On the Tenth Day of Christmas, Claremont, England, 1836

From Princess Victoria’s journal, Claremont, December 24, 1836:

“Very soon after dinner Mamma sent for us into the gallery, where all the things were arranged on different tables. From my dear Mamma I received a beautiful massive gold buckle in the shape of two serpents; a lovely little delicate gold chain with turquoise clasp; a lovely coloured sketch of dearest Aunt Louise by Partridge copied from the picture he brought and so like her; 3 bautiful drawings my Munn, one lovely seaview by Peser and one cattle piece by Cooper (all coloured), 3 prints, a book called Finden’s Tableau, Heath’s Picturesque Annual, Ireland; both these are very pretty; Friendship’s Offering and the English Annual for 1837, the Holy Land illustrated beautifully, two handkerchiefs, a very pretty black satin apron trimmed with red velvet, and two almanacks. From dear Uncle Leopold, a beautiful turquoise ring,; from the Queen a fine piece of Indian gold tissue, and from Sir J. Conroy a print. I gave my dear Lehzen a green morocco jewel case, and the Picturesque Annual; Mamma gave her a shawl, a pair of turquoise earrings, an annual, and handkerchief. I then took Mamma to the Library where my humble table was arranged; I gave her a bracelt made of my hair, and the Keepsake , and Oriental Annual. I stayed up til eleven!”

Victoria was seventeen years old when she wrote this entry in her journal. The next year, 1837, when she was eighteen years old, she became Queen Victoria, Sovereign of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland.

Today’s Gifts:
A song: Be Still My Soul, music by Jean Sibelius.

A birthday: Finnish composer Jean Sibelius, b.1865.

A poem: Jest ‘Fore Christmas by Eugene Field.

The Dancing Pancake by Eileen Spinelli

Dec8

I like it when a book wins me over to a genre or style of book that I had not been accustomed to enjoying before. The Dancing Pancake is a verse novel, and although I still don’t understand why books are written in this particular style or what the line is between poetry that tells a story and prose that sings a song, I did enjoy reading the story of a girl named Bindi and her broken, struggling, loving family and a restaurant called The Dancing Pancake.

I liked reading about Bindi’s struggle to overcome selfishness and to forgive. She didn’t really seem much different in her difficulties from adults who deal with the same issues. For example, here’s Bindi remembering her absent father while she’s trying to read The Yearling:

“I start to cry.
Again.
I guess I’m not
as finished with sad
as I thought.
I wish I was still
just mad.”

Or Bindi trying to reconcile with a friend whose feeling she hurt and at the same time still working out her own feeling toward her dad:

“Ruby Frances pours
more syrup on her plate.
‘That so?’ she says.
I take another breath.
‘Well, actually, there’s more,’
I say. ‘Since God forgives us
for all the stupid,
thoughtless, mean things
we do and say,
We should forgive others.’
I give her a long sideways look.
Is she listening?
‘Right?’ I say.
Ruby Frances just chomps away.
I plunge on: ‘If God never
forgave anyone, Heaven would be empty.
Right?'”

The Dancing Pancake was a lovely story of separation and forgiveness and reconciliation. Bindi’s anger and sense of betrayal over her parents’ marital problems is real and not too lightly resolved, and Bindi makes some mistakes of her own, getting caught up in her unhappiness and ignoring the problems of her family and friends. However, the tone never gets too heavy, and the story remains appropriate for third through seventh graders throughout. And Bindi deserves the cake that she gets at the end of the book that reads “Bravo to our Bindi!”

This book would make a useful bibliotherapy title, but it would also resonate with any child who deals with forgiving imperfect family members and friends or who finds things to forgive in herself. And don’t we all struggle to forgive others and ourselves?

On the Ninth Day of Christmas, New Mexico, 1850’s

Dec7

From Willa Cather’s Death Comes for the Archbishop:

Father Vaillant had been absent in Arizona since midsummer, and it was now December. Bishop Latour had been going through one of those periods of coldness and doubt which, from his boyhood, had occasionally settled down upon his spirit and meade him feel an alien, wherever he was. He attended to his correspondence, went on his rounds among the parish priests, held services at missions that were without pastors, superintended the building of the addition to the Sisters’ school: but his heart was not in these things.

