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"There were three ladies in the room and one gentleman. Before I had been standing at the window five minutes, they somehow conveyed to me that they were all toadies and humbugs, but that each of them pretended not to know that the others were toadies and humbugs, because the admission that he or she did know it, would have made him or her out to be a toady and a humbug."

--Great Expectations, p. 88-89

I wonder exactly what was running through Dickens' mind while he wrote these words. It surely was fun to read them aloud this morning!

Alvin Fernald likes to sit while we read, dictionary in hand. Here are his findings:

toady--a truckler to the rich and powerful.

(--truckler--to yield obsequiously to the will of another)

((--obsequiously--devoted; fawning.))

humbug--one who deceives or misleads; an impostor.

So, what I found out was that I really *did* know what a toady was--someone who ingratiates themselves to someone who's *somebody*. I've used the phrase "toady up" to someone many times; I've just never used it as a noun.

Now, of course, we use much cruder words to express the same thought. Several years ago, it was "brown-nose-ing;" now, the term of choice is "s*cking up."

Both of those modern terms are disgusting in their origins. Maybe "toadying" or "truckling" were???

Somehow I think not. The dictionary indicated their origins were allusions from other known activities--"truckle" referred to rolling a trundle bed under a big bed, usually the apprentice's bed under the "master's" bed.

So, I could go on and on about the Devolution of our Language (and culture, and...it *is* one of my soapboxes...) but instead, I think I'll make sure I throw "Toady" into every conversation I can, to replace that "other" term that is so, so common.

So, if you need a New Word to use, I have one for you:

Toady on up to someone today, and let them know you're doing it ;)

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Here is a quote from Laddie, by Gene Stratton-Porter:

"Schoolhouses are made wrong. If they must be, they should be built in a woods pasture beside a stream, where you could wade, swim, and be comfortable in summer, and slide and skate in winter. The windows should be cut to the floor, and stand wide open, so the birds and butterflies could pass through. You ought to learn your geography by climbing a hill, walking through a valley, wading creeks, making islands in them, and promontories, capes and peninsulas along the bank. ou should do your arithmetic sitting under trees adding hickorynuts, subtracting walnuts, mulitplying butternuts, and dividing hazelnuts. You could use apples for fractions, and tin cups for liquid measure. You could spell everything in sight and this would teach you the words that are really used in the world. Every single one of us could spell incompatibility, but I never heard Father, or the judge, or even the Bishop, put it in a speech." --Little Sister , p. 267

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Sometimes I have a great deal more fun homeschooling, than the children seem to have Doing It. Maybe it's because, once you get out of school, all of the learning you do is because of the Love of Learning thing.

I read on somebody's blog last week that it was -35 degrees where they were.  Celsius, even. I could not even imagine how cold that would be in Fahrenheit degrees. So, this morning, I called my darlin' Don Quixote for the formula to convert one to the other. Now, this is the boy I used to brag to everyone about, how he could multiply two three-digit numbers in his head. One day he asked me Why do you always tell people that? Then he said, "can't everybody do that?" Um, not in *my* world, honey.

So, it may not surprise you that, when I woke him out of a sound sleep to ask him, he said, "Well, Mom, to convert from Fahrenheit to Celsius, it's F minus 32 times 5 divided by 9. From Celsius to Fahrenheit, it's C times 9/5 plus 32. So, we tried it with today's temp. of 42F. That turned into 5.5C. Then we did my blog-friend's -35: -37C.

Wow. I called Don back: "is this possible?" "Oh, yeah, Mom, that's right." (what I actually said was, "we tried it with today's high of 42F," and he interjected, "well, that would be five and a half C." I'm proud to say *I* carried that boy under my heart for nine months!) "And, oh, by the way, Mom, C and F are the same at minus 40. You can do it algebraically, the equation is 9/5x plus 32 = x. By the way, thanks for waking me up. I'll always wake up for Math."

The answer to the equation is, of course, minus 40.

Now, this is not to say that I never learned that fact; and, of course, I did, at one time, or several times, learned the conversion equation. But it was JUST SO DARN MUCH FUN today, I had to share.

Thanks for reading.

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Wow. So who knew I could find common ground with an evolutionist?

I found this article by Bill Nye the Science Guy entitled, "Do we really only use 10 percent of our brains?" Now, I thought that the argument given by Jay Wile in Apologia's General Science was good. I didn't even realize that the "10%" theory really came into vogue in the 1930's, when experiments were done removing small portions of rat and rabbit brains. The animals could still function, so they jumped to the conclusion that we don't need all of our brains to function, either.

In the article, Bill Nye has almost the same argument, word-for-word. So, if you've never heard it, take the time to read the article.

