I have some things to say, here on my own little piece of internet turf:
Teaching that sex outside of marriage between one woman and one man is immoral is traditional Christian teaching. It is Biblical, longstanding, and faithful Jesus’ teaching and to the Christian understanding of human flourishing. (Not to mention to the teaching of most other religions for the past six thousand years.)
Teaching that sexual expression outside of marriage is sin is not equivalent to denying one’s sexuality. The fact that we are sexual beings does not mean that we are compelled or allowed to express that sexuality in any and every way we want. In fact, sexuality is a gift with boundaries. And Christians believe that God asks us, for our own good, to have sex only within those boundaries.
If I say that those boundaries include no rape, no pornography, no homosexuality, no bestiality, no adultery, no prostitution, no fornication (sex before marriage), and no pedophilia, that does not mean that I am saying that fornication is the same as bestiality.
Nor does it mean that I am equating the people that engage in any of these sins or the people who are victims of those who engage in these sins with animals.
Nor am I “sin-leveling”: I recognize that some of these sins are more damaging to humans than others. Nevertheless, all are sin.
This teaching of “sexual purity” (if you want to call it that) does not lead directly or indirectly to murder.
Giving men and women strategies to use to redirect their thoughts away from sexual temptation does not lead directly or indirectly to murder either.
Jesus said, “I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lust for her has already committed adultery with her in his heart.” He is telling men not to look at a woman with lust: the desire and intent to dehumanize and use that woman to satisfy his own sexual desires. Telling men not to look at pornography and not to look at actual human beings with lust, to look away when temptation comes, is not disrespectful to women, it is not blaming those women for his temptation, and it is not bad advice.
If a man or a woman does blame other people for his or her own temptations and sin, that person is engaging in an age-old attempt to justify his or her own sin. Adam blamed Eve, and Eve blamed the serpent. But God holds each of us responsible for our own actions.
There is hope for any person who believes he has a “sexual addiction”, and that hope is found in the forgiveness and redemption provided by Jesus Christ. Fall on His grace and then choose to follow Him daily, hourly, in obedience and love for other people who are all His creation, made in His image, not to be used or regarded as sexual objects.
There is also hope for those who are the victims of sexual abuse and objectification. Jesus has compassion for the suffering that any of us endure at the hands of others, and He offers rest for the weary and victimized and forgiveness for any sin which separates us from the perfection that God demands.
I am reading MacDonald’s quite strange and wonder filled book, Phantastes. In chapter eight, Anodos, a young man travelling in Fairyland, takes on a shadow-self that follows and eventually surrounds him, killing any light and any beauty that comes near. And after some travel in the company of the shadow, Anodos writes:
“But the most dreadful thing of all was that I now began to feel something like satisfaction in the presence of the shadow. I began to be rather vain of my attendant, saying to myself, ‘In a land like this, with so many illusions everywhere, I need his aid to disenchant the things around me. He does away with all appearances, and shows me things in their true color and form. And I am not one to be fooled with the vanities of the common crowd. I will not see beauty where there is none. I will dare to behold things as they are. And if I live in a waste instead of a paradise, I will live knowing where I live.'”
Phantastes by George MacDonald, p.78
Just like C.S. Lewis’s dwarfs in The Last Battle, Anodos is no longer to be fooled by the illusions of beauty and magic and fairy dust. Anodos believes that the darkness of the shadow is showing him reality, but darkness can’t “show” anything. One can only truly see when one is in the light, not the shadow.
Unfortunately, I know at least one young man whose name could be Anodos, a name that means “lost” or “pathless.” I am praying that he comes to see the enchanted and beautiful paradise where he actually could be living instead of trusting the disenchantments of the Shadow.
I just finished reading Prairie Fires: The American Dreams of Laura Ingalls Wilder by Caroline Fraser, and although I think the biographer has some underlying assumptions and biases about politics and history that I would not agree with, I still recommend the book. I thought it quite insightful, and it provided background and details that I did not know before about Ms. Wilder’s life.
The book spends as much time on the biography of Laura Ingalls Wilder’s only surviving child, Rose Lane Wilder, as it does on Laura’s life. Perhaps because their lives were so intertwined, the daughter and the mother come across as enmeshed in a somewhat dysfunctional relationship that nevertheless produced several wonderful and classic books. In spite of Rose’s mostly negative influence, Laura Ingalls Wilder’s philosophy of life shines through the books. Garth Williams, the second and most famous illustrator of the Little House books, wrote this about Ms. Wilder after meeting her on her farm in Missouri:
She understood the meaning of hardship and struggle, of joy and work, of shyness and bravery. She was never overcome by drabness or squalor. She never glamorized anything; yet she saw the loveliness in everything.