One night about three weeks before Christmas he was lying in his bed, unable to sleep, with the sense of failure clutching at his heart. His prayers were empty words and brought him no refreshment. His soul had become a barren field. He had nothing within himself to give his priests or his people. His works seemed superficial, a house built upon the sands. His great diocese was still a heathen country. The Indians travelled their old road of fear and darkness, battling with evil omens and ancient shadows. The Mexicans were children who played with their religion.

The novel goes on to tell how Bishop Latour is renewed in his faith by the faith of an old peasant woman, Sada. We all need renewed vision sometimes. If the above description applies to you this Christmas season, take heart. I believe Christ will meet you in the middle of a Christmas drought if you keep your eyes open and your ears tuned to His voice.

Today’s Gifts:
A song: Come Thou Long-Expected Jesus at Mocha with Linda.

A booklist: Read aloud Christmas titles from the library at Hope Is the Word.

A birthday: Willa Cather, American novelist, b.1873.

A poem: The Oxen by Thomas Hardy

Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock.
“Now they are all on their knees,”
An elder said as we sat in a flock
By the embers in hearthside ease.

We pictured the meek mild creatures where
They dwelt in their strawy pen,
Nor did it occur to one of us there
To doubt they were kneeling then.

So fair a fancy few would weave
In these years! Yet, I feel,
If someone said on Christmas Eve,
“Come; see the oxen kneel

In the lonely barton by yonder coomb
Our childhood used to know,”
I should go with him in the gloom,
Hoping it might be so.

On the Eighth Day of Christmas, Myra, Lycia (Turkey), c.300.

Dec6

St, Nicholas Day.

“The giver of every good and perfect gift has called upon us to mimic his giving, by grace, through faith, and this not of ourselves.” ~Nicholas of Myra, c.288-354 AD.

Today’s gifts:
A song: Santa Claus Is Coming to Town

A booklist: Mother Reader’s 105 Ways to Give a Book

A birthday: Joyce Kilmer, b.1886.

A poem: The Fourth Shepherd by Joyce Kilmer.

On the Seventh Day of Christmas, Nashville, TN, 1828

Dec5

From the biography, American Lion: Andrew Jackson in the White House by Jon Meacham:

Shortly after nine on the evening of Monday, December 22, three days before Christmas, Rachel [Jackson] suffered an apparent heart attack. It was over. Still, Jackson kept vigil, her flesh turning cold to his touch as he stroked her forehead. With his most awesome responsibilities and burdens at hand she left him. ‘My mind is so disturbed . . . that I can scarcely write, in short my dear friend my heart is nearly broke,’ Jackson told his confidant John Coffee after Rachel’s death.

At one o’clock on Christmas Eve afternoon, by order of the mayor, Nashville’s church bells began ringing in tribute to Rachel, who was to be buried in her garden in the shadow of the Hermitage. The weather had been wet, and the dirt in the garden was soft; the rain made the gravediggers’ task a touch easier as they worked. After a Presbyterian funeral service led by Rachel’s minister, Jackson walked the one hundred fifty paces back to the house. Devastated but determined, he then spoke to the mourners. ‘I am now the President elect of the United States, and in a short time must take my way to the metropolis of my country; and, if it had been God’s will, I would have been grateful for the privilege of taking her to my post of honor and seating her by my side; but Providence knew what was best for her.'”

Today’s Gifts
A song: In the Bleak Midwinter, lyrics by Christian Rossetti, music by Gustav Holst.

A booklist: Biographies of the U.S. Presidents (books I’m planning to read)

A birthday: Christina Rossetti, b.1830.
Walt Disney, b. 1901.

A poem: Love Came Down at Christmas by Christina Rossetti.

Sunday Salon: The Amen! Praise the Lord! Edition

Dec5

The lame walk. Wow! HT: Lars Walker at Brandywine Books.

Here, both the data about world health and prosperity and the way it’s presented are fascinating. You’ll just have to take my word for it and watch to understand what I’m talking about:

I really like this idea: Journibles.