The best thing about the article by Mr. Nye is that it is Logical. We who believe in a creator God know that He wouldn't create anything superfluous, even if *we* can't find a reason for it. Some things we can't understand (for instance, I don't really see the "beauty" in, say, a cockroach), but, hey, if God liked it enough to make it, who am I to say it isn't Worthy?

So. I realize that there are many scientists out there who subscribe to the theory of Evolution. Can't agree with them, of course. It just makes so much more sense (AND, much easier to believe) in the Creation scenario. I've been told I *can't* be a scientist and believe in Creation...too bad, I am, and I do. (Oh, well, getting off the subject...)

So, good for you, Bill Nye the Science Guy. I'm praying that if you don't know the Lord, that He will reveal Himself to you, again, today. And *that* would split your "science world" wide open.

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"Linda laughed suddenly. When Linda laughed, which was very seldom, those within hearing turned to look at her. Hers was not a laugh that can be achieved. There were a few high places on the peak of Linda's soul, and on one of them homed a small flock of notes of rapture; notes as sweet as the voice of the white-banded mocking-bird of Argentina."

--Her Father's Daughter by Gene Stratton-Porter, p.2

Well, except for the fact that I have never heard the "white-banded mocking-bird of Argentina," I can imagine the sound of Linda's laugh. Aren't those exquisite words?

If you have never read Gene Stratton-Porter, you are missing a great treat. I link here to a short biography; I encourage you to read it.

I live an hour north of her home in the (former) Limberlost Swamp, and an hour or less south of her Sylvan Lake home, where there is a museum. I took a field trip once to the site of the Limberlost--the whole notion of "draining a swamp" is a mystery to me. There is little evidence left of it; towns and roads stand there now. When natural gas was discovered there, it was so plentiful that they *gave it away* for several years. This abundance gave Gas City its name; I have a picture of the sign in front of the city hall: City of Gas City City Hall.(hee hee)Another fascinating fact: people throw around the fact that Mrs. Porter was a "nature photographer." What they don't realize is that, when she climbed a tree to photograph a subject, not only did she have to change plates with every picture, but that her camera set-up weighed about 100 pounds. Think about that the next time you pull out your 3 x 3 inch digital camera and take twenty pictures of your nature walk!

Several of Mrs. Porter's novels are set in the swamp; Freckles, Girl of the Limberlost, Laddie.  Others are set in her adopted state of California; The Keeper of the Bees, and the one I am currently reading, Her Father's Daughter. I'm only twenty pages into it, but it has an interesting topic presented; Linda taunts a senior Big Man on Campus, saying, "If I were you, I would never let a *Jap* get ahead of me in the class; a white boy should never do that." Hmmm. We'll see where that goes. Growing up as I did in the 50's and 60's, I was well aware of the struggle for civil rights for black people. I was surprised to find out (while watching Gentlemen's Agreement on the Morning Movie one day in middle school when I was home sick) that there was such a thing as anti-Semitism. In U.S. History I learned about the interment of Japanese-Americans in WWII; this book will give me a little better clue of feelings post-WWI.

Anyway, what I *wanted* to tell you about Gene Stratton-Porter, if you've never read her, is that her novels are chock-full of nature references. The story lines don't exist, except in the little spaces Between the flora and fauna. They are a delight to read. The language is so beautiful as well; see the quote above for an example.

The only exception to this I've found so far is The White Flag. The entire time I was reading it, I was waiting for the animals and plants to appear, and they never did. I wonder what inspired her to write that story?

I have a personal Gene Stratton-Porter story. I live three houses down from a home Mrs. Porter bought for her daughter Jeannette. One day, my neighbor (in her tiny upstairs apartment) called me and said she had company coming--missionaries from England who ministered in Africa. Would I mind hosting a dinner? You betcha-I made an American turkey/gravy/pumpkin pie dinner. The wife missionary mentioned that her favorite author growing up was American--Gene Stratton-Porter, and she just devoured everything she could get her hands on, and read her books many times. We took a little walk after dinner, and my neighbor who now owns the house gave us a tour, and many tid-bits of Gene-lore. It was a really neat evening, first learning about African culture from the missionaries, and the *dessert* was learning more about one of my favorite authors, as well.

So may I heartily recommend the novels of Gene Stratton-Porter? You will be richer for reading them!

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Don't you just love it when you "fall into" something good? I was looking through the "classic" DVD section at the library, and happened upon this. It is an anthology of  five of O. Henry's short stories on film.

Blackeyed Susan and Alvin Fernald generally thumb their noses at black-and-white films. I think it's like my brothers and I used to do about Old Radio Shows. One summer, a local radio station was playing Lone Ranger and The Shadow episodes on Tuesday nights. My father *made* us sit with him to listen. And in the DARK, too--Daddy said that that was the only way to listen to The Shadow.

