referred to as “Our Lady of the Roses,” is depicted, along with animals, birds, morning glories and other flowers.

La Lomita Chapel, Mission TX, 1899

A simple, beautiful celebration of human devotion.

Photos: courtesy of Texas Historical Commission

Truth or dare

Someone sent me one of those forwarded pieces, which, of course, ends by challenging the reader to forward the same piece. A test of some sort: conservative vs. liberal, black or white, sense of humor or lack, Christian or no (God forbid). Others with a similar neurotic and pointless purpose make their rounds on a regular basis. Some of these are actually rather harmless. Stats from sources like Forbes and the Washington Post indicate that most people who forward do so without even reading (certainly without reading thoroughly) what they’re forwarding. They just catch the key words that cause them to pump their fists in righteousness. Oh, that sense of righteousness, Hallelujah! One of the biggest faults with a lot of the information that travels this way on social media is that the information is non-information. It’s false, or faulty, or twisted. It’s not something I want to put my name on. It doesn’t take much effort to use the Internet for one of its greatest strengths: research. We’re cautioned to not take everything we see on the Internet at face value. At the same time, it’s fairly simple to find plenty of supporting evidence for the verity or lack of truth and accuracy for any information making its way around. The creator gave us a brain, hopefully to use for the betterment of this universe we inhabit. It’s such a waste not to use it for good. Forward this if you agree, I dare you. OMG, no, don’t forward this. I’m just blowing off steam. Or am I.

Photos from our friends at Wikipedia.

As a child, when we visited kin in Pt. Arthur, TX, for reasons I don't recall we had occasion to cross the Orange Bridge, as it was called back then. My place during these crossings was hiding in the back floorboard of our family's 1949 two-door Chevy Coupe. What many have described as the scariest bridge in Texas--I think it remains the tallest bridge in Texas--allows State Highway 87 and State Highway 73 to connect Port Arthur in Jefferson County on the southwest bank of the Neches River with Bridge City in Orange County on the northeast bank. The bridge, completed on September 8, 1938, is a through truss bridge, just upstream from Sabine Lake. It received its official name, Rainbow Bridge, in 1957 and was listed in the National Register of Historic Places in 1996.

Acadian Louisiana brown cotton homespun blanket

Blankets typically comprised of two-panels sewn together.

Louisiana brown cotton homespun, woven in lengths which are cut and sewn together to make blankets and floor coverings. The Acadian presence in Louisiana dates to around 1764. Known as Cajuns in southwest Louisiana, they are descendants of the French colonizers who settled an area of far northeastern North America—Quebec, Nova Scotia, and parts of present-day Maine. Like all rural folk of the pre-industrialized world, they practiced crafts and arts that sustained daily life, and in some instances, have become important reflections of a period of history, valued by those who document material culture and those who collect. The textiles produced by Louisiana Acadians, generally termed Louisiana homespun, are mostly woven from a brown cotton that was very popular because it already had a natural color and didn’t require dyeing. This “coton jaune” probably originated in Mexico, and in south Louisiana the seed was handed down from one generation to another for planting each year. Today, very little brown cotton is grown, although it is experiencing a resurgence.

Look for the light

Rainbow over Shiprock NM, earthsky dot org

The Holiday Edition of Vanity Fair magazine has a special section featuring photographs by Annie Leibovitz, titled The Vanity Fair 2018 Hall of Fame. Included are photographs of Stephanie Gregory Clifford (known to most of us as Stormy Daniels) and Hannah Gadsby, an Australian comedian. The photographs of Clifford and Gadsby, along with those of the others featured, are accompanied by a brief comment, written by someone of note. Gadsby is openly lesbian and refers to her sexuality in her stand-up routines. She also recounts experiences, which cannot be described by any other word than “brutality”, she had as an adolescent and young woman, primarily because of her sexuality. Monica Lewinsky, who wrote the comments for Gadsby's photograph, and whose name is in no way obscure to most of us, quoted Gadsby: "There is nothing stronger than a broken woman who has rebuilt herself.” Hear! hear!

We can do better.

“...and it is love that will echo through eternity.” (spoken by nurse Jenny Lee in the BBC period drama "Call the Midwife,"although it has been spoken by countless others throughout time).

Navajo cross, turn of the 20th century

Pueblo double-barred, or dragonfly, cross, turn of the 20th century

So this needs to be said, again and again. If the book of moral imperatives—the Christian faith calls this the Holy Bible—and the church whose doors we frequent teaches anything other than the truth that we are here on this earth for one reason—to care for and look after one another, blood kin or other—then we need to give a closer look at the book and at the church.

These photos arrived in the mail several months ago, from an old friend from the days that we taught at the McKinney (TX) Job Corps Center for Women in the early 1970s. They were taken on a weekend visit (probably summer/fall 1973) to the Hollis place near Normangee (Leon County) TX. The barn developed into my home in 1999. Virginia Perez took the 1970s photos. I took the photo of the west end of the barn--the room with the wood stove I called it--in 2009.

That's Russell Hollis, my dad, wearing a summer straw. 

John Calkin, scratching his head, no doubt amused or bemused by something.

The young guy must be James Warneke, my nephew, who's going on 10.

Me, dancing a jig, for no good reason, I'm sure.

Shirtless John Calkin fiddling with the gate that leads to the ground storage area.

Looks like Daddy is pointing to the sky, I'm lost in my thoughts, and Marisela  takes it all in.

A view of the the west end of the barn, with a room I added in 2002, after I had converted much of the barn to a  home.

I turned six around the time the Sears at 4000 North Shepherd in Houston opened in September of 1949. I have lots of memories of being at Sears, even into adulthood, ranging from buying clothes for school, shopping for Christmas presents, a Sears Kemtone brand record player, and admiring the Cub Scout and Boy Scout paraphernalia (even though I never became a scout). As a teenage with a drivers license, I made at least a few trips taking our Craftsman lawn mower to be repaired. Looking online for something about the status of the Sears at 4000 North Shepherd, I came across a recent story in The Leader, a local paper serving The Heights:Garden Oaks:Oak Forest:North Houston. There I read about the experience of someone named Jeff, where he has essentially taken the words right out of my mouth. "When I was five or six, or maybe a little earlier, I remember stopping to get a drink from a water fountain near the entry door,” said Jeff Kirk. “It was the first time I saw a sign designating a water fountain for ‘White’ and ‘Colored’ people.” (End of an Era? October 24, 2018, by Betsy Denson) The black and white image in my mind goes a little farther. I think my middle sister was with Mother and me. What’s not clear is if I went to drink from the Colored fountain and was stopped by Mother, or if I asked why there was a Colored fountain and received a slight yank of my hand and told to “Hush!” Probably one led to the other. My questioning of how things are began fairly young, as I recall. Photo: arch-ive dot org