Prairie Fires, p. 263-264
The same could not be said for her daughter.
In fact, even though I read A Wilder Rose: Rose Wilder Lane, Laura Ingalls Wilder, and their Little Houses by Susan Wittig Albert, a fictionalized account of Laura Ingalls Wilder and her daughter Rose and their somewhat stormy collaboration in writing the Little House books, and I knew that Rose was a difficult person, I didn’t really realize how very unstable she was. Fraser blames Rose’s outbursts and tantrums and trail of broken relationships on childhood trauma and possible mental illness. However, the childhood trauma rationale seems like an excuse rather than a reason. Laura Ingalls Wilder, the mother, endured much more and much worse than Rose ever did, and Laura, while not a perfect person, was certainly more mentally stable and plain likable than Rose ever was.
So, partly because of what I read in this biography, I am considering removing the two books (of three that he wrote) that I have in my library by Roger Lea MacBride, fictionalized sequels to the Little House books about Rose Wilder Lane’s childhood in Missouri. MacBride was Rose Wilder Lane’s protege and heir, and he seems to have been something of a sycophant and a leech. I don’t know that there’s anything wrong with his books, but I also don’t know that they are worth keeping. Perhaps I should pass them on to someone else. I haven’t read the books by MacBride, and since people occasionally ask for them and I got them donated, I added them to the library. But now, I’m wondering. Has anyone here read the MacBride books? Are they well written? Worth keeping?
If a reader wants to be immersed in the world of mid-eighteenth century London, with lexicographer Samuel Johnson, actor David Garrick, painter William Hogarth, Jacobites and Hanoverians, orphans, beggars, spies and even murder, At the Seven Stars would be just as immersive if not quite as wide-ranging as A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens. ( The main character of At the Seven Stars does make a brief, compelled visit to France.) The story begins in 1752 as fifteen year old impoverished and orphaned Richard Larkin, sent to London from the Pennsylvania Colony to live with his uncle who pre-deceases Richard’s arrival, discovers a three year old abandoned child, Abby, who is worse off than he is. And who should come along as unlikely savior but an ugly and monstrous old man, Mr. Johnson, who gives the young child a penny and also deigns to give young Richard some advice: go and apply for work at the Seven Stars, a nearby tavern. The Seven Stars seems to be a good place to work and a good place for little Abby to cosseted and cared for—until Richard inadvertently witnesses a political plot and even worse, a murder. Now where can Richard and Abigail find refuge from the spies and counter-spies and political intrigue that threaten their lives?
Central to the plot of this novel, which I would classify as Young Adult because of the age of the protagonist and because of the aforementioned murder (and subsequent violence and murder, which is described starkly but not gratuitously), is the Elibank Plot of 1752. You can look it up if you want, or just find out about it as you read the novel. The plot is engaging while not as fast-moving as a novel published in the twenty-first century might be. (At the Seven Stars was published in 1963, before the designation of YA became popular, and before attention spans were quite so much attenuated by various factors of modern life.) But the plot was not the most salient feature of the novel. The setting is so well realized that I found myself turning pages not to see what would happen so much as to read new revelations about what life and politics were like in 1752 London.
Recreated in full costume, are the lords and ladies, the street urchins, the men of arts and letters, who peopled the flowering of the Age of Reason. With cloak-and-dagger overtones, a history adventure that is vivid, authentic, and hard to put down.
We have tried to make our historical personages as real as it is possible to make them in every way–in speech, personality, views, action, and in their physical appearance in 1752.
The speech of the characters in this book has been re-created from eighteenth century literature and documents. Samuel Johnson, Hogarth, Garrick and the others, including the London cockney characters, actually would have spoken in the manner and used the words we have given them.
from the book jacket blurb, Foreword, and the Author’s Note at the end of the book
Patricia Beatty was a high school English teacher and author of tow previous books of historical fiction for children at the time of this novel’s publication, and her husband John was a college history and humanities professor, specializing in 17th and 18th century history. The couple combined their knowledge and talents, and their experience of living in London for a couple of years (1959-1960), to produce the verisimilitude and excitement of this spy novel which ends with neither the Jacobites nor the Hanoverians smelling too sweet. According to the depiction in this novel, the Jacobites were a nest of vipers, and the Hanoverians were even worse. A plague on both their houses!