I must admit, I developed a love for old radio dramas that summer. The same thing is happening, the *more* I *make* my kids watch old movies.

W-e-e-l-l. I didn't hear Word One about the black-and-whiteness of this video. But they were enchanted with the short-story length, and five different stories in one film. The only exposure they have had to O. Henry is when I read Gift of the Magi at Christmastime. (it is the last story on this video, and I heard "hey, wait a minute--this is that story about...")

So, on a lark, we now have a hunger for more of O. Henry. I have a volume of short stories, with the subtitle: A world where wonders never cease. A world where surprises never end.

Hey. That describes how Susan and Alvin now feel about black-and-white movies....

Now. Which one to read this morning?

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I was reading a blog entry by Mother Auma earlier this week, where she tallies what she has been able to accomplish so far this school term. Then she bemoans the fact that Shakespeare and Plutarch didn't happen. But they *Did*:

experience classical music

experience fine art

experience excellent literature

nature study

instrumental and vocal music done by themselves

memory work

and more, besides. This is the privilege we have as homeschoolers, to bring the wealth of ages past and present to ourselves and our children.

I finished school in the early '70's, when the "beginnings" of reduction in school funding began to wear away at "incidentals" like music, art, and P.E. Now, of course, there are many public school districts that don't have "time" or "money" for such "extras." My son is a public-school elementary teacher, and rarely has time even to read a story to his class.

My daughter Violet has noticed that even at the liberal arts college she attended, the focus is changing to more math and science/computer classes. Many colleges are pushing the fact that they can "prepare you for the working world." Necessary, yes, but there have been "tech" schools for a long time. Violet: Have we entirely lost the notion of the value of a well-rounded education? Is no one interested in educating the *Person,* or all we all only robots to be programmed?

Incrementally, our children are being raised more and more without culture. Those things that give us polish, that make us  Richer (that is, our Selves, not our money...)

When the first Renaissance had its beginnings in Italy, all of the great Art was in the churches. If you wanted to see great Art, you had to go there. I belong to a group that is praying for the excellence in art, music, literature, and other areas, that it will come anew from the Church. That the world will know that if it wants to find excellence, that it comes from those who know that we have a Creator that put inside of us, creative yearnings.

So, today I'm thanking the Lord that we can expose our children to as much culture as we (or they) would like. Our lives can be so, so rich. And then, let us pray that our children will go on to produce things of excellence for the next generation, and in doing so, give glory to the One who created it all.

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I was doing some blog-hopping, clicking on other people's links, so I don't really know how I got here. But this post reminded me of my own childhood, learning how to bake from my mother.

She, too, taught me that you could scoop sugar from the canister right into the measuring cup, and, in the case of brown sugar, you needed to pack it down tightly. But flour was different: you must spoon the flour into the measuring cup carefully, then even it off with the flat side of a butter knife.

Now, Whoever decided that each ingredient should be measured differently?

Unlike my sister-blogger at Everyday Graces, I was not a Natural Cook until just a few years ago. I always had to measure exactly, and really admired people who could "throw something together." Maybe it's my Literal Self, I don't know. I've only made bread a few times, but with success, so I guess I did the measuring correctly.

I love the point she made, comparing this measuring of flour to our daily life. The act of spooning the flour, giving it "air", leaving "space" that it needs, instead of "packing" the flour that would occur by scooping the cupful, is a wonderful picture. Scooping is hurried; spooning is deliberate.

My husband noticed a problem with me a long time ago. I would "schedule" my day to the full, even if it was just with home-duties. Then, if one activity took longer than my schedule, I was behind the rest of the day. And week. And so on.

My darling husband taught me to schedule about 80% of my time, so that if something takes longer than I think, or interruptions occur, it doesn't throw off my whole day (his nice way of saying Put Me Over The Edge).

I never read the book about  Margins that was popular in the '90's. But I heard it referred to several times in sermons and Sunday school lessons. Imagine a page in a book, covered edge to edge and top to bottom with printed words. We would get so tired trying to read such a book! The margins give both boundaries to the words, and a place for our eyes to rest. It's a Good Thing, as Martha would say.

I read somewhere, years ago, that recipes are now written to accommodate just scooping out flour into the cup measure, that you no longer have to spoon it carefully into the cup before levelling off. Isn't that like our Fast-Food lives? Just hurry up and get to the next thing.

Hmmm. I will have to spend some time thinking about what this means for our schoolday, as well. I spend a lot of time saying Hurry Up and Finish. Maybe I need to try Spoon it In and Level it Off. We'd probably get a nicer "loaf" of learning that way.

