“[I]f God took the trouble to tell us eight hundred times to be glad and rejoice, He must want us to do it—–SOME.” ~Pollyanna by Eleanor Porter.

Rejoice in the Lord always; again, I say, rejoice! ~Phillipians 4:4

1) I never read this poem by C.S. Lewis before, even though I’m a Lewis fan:

As the Ruin Falls
by C. S. Lewis
All this is flashy rhetoric about loving you.
I never had a selfless thought since I was born.
I am mercenary and self-seeking through and through:
I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn.
Peace, re-assurance, pleasure, are the goals I seek,
I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin:
I talk of love –a scholar’s parrot may talk Greek–
But, self-imprisoned, always end where I begin.
Only that now you have taught me (but how late) my lack.
I see the chasm. And everything you are was making
My heart into a bridge by which I might get back
From exile, and grow man. And now the bridge is breaking.
For this I bless you as the ruin falls. The pains
You give me are more precious than all other gains.

It might seem an odd thing to be joyful about, falling ruins, but I think I get what he means. And I am happy to be made new.

2) Winterbound by Margery Williams Bianco. It is perfectly possible to live a happy, grateful life in less than ideal circumstances.

3) This prayer by Inca Pachacutec, to Pachacamac, “a god who was the creator and preserver of all mankind” and above even the Sun God whom the Incas had always worshipped:

O Pachacamac!

Thou who hast existed from the beginning,

Thou who shalt exist to the end,

Powerful, but merciful,

Who didst create man by saying,

“Let man be!”

Who defendest us from evil,

And preservest our life and our health,

Art Thou in the sky or upon the earth?

In the clouds or in the deeps?

Hear the voice of him who implores thee

And grant his petitions,

Give us life everlasting,

Preserve us and accept this our sacrifice. . . .

Prayer preserved by Spanish priests, copied from New Found World by Katherine B. Shippen

See Romans 1:19-20. God has always been revealing Himself to men through His creation, and He continues to do so through His Son, Jesus Christ.

4) I got to go to church last Sunday, and I will go again this Sunday, God willing, to worship the Lord with the saints in my congregation. What a blessing!

5) I’m adding lots and lots of new-to-me books to my library, Meriadoc Homeschool Library, books that I acquired from a school that was closing (sad), but that will now have a new opportunity to serve the patrons of my library.

6) I thought I’d posted this song, Joy by Scott Mulvahill, before, but I couldn’t find it. It still makes me smile:

7) I got to spend time with both of my baby grandchildren, Teddy and Hazel, this week. That’s joy, for sure!

I am NOT an expert genealogical researcher. I may have this all wrong. However, if I understand the information I have gathered in my reading and my rambling at sites like ancestry.com, my tenth great grandfather was possibly the first Italian to settle in New York, or New Amsterdam as it was then, in 1635.

Pietro Caesare Alberti, aka Peter Albertus, Pietro Cicero Alberti, Peter the Italian, and many other names and nicknames, was a sailor on a Dutch ship, De Coninck David (the King David), who perhaps because of a dispute with the ship’s captain, De Vries, decided to jump ship, more or less, and settle in New Amsterdam. He arrived in the Dutch colony of New Amsterdam on June 2, 1635, having sailed with DeVries from the Dutch island of Texel to Guiana in South America to Virginia and then finally to New Amsterdam where De Vries hoped to have repairs made to his leaky ship. For one reason or another Pietro Alberti decided to stay in America. He later sued De Vries in court for back pay that he said was owed to him for the part of the voyage he did complete. Alberti won a payment of ten guilders.

This Venetian thrown among the Dutch became a middle class farmer in a hard land. He acquired land for a tobacco plantation on Long Island in 1639, and in 1642 he married a Dutch Walloon girl, Judith Manje, in the Dutch Reformed Church in New Amsterdam. At first the couple lived on the Here Graft (Broad Canal, Manhattan), but they soon moved to their farm/plantation on the Long Island shore of the East River. This island was wild country at the time, disputed, settled, bought and sold between the English from Connecticut and Massachusetts colonies, the Dutch from New Netherlands, and the Native tribes who still lived on Long Island. And one Italian. Pietro Alberti and his wife Judith had six children over the course of twelve years of marriage: Jan, Marles, Aert, Marritje, Francyntie, and Willem, all baptized and recorded in the Dutch Reformed Church records.