The idea for this comes from Deuteronomy 17:18, where God commands the kings of Israel to hand-write their own copy of the Torah, or book of the law. The purpose of this was so that they would carry it with them always, read it, learn from it, and lead the people accordingly. It’s interesting to note that 3400 years later, educators have been discovering that most people learn kinesthetically, by doing or writing things out for themselves.

As you open the book, you will see chapter and verse numbers on the right-hand pages. These are conveniently spaced according to the length of each verse. However, these pre-formatted lines are left blank for you to hand-write your Journibleâ„¢ book of yourself.

In fact, I think I’m going to ask for one of these, maybe the book of John, for Christmas.

On the Sixth Day of Christmas, New York City, 197-

Dec4

Madeleine L’Engle is one of my favorite writers. Her memoir, The Irrational Season, includes a chapter about Christmas in which Madeleine tells the story of one Christmas in her family in which a close relative died and yet Christmas came and the Word was flesh and dwelt among us.

“The chapel is small, and in this smallness, holding Charlotte in my arms, with Lena leaning against me, I began to move into Christmas. The Sisters sang Solemn Vespers for Christmas Eve, and their high, clear voices, moving antiphonally back and forth across the chapel, contained for me the same reality I felt in the strong words of the Kaddish. Then we all gathered around the creche, the children on tiptoe to see the shepherds, the animals, Mary and Joseph and the infant in the crib, the helpless thing containing the brilliance of the galaxies and the shadow of the cross.

It was impossible, but for the moment I was the White Queen, and the loving and beautiful bodies of my grandaughters made it possible for me to believe: they have not been created to be discarded like dross; the baby lying between the ox and the ass affirms the ultimate value of all life.”

This is the irrational season
When love blooms bright and wild.
had Mary been filled with reason
There’d have been no room for the child.

Today’s Gifts
A song: “I understand Christmas as I understand Bach’s Sleepers Awake or Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring. . . When I am able to pray with the mind in the heart, I am joyfully able to affirm the irrationality of Christmas.” ~Madeleine L’Engle

A booklist: A Madeleine L’Engle Annotated Bibliography

A birthday: Rainer Maria Rilke, poet, b.1875.

A poem: Sunset by Rainer Maria Rilke.

Saturday Review of Books: December 4, 2010

Dec3

“Friday afternoons were library days and rarely did Maggie Rose miss one. Here was time and place for discovery and satisfaction. Every shelf held such a load of expectation and promise that at times she was well-nigh staggered by it. She devoured books as a hungry robin gulps down angleworms. They fed her and she came back always hungry for more.”~Maggie Rose: Her Birthday Christmas by Ruth Sawyer

If you’re not familiar with and linking to and perusing the Saturday Review of Books here at Semicolon, you’re missing out. Hereâ€™s how it usually works. Find a review on your blog posted sometime during the previous week of a book you were reading or a book youâ€™ve read. The review doesnâ€™t have to be a formal sort of thing. You can just write your thoughts on a particular book, a few ideas inspired by reading the book, your evaluation, quotations, whatever.

Then on Saturday, you post a link here at Semicolon in Mr. Linky to the specific post where youâ€™ve written your book review. Donâ€™t link to your main blog page because this kind of link makes it hard to find the book review, especially when people drop in later after youâ€™ve added new content to your blog. In parentheses after your name, add the title of the book youâ€™re reviewing. This addition will help people to find the reviews theyâ€™re most interested in reading.

After linking to your own reviews, you can spend as long as you want reading the reviews of other bloggers for the week and adding to your wishlist of books to read. That’s how my own TBR list has become completely unmanageable and the reason I can’t join any reading challenges. I have my own personal challenge that never ends.