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This morning we awoke to a rousing thunderstorm, and torrential rain. How glad I was that my children did not have to stand out in the rain to wait for a schoolbus! I had planned a 7am wake-up call, but (since Violet was here) we made it 8. Cocoa made it cozy as we sat around under quilts.

Daughter Violet arrived from out of town Sunday evening about 10 p.m. She was just in town for business, and needed to return early this afternoon. So we did extended coffee-time. Lily and the children came over to see Aunt Violet, and so there was NO WAY the things I had planned to do were gonna happen. Learning *did* happen--always when we have a large-group dynamic, the conversation turns from here to there and then somewhere else. But more formal learning will have to resume tomorrow.

Now, I know that one of the advantages of homeschooling is taking advantage of such family spontaneous fun-ness. However, for me, an all-or-nothing kind of person, this *failure* on the first day could be construed (by me, and no one else) as I Am A Dismal Loser. Fortunately, Charming was home today to Talk Me Down From The Ledge, and point out the positive side to our schedule change. We talked about things that we never thought of before; the World Book was brought out, theories presented, arguments made. Nothing was settled, but we had lots of Food for Thought.

There. It doesn't sound so bad on paper, does it? I made a lovely roast chicken dinner for us and Forget-me-not, Rocky and Blueberry. Then Rocky cut Charming's hair. We had Rice Krispie treats for dessert, and Forget-me-not and I played a game of Scrabble before they went home. Now we are winding down to a reasonable bedtime, and it looks like another thunderstorm is upon us. So at least the end of the day looks exactly like My Plan.

Maybe that bodes well for tomorrow....

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I'm home this Sunday morning with Blueberry, whose parents are on a retreat. I could have taken him to church, but a HUGE thunderstorm began about six a.m. I made the decision to have a quiet morning with my darlin' grandson. Blackeyed Susan is the only other one at home, so she will go to church with Johnny Tremain and Lily.

So, anyway, I was catching up a little on some back blog-reading, and came across our Random Blogger, netherfieldmom, and one of her posts really spoke to me. You can find it here.

Even though I have been homeschooling for years and years (and can give some pretty good advice, if asked), that relaxed/know what I'm doing/Life-as-School thing doesn't magically appear everyday at my house. My own school experience was really good--textbooks, tests, and all. I ended up knowing a lot of things, most of which I remember some 34 years after leaving high school. So much for *not learning* in a *factory* setting. (for those of you who are maybe new to the homeschooling gig, *School* has been compared to a factory, where prescribed info has been added to your child with every school year, ensuring that every *product* coming out at the end of 12th grade has all of the *components* needed to function in the world.) So I fight not having "school at home."

Now my last two children are in grades 9 and 7. I've tried to use Living Books, and it's okay if we do family read-alouds, but both of them would rather clean the bathroom than read for fun. (I don't know where I got these alien children...)

I could panic because of the "holes" in their education--like Civics (how the government works)--never did that. But the post I have linked to points out that we all have holes in our education (e.g. Bill Gates, Steven Spielberg, Julius Caesar...) In fact, one of the most exciting things about homeschooling for me, is that many of those "holes" have been filled in. For instance, Henry VIII--I could never remember what century he belonged in. Through homeschooling, I learned that he was born in 1493 (a year after the Columbus thing). Since I already knew he took the throne as a young adult, that puts him early in the 1500's. I will never forget that again.

So, why should I worry about "holes?" As long as I do what I originally intended, to teach them how to learn, and to show from example the love of learning, somehow we will make it through the eye-rolling years.

We had actually planned to send Blackeyed Susan to public school this year. She asked to stay home, and through the summer we have come to that conclusion, as well. Re-visiting the worldly focus of even the best high-school education outweighs the "high school experience" that my first six enjoyed so much, and that they argued for, for Susan. Now I'm worried that the workload and independent study that she will do will be overwhelming. But, hey--she'd have to do that work in a structured setting anyway. The ball is in *her* court, not mine.

One other point I would like to share, that was touched on by netherfield mom. As homeschoolers, we have to arrange all of our Extras: sports, lessons, field trips. We would love for our children to learn Latin and Greek, AND French and Spanish. Art Appreciation, Music Appreciation, play piano and violin, etc. I know a family that is deeply involved in Homeschool Speech and Debate. They are part of our church's homeschooling group. One year at Night to Recite, I saw several of their children give wonderful speeches. Quickly I thought, "oh, I'd love my children to have that experience!" But that mother pointed out that her children were not able to do instrumental music, although she would have loved them to--Time just wasn't there to do it.