Apparently, Samuel Johnson had Jacobite sympathies. Bonnie Prince Charlie, the hope of the Jacobites, died in Italy in 1788, deserted by his friends and allies and never having gained a throne. And the painter William Hogarth, who died in 1764 before the American Revolution was much more than a dim spark, was a friend and correspondent of none other than Benjamin Franklin. Actor David Garrick was a friend of Johnson’s and of Hogarth’s. Who knew? What side would you have taken in the politics of 1752? Jacobite or Hanoverian? Or well out of that frying pan and into the soon-to-be conflagration of the rebellious colonies?
“You must realize, Fernao, that the ambitions of our expedition are not for one nation alone, but for the benefit of all mankind. The all-important factor, therefore, is not whether any individual nation, such as Portugal, will underwrite it, but which one will have the foresight to do it. Let’s make haste for Spain and see King Carlos.” ~Cartographer Ruy Faleiro, as imagined in the Landmark history book, Ferdinand Magellan: Master Mariner, after the King of Portugal turned down the opportunity to fund the two men in their attempt to circumnavigate the globe.
I wonder if Magellan was truly so patriotic as to wish to give the glory of circumnavigating the globe to his birth nation of Portugal and whether Mr. Faleiro was truly such an internationalist. Whether or no, it turns out that Faleiro did not accompany Magellan on his famous voyage, either because Faleiro’s horoscope warned him of danger and violence or because Mr. F went mad just before the expedition was to set sail. Either way he missed out on the voyage for “the benefit of all mankind”, and Magellan (and Spain) got the glory–and the danger.
I’d like to read some of the books from this list:
Scottish Chiefs by Jane Porter.
The Master of Ballantrae by Robert Louis Stevenson. Set in Scotland during the Jacobite Revolution of 1745 and its aftermath.
Mrs. Tim Gets a Job by D.E. Stevenson.
The Fields of Bannockburn by Donna Fletcher Crow.
Martin Farrell by Janni Howker.
Waverley by Sir Walter Scott. A young English dreamer and soldier, Edward Waverley, is sent to Scotland in 1745, into the heart of the Jacobite uprising.
Rob Roy by Sir Walter Scott. I read about half of this one, but found it hard going.
Valiant Minstrel: The Story of Harry Lauder by Gladys Malvern. Sir Harry Lauder was a vaudeville singer and comedian from Scotland.
Sir Gibbie by George MacDonald.
Highland Rebel by Sally Watson.
The King’s Swift Rider by Mollie Hunter.
Scottish Seas by Douglas M. Jones III.
The Flowers of the Field by Elizabeth Byrd.
In Freedom’s Cause: A Story of Wallace and Bruce by GA Henty.
Meggy MacIntosh: A Highland Girl in the Carolina Colony by Elizabeth Gray Vining.
Mary Queen of Scots and The Murder of Lord Darnley by Alison Weir.
Then, here are some Scottish flavored books I’ve read but not reviewed here at Semicolon. I remember all of these as books I would recommend: Immortal Queen by Elizabeth Byrd. Historical romance about Mary, Queen of Scots.
The Iron Lance by Stephen Lawhead. The 39 Steps by John Buchan. Beside the Bonnie Brier Bush by Ian MacLaren.. A collection of stories of church life in a glen called Drumtochty in Scotland in the 1800’s. Recommended. The Little Minister by J.M. Barrie. I get this one mixed up in my head with The Bonnie Brier Bush because both are set in rural Scotland among church people, and both are good. Also recommended. The Princess and the Goblin by George MacDonald. The Princess and Curdie by George MacDonald. The Queen’s Own Fool by Jane Yolen. Mary, Queen of Scots again.