1. the Ink Slinger (The Life of Dr. John Donne)
2. the Ink Slinger (War of the Worldviews)
3. My Friend Amy (The Sparrow)
4. The Friendly Book Nook (Grace)
5. Amy @ Hope Is the Word (Ruby Valentine Saves the Day)
6. Florinda @ The 3 R’s Blog (Emily of Deep Valley)
7. Amy @ Hope Is the Word (Jan Brett Christmas stories & a giveaway!)
8. Amy @ Hope Is the Word (Understood Betsy)
9. Amy @ Hope Is the Word (Christmas booklink roundup)
10. SuziQoregon @ Whimpulsive (Lonesome Dove)
11. Wayside Sacraments (The Slopes of War)
12. Wayside Sacraments (Breath, Eyes, Memory)
13. Wayside Sacraments (November Reading Wrap Up)
14. Carol in Oregon (PD James)
15. Carol in Oregon (Literary References)
16. Collateral Bloggage (First Christmas)
17. Everything I Never Wanted toBe
18. Nightingale
19. Melody @ Fingers & Prose (A Girl From Yamhill)
20. Barbara H. (Two Agatha Christie novels)
21. FleurFisher (The Boy Next Door)
22. FleurFisher (Madame Verona & The End of the Alphabet)
23. FleurFisher (Joanna Godden)
24. Beckie @ By The Book (A Rush of Wings)
25. Beckie @ By The Book (Finding The Light of Jesus)
26. Janet (The Story of the Other Wise Man)

27. Janet (Knowing Christ Today)
28. DebD (Ysabel)
29. Lucybird’s Book Blog (The Big Over Easy)
30. Lucybird’s Book Blog (Norwegian Wood)
31. Lucybird’s Book Blog (Star Gazing)
32. Lucybird’s Book Blog (The Memory Keeper’s Daughter)
33. Lucybird’s Book Blog (Things I Want my Daughters to Know)
34. Alice@Supratentorial (Bury Your Dead)
35. Alice@Supratentorial (Advent Picture Books)
36. Judy @ Seize the Book Blog (God Loves Single Moms)
37. Judy @ Seize the Book Blog (Nightingale)
38. Disney Fairies Graphic Novels #1 & 2
39. Nicola (The Gift by Carol Ann Duffy)
40. Nicola (Smile by Raina Telegemeier)
41. Nicola (It’s Not About the Pumpkin! by Veronika Martenova Charles)
42. Nicola (Late, Late at Night by Rick Springfield)
43. Nicola (Trail of Blood by Lisa Black)
44. The Circle Series Graphic Novel by Ted Dekker
45. Nicola (Hope for Hard Times by Scott Hahn)
46. Nicola (Lucy Unstrung by Carole Lazar)
47. Margaret @ BooksPlease (Curtain: Poirot’s Last Case)
48. S. Krishna (The Debutante)
49. S. Krishna (Love is a Mix Tape)
50. S. Krishna (The Gendarme)
51. S. Krishna (The Sherlockian)
52. S. Krishna (American Wife)

53. S. Krishna (Beautiful Malice)
54. S. Krishna (The Accidental Billionaires)
55. A Library is a Hospital for the Mind (Recommended Reading for the Holidays)
56. Diary of an Eccentric (Pemberley Ranch)
57. Diary of an Eccentric (Falling Home)
58. SmallWorld Reads (Abide with Me)
59. Discovering Liz (The Holiness of God)
60. Discovering Liz (A TIme to Dance)
61. Melissa @ The Betty and Boo Chronicles (Early Stories of Louisa May Alcott)
62. Melissa @ The Betty and Boo Chronicles (Too Much Happiness)
63. Cindy Swanson (Breathe by Lisa T. Bergren)
64. Lucybird’s Book Blog (Kafka on the Shore)
65. Lazygal (The Anagomy of Ghosts)
66. Lazygal (Soul Catcher)
67. melydia (The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society)
68. Colleen (I KNOW I AM BUT WHAT ARE YOu?)
69. PBurt (Origin by Abu-Jaber)
70. PBurt (Man in the Woods by Spencer)
71. Embejo (Tall Man: The Death of Doomadgee)
72. Selena (The Sherlockian)
73. Carina @ Reading Through Life (The Lonely Polygamist)
74. Carina @ Reading Through Life (Libertad)
75. Gina @ Bookscount (Galveston)
76. Gina @ Bookscount (Fall of Giants)
77. Gina @ Bookscount (Bleak House)

You are all invited back to Semicolon daily from Monday November 29, 2010 through January 6, 2011, where I’m celebrating the 38 Days of Christmas. (I can have as many as I want, can’t I?) I’ll be posting a new literary quotation celebration each day with links to a poem, a birthday, a song, and a book (list or review) every day, too. I hope you’ll enjoy my Christmas gift to you.