Another friend had her children in various  things: Spanish co-op, little league baseball and football, ballet, choir, judo, horseback riding, etc. etc. She complained that she was always in the car, and didn't have time for just-family-at-home stuff she desired. Hello--six and eight-year olds were defining *her* schedule. And guess what--they probably won't do any of those things as a profession.

Oh, yes. I wanted my children to have all of those enrichment experiences. I know I wanted them as a child. But I am a huge proponent of Unstructured Time, so that will never happen for us. I heard a good way to determine those extra things. A five-year old can be in one activity, a ten-year-old in two, and a fifteen-year-old in three.

I have found time as an adult to explore the things I *really* wanted--quilting, knitting, reading. There is no reason to think that my children will not follow their desires in this area. God is a Creative person, and He made us to be Creative, as well.

So now, as I am in the throes of actually planning our year, I remember the reasons we began homeschooling in the first place--to teach our children how to think, to raise them with a Christian worldview ("in the nurture and admonition of the Lord"), to keep them more attached to the family than to a group of peers, and to teach them the virtues *we* want to instill. That will make them Ready to Face the World.

Until the 1990's, there was still a car company in the town where we lived, where each car was made by hand, one at a time. This is the  kind of "factory" in which we form our children--all one-of-a-kind, unique, and precious to the Lord. Hand sanded, waxed, and buffed. Each screw and gear hand-placed, lovingly. For you would have to love your work, to work in a place like that.

Homeschooling with love--it's a Happy Place.

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"I know thy hats are good hats," [Grandmother] said. "And if thee has set thy price at three dollars, there is no more to say."

And after Isaac had been out to take a look at the pig, and had agreed to accept the little porker as payment, together with two-and-a-half bushels of turnips, he proceeded to measure Benjie for the hat.

..."I am glad to furnish thee a hat, Benjie, if thee appreciates it and takes care of it," answered Grandmother. "Thee knows that the little pig would some day have provided me with meat for nigh a whole winter. Two-and-a-half bushels of turnips would also have lasted me a long time. So thee understands that thy hat is an expensive hat."

"My!" exclaimed Benjie. "I should say so!"

--Benjie's Hat by Mabel Leigh Hunt

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One of my favorite Economics lessons:

[Almanzo and his friend are at the Independence Day celebration in town. His friend's father gave him a nickel for lemonade, and challenged Almanzo to ask his father for a nickel as well. Almanzo's father takes a silver half-dollar out of his pocket]:

"Do you know what half a dollar is?" Almanzo didn't know it was anything but half a dollar.

"It's work, son," Father said. "That's what it is...You know how to raise potatoes, Almanzo?"..."Say you have a seed potato in the spring. What do you do with it?"

"You cut it up," Almanzo said. "Then you harrow--first you manure the field, and plow it. Then you harrow, and mark the ground. And plant the potatoes, and plow them, and hoe them. You plow and hoe them twice...then you dig them and put them down cellar."

"Yes.[said Father] Then you pick them over all winter; you throw out all the little ones and the rotten ones. Come spring, you load them up and haul them here to Malone, and you sell them. And if you get a good price son, how much do you get to show for all that work? How much do you get for half a bushel of potatoes?"

"Half a dollar," Almanzo said.

"Yes," said Father. "That's what is in this half-dollar, Almanzo. The work that raised half a bushel of potatoes is in it."

[Father gives Almanzo the half-dollar, telling him he could buy a sucking pig with it, that will have  a litter of pigs he could later sell for four or five dollars apiece. OR he could drink it up in lemonade. Almanzo chooses the former.]

--Farmer Boy by Laura Ingalls Wilder

What a beautiful introduction to the economics of work. If only we could teach our children (heck, if only *I* could get this picture) truly in our heads. I think, though, that because so many of us trade hours of work for a paycheck, we really lose track of what our time is actually worth. Kind of like we really can't imagine how many taxes we pay, because we have money withheld every week that we never see. Then we do our taxes and say we're getting a refund or "paying" so-and-so amount of tax, when really it is so-and-so amount Over and Above all the thousands that were withheld.

We still have a lot to learn, don't we?

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The Headmistress over at the Common Room had a couple of posts that gave food for thought this week: here:heartkeepercommonroom.blogspot.com/2007/06/and-while-were-on-this-topic.html and here: heartkeepercommonroom.blogspot.com/2007/06/books-and-bad-mommy-moment.html  These were posts about "dumbed down" books that are written for children, assuming that children of a certain age will only have a so-and-so number of words in their vocabulary. These books don't go beyond that, and so children are never exposed to reading words that they might have heard used in conversation, and therefore are not "growing" their vocabulary.