Recommended by other friends and bloggers: The Tartan Pimpernel by Donald Caskie. Reviewed by Barbara at Stray Thoughts. Robert Burns’ poetry, highlighted at Stray Thoughts. Thistle and Thyme by Sorche Nic Leodhas. I actually have this collection of Scottish folktales in my library. Heather and Broom by Sorche Nic Leodhas. Claymore and Kilt : Tales of Scottish Kings and Castles by Sorche Nic Leodhas. The Scotswoman by Inglis Fletcher. Guns in the Heather by Lockhart Amerman. The Gardener’s Grandchildren by Barbara Willard. Duncan’s War (Crown and Covenant #1) by Douglas Bond. Outlaws of Ravenhurst by M. Imelda Wallace. Quest for a Maid by Frances May Hendry. Little House in the Highlands by Melissa Wiley. Bonnie Dundee by Rosemary Sutcliff. “The beginnings of the Jacobite rebellion when King James fled to Holland.” The Stronghold by Mollie Hunter. The Lothian Run by Mollie Hunter. The Three Hostages by John Buchan. Recommended by Carol at Journey and Destination. Scotland’s Story by H.E. Marshall.
Movies set in Scotland: Brigadooon. I like this one partly because of Gene Kelly, partly because it takes place in Scotland, and partly because Eldest Daughter was in a local production of Brigadoon several years ago. Stone of Destiny. Recommended by HG at The Common Room. I enjoyed this movie based on a true incident in 1950 when four Scots student stole the Stone of Scone from Westminster Abbey and returned it to Scotland from whence it came back in the thirteenth century. Braveheart. William Wallace and all that jazz.
I thought the realistic middle grade fiction published in 2020, both historical and current day setting, was a much better crop of books than the speculative fiction, which I’ll post the best of tomorrow. Here are 12 of my favorites, all published in 2020.
Leaving Lymon by Lesa Cline-Ransom. A companion novel to Finding Langston, recipient of a Coretta Scott King Writing Honor and winner of the Scott O’Dell Award for Historical Fiction. Everyone has a story, even the bully Lymon, who needs a father and a second chance.
A Ceiling Made of Eggshells by Gail Carson Levine. Set in the 1490’s during the expulsion of the Jews from Spain, this historical fiction title tells the story of a young Jewish girl and her famous and influential grandfather. Loma lives with her family in the judería of Alcalá de Henares, Spain, and wants nothing more than to someday have a family of her own, but it seems as if Loma will never be able to make a life of her own. The Jews are in danger, and only Loma is particularly suited to help her grandfather in his quest to save their people from exile and worse.
Echo Mountain by Lauren Wolk. I thought this one was better than the author’s previous award-winning books, Wolf Hollow and Beyond the Bright Sea. Ellie’s father is in a coma, asleep in their mountain home where her family has been forced to live because of the Great Depression. And since everyone thing her father’s accident is Ellie’s fault, Ellie must find a way to bring him back, even if she has to enlist the help of the “hag” who lives at the top of Echo Mountain
We Could Be Heroes by Margaret Finnegan. Hank Hudson and Maisie Huang, misfits both, become unlikely friends and bond over saving her neighbor’s dog, Booler, who has seizures and is, according to Maisie, in imminent danger of being taken away. I didn’t know that this was a debut novel, but it is quite good. It’s light-hearted and funny without being sarcastic or slapstick, something I think is often missing in children’s fiction these days. The two children do grow, and if the father’s reaction to Hank’s first lie (he’s rather proud of his autistic son for learning how to tell a lie) is confusing to young readers, it could be a point of discussion.
Orphan Eleven by Jennifer Choldenko. Based on a true (sad) story of experimentation and psychological manipulation of orphans back in the 1930’s, this novel of four children who escape from an exploitative orphanage and find a home at the circus is well-written and engaging. Lucy, the central character, is an elective mute, and the suspense of the story has to do with why Lucy doesn’t talk, whether she ever will, and whether Lucy will find her older sister, Dilly. The villains of the story are bad, and the helpers are good; nevertheless, even the supportive adults at the circus aren’t infallible, and the children themselves have their own faults and bad choices to overcome. I liked the way the children bore one another’s burdens and forgave, even when one child was not so likeable and endangered the rest.
Everything Sad Is Untrue by Daniel Nayeri. An amazing story based on a combination of Scheherazade and the 1001 Nights and the author’s own story of emigrating from Iran to Oklahoma, this book should garner all kinds of awards. There are too many poop stories embedded in the overall story, but it’s all part of a bigger narrative of persecution, assimilation, and survival that inspires and educates American readers about Persian culture and the difficulties of being caught between two worlds.