On the Fifth Day of Christmas, Chalmette, New Orleans, 1909

Dec3

O’Henry‘s most famous Christmas story is, of course, The Gift of the Magi, about young newlyweds who give each other sacrificial Christmas gifts. In Whistling Dick’s Christmas Stocking, a tramp named Whistling Dick rescues a family from a group of thieves on Christmas Eve. The story first appeared in the collection, Roads of Destiny, published in 1909.

A distant clatter in the rear quickly developed into the swift beat of horses’ hoofs, and Whistling Dick stepped aside into the dew-wet grass to clear the track. Turning his head, he saw approaching a fine team of stylish grays drawing a double surrey. A stout man with a white moustache occupied the front seat, giving all his attention to the rigid lines in his hands. Behind him sat a placid, middle-aged lady and a brilliant-looking girl hardly arrived at young ladyhood. The lap-robe had slipped partly from the knees of the gentleman driving, and Whistling Dick saw two stout canvas bags between his feet–bags such as, while loafing in cities, he had seen warily transferred between express waggons and bank doors. The remaining space in the vehicle was filled with parcels of various sizes and shapes.

As the surrey swept even with the sidetracked tramp, the bright-eyed girl, seized by some merry, madcap impulse, leaned out toward him with a sweet, dazzling smile, and cried, “Mer-ry Christ-mas!” in a shrill, plaintive treble.

Such a thing had not often happened to Whistling Dick, and he felt handicapped in devising the correct response. But lacking time for reflection, he let his instinct decide, and snatching off his battered derby, he rapidly extended it at arm’s length, and drew it back with a continuous motion, and shouted a loud, but ceremonious, “Ah, there!” after the flying surrey.

Today’s Gifts
A song: Moon River, music by Henry Mancini. Ok, it’s not a Christmas song, but it’s vintage Andy Williams. Enjoy.A booklist: The many short stories of William Sydney Porter, O’Henry.
A birthday: Andy Williams, b.1930. We always used to watch Andy Williams’ Christmas special on TV, back in the day.
Nicholaus von Amsdorf, German reformation theologian, b.1483. I only recognize this name because Eldest Daughter has been studying Herr Nicholaus von Amsdorf this past semester. Merry Christmas to all theologians and medieval scholars.
Joseph Conrad, b.1857.
A poem: Moon River by Johnny Mercer.

Moon River, wider than a mile,
I’m crossing you in style some day.
Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker,
wherever you’re going I’m going your way.

Two drifters off to see the world.
There’s such a lot of world to see.
We’re after the same rainbow’s end–
waiting ’round the bend,
my huckleberry friend,
Moon River and me.

On the Fourth Day of Christmas, Tottenham Court Road, London, 1892

Dec2

From The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, a Sherlock Holmes mystery story:

The facts are these: about four o’clock on Christmas morning, Peterson, who, as you know, is a very honest fellow, was returning from some small jollification and was making his way homeward down Tottenham Court Road. In front of him he saw, in the gaslight, a tallish man, walking with a slight stagger, and carrying a white goose slung over his shoulder. As he reached the corner of Goodge Street, a row broke out between this stranger and a little knot of roughs. One of the latter knocked off the man’s hat, on which he raised his stick to defend himself and, swinging it over his head, smashed the shop window behind him. Peterson had rushed forward to protect the stranger from his assailants; but the man, shocked at having broken the window, and seeing an official-looking person in uniform rushing towards him, dropped his goose, took to his heels, and vanished amid the labyrinth of small streets which lie at the back of Tottenham Court Road. The roughs had also fled at the appearance of Peterson, so that he was left in possession of the field of battle, and also of the spoils of victory in the shape of this battered hat and a most unimpeachable Christmas goose.”

Today’s Gifts
A song: One of my favorite songs by one of my favorite singers, Karen Carpenter singing I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.
A booklist: Gift books for what they want to be when they grow up.
A birthday: David Macaulay, b.1946.
A poem: Christmas Bells by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. The entire poem has seven stanzas or verses.