Maybe that is why I so enjoy books written for children written long ago. They seem to meet my own *criteria* for Good Children's Books: that a good children's book must be interesting to adults, as well. A book I read in about an hour yesterday has a paragraph that is a perfect example of what I am talking about:

"Benjie found a cap a great relief after wearing Grandfather's ponderous hat. On crisp mornings it could be pulled down over his ears. When he played at rough games with the other boys it was never in the way. It could even be jerked off, rolled up and stuffed in his pocket. It could be worn at a jaunty angle when he was feeling jaunty himself. Somehow it matched a fellow's whistling. And when he was feeling extra skittish, it could be flung high up in the air and caught dexterously as it fell. There was no doubt that a cap was the right kind of headgear for a boy to wear to school."

--Benjie's Hat by Mabel Leigh Hunt 1938, pp. 54-55.

What child couldn't get the meanings of "ponderous," "jaunty," "skittish," and "dexterously," from the context? The things that pass for children's books today seem so anorexic by comparison.

I read Beatrix Potter to my one- and two-year olds at bedtime. There were a number of words they did not know (there were some *I* didn't know, either!) but we never failed to follow the story-line. The tiniest children loved the cadence of my voice--I always read them the same way--and I would find them quoting me: "Why, Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle was nothing but a Hedgehog!!"

I think I just might read Benjie's Hat as an evening read-aloud. It will be a trip to another time (1857) and a different lifestyle (Quaker) that will make a fun summer "escape."

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(we loosely follow the public-school calendar. PS's last day of the year was yesterday.)

Countdown to 2:40 pm by Blackeyed Susan:

Three. Two. One.

I'm in High School!!!

Congratulations to Susan and my new seventh-grader, Alvin Fernald.

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"The Americn [editorial] cartoonist labels every object in the frame. It is not enough to use a donkey and an elephant: you also have to helpfully label them DEMOCRATS  and GOP, just in case someone hasn't had the idea explained to him yet. If you draw George W. Bush, you still have to write BUSH somewhere on his person...

"The British have a subtlety that puts stateside cartoonists to shame. There is, today, a cartoon in one paper depicting William Hague as the Pope; he is being pinned down by a meteorite. First, the cartoonist is assuming that you will recognize an unlabeled William Hague, and that you will recognize the reference to his current agonies at the polls. And then, most astonishingly, [that you will recognize the art piece depicting the Pope being crushed by a meteorite crashing through a cathedral ceiling.]

"You cannot do this in America. There are only four works of art that American editorial cartoonists can refer to:  the Mona Lisa, Whistler's Mother, Washington Crossing the Delaware, and American Gothic. If you work for a highbrow paper, [daughter Violet!] you might get away with Nighthawks. Sculpture is limited to the Statue of Liberty, Mount Rushmore, and the Thinker. But that's it: nothing else from the last century is allowed, and certainly not anything from last week."

--Sixpence House--Lost in a Town of Books, by Paul Collins, pp. 157-8.

When I read the part about American Gothic, I roared with laughter. I have seen that image depicting George W. Bush, (appropriately labeled BUSH, of course!), Bill and Hillary Clinton, Alan Greenspan, Osama bin Laden, etc. etc. etc.! The author just might be correct--I don't recall other "art" images used in cartoons.

Isn't. That. Sad.

I have written here before about the collective "poetry knowledge" of the early twentieth century--that certain poetry was learned by the entire culture. Watch an old movie--these people recite entire poems, and the person with whom they share it already knows it, too. Anne Shirley and her Lady of Shallot? She was not some freak who loved poetry--she was just a schoolgirl like every other.

I have also written before about how we *do* have a Collective Movie Knowledge:

"Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."

"Go ahead, Make My Day."

"As heaven is my witness, I will never go hungry again!"

Do you need any of these explained to you? I didn't think so. But no matter how much of this is part of our collective consciousness, it really pales next to poetry and paintings, as well as classical music (or the standards, I like them, too!) and books.

We have a marvelous opportunity as homeschooling parents, to share things of real value with our children. Certainly "family movie night" is a wonderful thing, but "family art museum day" would be terrific. As well as "family go-to-the-orchestra night." Our symphony has a fantastic deal--one children's ticket free for every adult ticket purchased.

Think about it. Think about knowing more about art than four or five works caricatured in editorial cartoons. Knowing Beethoven's Fifth Symphony as more than a bank commercial (there are not one, but two commercials running right now using a parody of Beethoven's Fifth). Let's not let Art or Music be sound-bited into obscurity with our children.