Gold Rush Girl by Avi. Victoria Blaisdell wants independence and adventure, and when she stows away on the steamship that’s carrying her father and other hopeful gold hunters from the East Coast to the gold fields of California, she gets both in spades. Victoria’s father, determined to strike it rich, leaves Victoria and her little brother in wild and dangerous San Francisco while he searches for the gold that will change their family fortunes. And Victoria must deal with thieves, kidnappers, and her own divided loyalties as she learns to persevere and never give up hope.
Here In the Real World by Sara Pennypacker. The NY Times gave it a good review, but Kirkus called the book “well meaning but belabored”. The story is about two eleven year olds, Ware and Jolene, who create a secret garden and castle in a deserted vacant lot and torn-down church. There’s some allusion to Christian ideas and some garbled theology as both of the children try to figure out how to be hopeful and yet realistic in a broken world. If it’s belabored, then I like belabored.
Brother’s Keeper by Julie Lee. Twelve year old Sora and her little brother Youngsoo are escaping with their family from North Korea at the height of the Korean War, but when the two children are separated from their parents they will have to get to Busan on their own. Can Sora survive and take care of eight year old Youngsoo over three hundred miles of war torn country in the dead of winter?
Things Seen From Above by Shelley Pearsall. When April signs up to be a Buddy Bench monitor, mostly to escape from sixth grade lunch hour, she meets Joey, a boy who acts and interacts, well, differently. The more April tries to understand what Joey’s actions during recess are all about, his walking in circles and making trails in the playground dirt, the more she begins to understand about herself and the kids around her, her school and even her town.
Ways to Make Sunshine by Renee Watson. The acclaimed author of The Hate U Give shares a new Ramona Quimby-esque story for the 2020’s, starring a Black girl, Ryan Hart, and her family and set in Portland, Oregon, just like Beverly Cleary’s Ramona books.
The Blackbird Girls by Anne Blankman. This story is told from the perspective of three different girls–Valentina and Oksana at Chernobyl in 1986 and Rifka in 1941 surviving World War II in Ukraine. The themes are overcoming tragedy, disaster, and abuse, the value and meaning of friendship, and loyalty in an age of betrayal.
A City of Bells by Elizabeth Goudge. I got this first book in Goudge’s Torminster trilogy for Christmas last year and read it in April, during the doldrums of Covid.
A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles. I didn’t have high expectations for this story of a man who is under house/hotel arrest in Moscow as the city goes through the years of Communist rule and ruin. But I was pleasantly surprised. The gentleman in question is truly a gentleman, and the story is an inspiration to those of us who have been treated to our own long confinement courtesy of Covid.
The Final Empire (Mistborn, #1) by Brandon Sanderson.
The Well of Ascension(Mistborn, #2) by Brandon Sanderson.
The Hero of Ages (Mistborn, #3) by Brandon Sanderson.
Brandon Sanderson is an author who has been suggested, recommended to me many times, but I was skeptical. I was wrong. This trilogy is a triumph of world-building and political intrigue. If you like fantasy fiction set in another world filled with near-apocalypse and spies and master villains and mysteries, you will love these books.
Middlemarch by George Eliot. So, I finally read Middlemarch, but I read it too quickly. It wasn’t until I got to the last third of the novel that I realized that Middlemarch really is a great story with great characters. Immediately after reading the novel, I watched the miniseries based on the book. I will have to revisit both the book and the TV series sometime in the future, God willing.
Greyfriars Bobby by Eleanor Atkinson. Scottish dialect and a tragic death at the beginning (NOT the dog) make this dog story a bit daunting, but it’s worth the effort.
We Were the Lucky Ones by Georgia Hunter. Not exactly fiction, but rather somewhat fictionalized family history, about the author’s family members who survived the Holocaust.
12/28/2020 A last minute addition to this list: Magpie Murders by Anothony Horowitz. A murder mystery within a murder mystery, which also has a scene describing a play within a play. Very meta in regards to the genre of cozy Christie-type mysteries. A famous mystery writer turns in his ninth and final book featuring the famous detective Atticus Pünd. Murder, mayhem, and disruption of the lives of many, including book’s publisher, Susan Ryeland, ensues.
I read a lot of nonfiction in 2020, a lot of good nonfiction. Here are 12 of my favorites;
The Library Book by Susan Orlean. How could I not like this book all about libraries, specifically the Los Angeles Public Library, main branch, and the fire that almost destroyed it in April 1986? Part true crime, part nonfiction exploration of a subculture, part LA history, this book was my favorite nonfiction of 2020.