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I was really going to post this yesterday, but I was getting ready for my sister's visit! She hasn't been "home" in 13 months. I met her at the airport, and she followed me to her hotel. We ate dinner at the Cracker Barrel "right next door," and then went back to her room to chat. I thought I would go home about nine...then, ten...finally, at 11:39, with my voice *gone*, I said goodnight. We still have loads of talking to do, though...

Yesterday morning, Charming and I greeted the children with the standard, "Listen my children, and you shall hear/of the midnight ride of Paul Revere/On the eighteenth of April in '75/hardly a man is now alive/who remembers that famous day and year."

We talked it over, and decided the wording was outdated. I wanted to change it to "hardly a tortoise is now alive," referring to the Great One who died last year. (see http://thescotsman.scotsman.com/index.cfm?id=457742006">here . But, alas, he is dead, too. We ended up with the words, "hardly a *tree* is now alive." We talked about the Council Oak where we used to live, where an Indian treaty was signed in the early nineteenth century, and the Constitution Elm in southern Indiana, also about the same age. I have always thought it funny that the oldest living things on earth should be of the plant kingdom instead of animal. But then, trees are quiet things, aren't they? Living their lives just watching history go by. (Oh, now I'm thinking of The Giving Tree...gotta get that one out again.)

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We are having a bit of fun here with Aesop. Several years ago, I bought Aesop for Children with illustrations by Milo Winter (1919--my edition was a 1993 reprint by Barnes and  Noble), and D'Aulaire's Greek Myths. I bought them for our study of Ancient Greece and Rome, but the time didn't seem right to read them. I was convinced, however, that they are a part of a well-rounded education. During these winter days when it is difficult to even roll out of bed, I decided that the time was right. For the last few days, I have read to Alvin Fernald and Blackeyed Susan over cups of hot chocolate, first thing.

Being two or three years older is an advantage when reading Aesop. The children have more personal experiences on which to draw, as we discuss "the moral to the story." I thought perhaps they would think that the animals in the stories were "babyish," but no mention of that, either.

Then to mythology. I explained that mythology is the attempt to explain natural phenomena by inventing supernatural beings. Think of the sun god, driving his chariot across the sky from east to west everyday, then going home to sleep at night.

An interesting point came up yesterday. (thank you, Daddy, for always having a question to ponder...) Adam knew God, and told his children about Him. Certainly the Greeks and Romans were descended from Noah and sons, who also knew the true and living God. At some point, these descendents turned away from the true God to worship idols of their own making.

We know this is also true of the Israelites. How quickly, once Moses went up the mountain, did they melt all that gold to make a cow. I always felt rather disdainful of them--I mean, they knew that Moses was going up to meet God and to get the Law and all that. What was their problem?

Of course, if you get right down to it, and really face facts, we are the same way. For most of us, it takes about a day or so to "turn away" from God to any other idol that comes our way. Television comes to mind--one nickname is the "one-eyed god." Our schedules, for our husbands, their jobs, homeschooling...can all of a sudden be the most important thing in our lives.

The Bible talks about idolatry among even the followers of Christ--how quickly we are called away to "another gospel." If you really think about it, Idolatry is a very ugly word.

I am looking forward to more interesting discussions with the children, as we move through the gods and goddesses who, even if immortal and powerful, had all of the "bad" traits of humans, too. How much better to serve a God who is above us in all things--who is not a respecter of persons, who doesn't hold back forgiveness for even a minute, who is always willing to help us in our journey to "be conformed to the image of His Son."

What desperately wicked things we must be, to trade our wonderful Creator for something made by human hands. Lord, help me to see when I am doing just that.

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I so, so love the fall. The leaves, the cool weather, the spicy smells, just everything. Except Hallowe'en.

Now, I grew up going trick-or-treating. I have the requisite photo of me at four years old (1959) in a "princess" costume, with my three-year old brother beside me in a sheet with two holes cut out for eyes. Later, I used a "gypsy" costume that both my older sisters had used. Trick-or-treating was safe, and ghosts and witches were fun-scary, not like today where they look demonic. (just look at "vintage" images on the internet.)

By the time I had children, Charming and I decided not to celebrate Hallowe'en in any manner. As Christians, there was a small movement afoot to guard our children from anything occult. A famous Christian comedian who had been a practicing warlock before he was converted, said that he had gotten interested in witchcraft by watching "Bewitched." Years later he recanted that story. But it remained that Hallowe'en is a high "holy"-day (if you will)in the occult world.

When my children were little, we had to literally hide in the basement, if we were home, to keep people from knocking on the door. One year, I decided to pass out little tracts with candy. Next morning, my sidewalk was littered with just about the same number of tracts as I had passed out. Back to the basement.

Finally, city government got smart, and asked you to turn on your porch light only if you had treats. We still got knocks on the door, if they heard us inside, but, oh, well, too bad--no candy here. "We don't celebrate Hallowe'en."

Then there are the Alternative Celebrations. We've been to Hallelujah parties and Harvest Parties (held, of course, on October 31, like that is The Day Of The Harvest). Frankly, I was a little less impressed by them than I was with my own Hallowe'en experiences. As a Catholic growing up, we knew that trick-or-treating was followed the next day by a REAL holyday--All Saints' Day.

Please don't think I am judging anyone who might celebrate the day in any way, traditionally or alternatively.  This is just a decision my husband and I made for "our" family.

I really wanted to tell you about something that makes me very sad about Hallowe'en in our town. I am again hearing radio ads about "The Haunted Castle--our 27th year--the Original and Best." You may have one of these in your town--we have the haunted castle, as well as the Haunted Cave and Haunted this-and-that(we have several others).

The Haunted Castle, however, is housed in the church I grew up in. It was built in 1904, and held about three hundred people. My parish was on the outskirts of the city, midst farmland all around. It is the oldest parish in town, except for the downtown parish. It started out as a mission church in 1854.

They built a new churh in 1967, because the little church was too small. They were already having five Masses every Sunday. I think they actually condemned the little church at one point.

Now, urban sprawl has made this area of town the fastest growing. Another new church was built five years ago--there are 3700 FAMILIES in the parish. And every Hallowe'en season, the Haunted Castle hosts about 100,000 visitors to see ghoulies and ghosties and to "roam the haunted cemetery."

Maybe they don't remember that I made my First Communion and Confirmation in that little church. Both of my sisters were married there. My little sister was buried out of that church. That church (and accompanying school) was where I learned my Catechism. Where the knowledge of God and Who I Am in the Universe that I had learned  at my mother's knee, was formalized and solidified.

I asked my Mother once why they would do such a thing in a church building. She said that it was a Fundraiser--that they had made $200,000 the very first year, and had been able to build a Boy Scout Lodge.

It makes me very sad to drive by that building, even in the "off season." I try to avoid the intersection altogether in October. Of course, it "is" just a building made by men's hands, and the "Church" is the people, in whose hearts Jesus resides, but still...

Maybe I'm wrong. But it certainly makes a touchpoint, at this time of year, for me to examine my own Temple. Am I using the Temple of my body as a fundraiser for my own desires? Am I putting it to Holy use, or Worldly use?

Time to clean house, friends. Get the Bats out of my Belfry. Remember that I am a Sanctified Vessel, meet for the Master's use.

Ouch. It's always Ouch.

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This year, my son Alvin Fernald is doing something new. Our homeschool group is having a Future Cities team. Read about that here. There are three parts to the competition: using a SimCity game to create a computer model, making an actual physical model, and a paper on your Future City. Last year, the first year for our team, they placed fourth in the city, and, as our Mom-moderator said, "I didn't even know what I was doing!" This year looks promising.

Now, Alvin is only beginning sixth grade, and the competition is for 7th and 8th graders. But he is a "helper," and will gain experience. None of my other children has ever done anything "engineer-y" like this, so Alvin didn't know what to expect. Last week, at the second meeting, the children were assigned different aspects of Life In A Future City to look up, and bring the info "back to the table" today.

Alvin chose Cold Fusion. I really didn't think much about it; we have the Vast Internet to use to gain useful information. The moderator suggested one of the "how things work" websites, so the language wouldn't be too technical.

I found that I could follow the text, although the cross-sections of nuclear reactors were a little daunting. But I got the gist of it: Fission (what we do now, in a reactor) is bombarding atoms so they split, causing energy to be produced. FUSION is encouraging protons, who naturally repel each other, to get together in a mind-meld and fuse. This also produces great amounts of energy, but without the radioactive waste issue. Problem? Fusion takes place at millions of degrees--this is how the Sun produces energy. "Cold Fusion" has been conquered in the laboratory, and takes place at room temperature. Two hydrogen atoms fuse to form a helium atom. See actual high-school science experiments doing this here.

Okay. So I printed out the pages, to try to help Alvin understand how it works. Several problems were apparent: one, Alvin has never studied chemistry. Our science so far has been natural science--plants and animals, and a little physical science--rocks, weather, electricity. The only physics we have done is simple machines. Chemistry--hasn't come up. Do you know how hard it is to quickie-teach someone about atoms?

I likened the nucleus of an atom with the nucleus of a cell, tho' we haven't done that since the beginning of fourth grade. Sub-atomic particles with like charges repelling each other? Check--we've done magnets. The chemical reactions that take place inside a reactor? Well, honey, you're going to have to take my word for it. (I thought about showing him

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