The Less People Know About Us: A Mystery of Betrayal, Family Secrets, and Stolen Identity by Axton Betz-Hamilton. Creepy. The more I read about this family in hiding from identity thieves, the more I suspected that something just didn’t jive. And indeed, there is more deception and lying and all round creepiness in this book and in this family than meets the eye at first. Family secrets and family dysfunction make this memoir a difficult and sad read, but fascinating nonetheless.
God’s Hostage: A True Story of Persecution, Imprisonment, and Perseverance by Andrew Brunson. Pastor Brunson, imprisoned in Turkey in 2016 and accused of being a spy, owes his release to the negotiations undertaken on his behalf by the Trump State Department. And he does thank Donald Trump and his administration for their work to gain his freedom. However, the story of his imprisonment and eventual release is riveting, and the author is vulnerable and honest about his weaknesses and his wavering (but never extinguished) faith as he endured over two years of trial, prison, and false accusation. He also acknowledges to Whom he owes the real praise and gratitude for his ability to persevere and eventually gain his freedom.
Bad Blood: Secrets and Lies in a Silicon Valley Startup by John Carreyrou. Discouraging. People can be such liars that they even deceive themselves. This book and the one by Axton Betz-Hamilton cited above showed me how easy it is to get caught up in a web of lies—and how easy it is to deceive the people closest to you, partly because they want to believe.
The Feather Thief by Kirk Wallace Johnson A very odd story. Who knew that certain feathers were so valuable and coveted? And how much damage can one thief do? Apparently a lot of damage to the historical record—just by stealing feathers!
Dorothy and Jack: The Transforming Friendship of Dorothy L. Sayers and C. S. Lewis by Gina Dalfonzo. Gina is an internet friend and a good author. She has another book out this year about Charles Dickens that I would like to read soon.
Upon the Head of the Goat: A Childhood in Hungary 1939-1944 by Aranka Siegel. I think I read this memoir a long time ago when I was a teen, but re-reading it was good, although it ends rather abruptly in the middle of the ongoing war.
Anthony Burns: The Defeat and Triumph of a Fugitive Slave by Virginia Hamilton. An excellent Messner biography about a man I had never heard of.
What Is a Girl Worth?: My Story of Breaking the Silence and Exposing the Truth about Larry Nassar and USA Gymnastics by Rachel Denhollander. This memoir/advocacy is heartbreaking and inspiring at the same time. I read the copy that I purchased for my daughter for Christmas, but I may need a copy of my own.
The Gospel Comes with a House Key by Rosaria Butterfield. Hospitality can take many forms, but however it manifests, sharing one’s home and life with friends and strangers is a part of the Christian mandate. Even during a pandemic?
New Found World by Katherine Shippen. A history of South and Central America. I found this absorbing, maybe because I’ve never actually read a chronological history of Latin America. It’s written for middle grade readers, but I can testify that it’s fine for adult readers, too.
Empire of the Summer Moon: Quanah Parker and the Rise and Fall of the Comanches, the Most Powerful Indian Tribe in American History by S.C. Gwynne. Absolutely fascinating. I am a Texan, steeped in Texas history, but much of the information in this book was new to me. I thought it was fair to both Native Americans and to the incoming immigrant settlers who come from all over the world, but mostly the U.S., to completely change their own lives and the lives of the Comanche people they displaced.
The following is a letter from artist Julius Stockfleth to his brother. Stockfleth is known for his paintings of Galveston’s ships and harbor, including the only known painting of the aftermath of the Galveston hurricane of 1900.
Wyk on the island of Foehr
December 15, 1908
My dear brother,
This letter will serve as a Christmas card to you. It was with great sadness that our widowed mother and I returned to our native village. My failing finances forced me to leave Texas. This Christmas will be a quiet one for us.
I often dream of the great ships I used to paint in Galveston. As I walk along the beach of this island in the North Sea, I remember the boats I loved in Texas.
Nightmares of the tidal wave still haunt me. So many lives were lost in that terrible storm. Sometimes, I wake up in a cold sweat. Then, I dress, put on my black slouch hat, pick up my silver-headed cane, and walk up and down the beach. This calms my nerves. I hope we find the peace we seek here. May you and your family find peace and joy in the New Year.
Your brother,
Julius
from Artists Who Painted Texas by Marjorie von Rosenberg