Then, in about November 1655 both Pietro, age 47, and Judith, age 35, died, possibly in an Indian raid. They left five orphaned children (one child died as an infant), the oldest only eleven years old. That oldest child was my ninth great grandfather, Jan/John Albertus, and John’s daughter Elizabeth married a Stewart. My mother was a Stewart descended from these early inhabitants, Dutch and Italian and English, of New Amsterdam/New York.

Belloc is remembered in an annual celebration in Sussex, known as Belloc Night, that takes place on the writer’s birthday, 27 July, in the manner of Burns Night in Scotland. The celebration includes reading from Belloc’s work and partaking of a bread and cheese supper with pickles. ~Wikipedia, Hilaire Belloc

I think Mr. Belloc was incredibly prescient at times. For example apply the following insight to the present-day political situation in the United States:

In a word, the Barbarian is discoverable everywhere in this that he cannot make; that he can befog or destroy, but that he cannot sustain; and of every Barbarian in the decline or peril of every civilisation exactly that has been true.
We sit by and watch the Barbarian, we tolerate him; in the long stretches of peace we are not afraid.
We are tickled by his irreverence, his comic inversion of our old certitudes and our fixed creeds refreshes us: we laugh. But as we laugh we are watched by large and awful faces from beyond: and on these faces there is no smile.
Ch. XXXII : The Barbarians , p. 282

However, he could also be quite simply wrong:

I am opposed to women’s voting as men vote. I call it immoral, because I think the bringing of one’s women, one’s mothers and sisters, into the political arena, disturbs the relations between the sexes.

Often, he was funny:

When I am dead, I hope it may be said: “His sins were scarlet, but his books were read.

The Llama is a woolly sort of fleecy hairy goat, with an indolent expression and an undulating throat; like an unsuccessful literary man.

Then, sometimes he is just homely and lovely:

If I ever become a rich man,
Or if ever I grow to be old,
I will build a house with deep thatch
To shelter me from the cold,
And there shall the Sussex songs be sung
And the story of Sussex told.

I will hold my house in the high wood
Within a walk of the sea,
And the men that were boys when I was a boy
Shall sit and drink with me.

If you read my post last week about Sally Perry Stewart who was my great-great grandmother, then you read a little bit about my great-great grandfather, John William Stewart. Sally had the following to say about her husband, over sixty years after his death:

In 1863 Sally Perry was married to John William Stewart.  Mr. Stewart was a Texas Ranger and served in various parts of the state for over 10 years. . . . Mr. Stewart died in 1873 just 10 years after his marriage to Sally Perry.  His death occurred on Aug. 19, which was the ninth birthday of his eldest son, B. C.  During the time Mr. Stewart served as a Ranger he worked under Captain Chris Bitix, famous leader of the Texas Rangers.  His work included a close check on Indians and at one time a group of 300 of them were arrested near Austin and sent back across the border into Oklahoma. 

Newspaper article about Sally Perry, 1938

So, there’s a little more to the story than Sally told the reporter. John William Stewart was sometimes known as J.W., but even more often he went by his nickname, Buff. No one knows for sure how he got the nickname Buff, but there’s a story that as a young teenager he tried to ride a buffalo. I guess after such an exploit one might be able to carry off the nickname Buff with some confidence or even cockiness.

I say that Buff might have been a little cocky because of the rest of his story. He married Miss Sally Perry in July, 1863 at the height of the Civil War. Sally was twenty-one years old. Buff was only sixteen. He and Sally spent about six months together, maybe (unless Buff was out looking for a buffalo to lasso), until January of 1864 when Buff joined the Texas Ranger company formed and commanded by Captain G.C. (Christopher) Bittick, Burnet County, 3rd Frontier District, Texas State Troops. At this point Buff was still only seventeen years old, but he told the Rangers that he was eighteen. (The age for conscription in Texas at this time was eighteen. Buff wouldn’t actually be eighteen until December of 1864.) Captain Bittick’s Ranger Company was organized in Burnet County, where Buff and his wife lived, under a law passed in December, 1863 by the Texas Legislature:

The resulting law, which established the Frontier Organization and transferred the Frontier Regiment, passed the legislature on December 15, 1863. The law declared that all persons liable for military service who were actual residents of the frontier counties of Texas were to be enrolled into companies of from twenty-five to sixty-five men. The act defined the frontier line and the fifty-nine organized frontier counties of Texas. . . . Companies in the Frontier Organization normally averaged between fifty and fifty-five men in strength, usually with about fifteen men per squad for patrol duty. The length of service at any one time varied according to the task, presence of the enemy, and availability of supplies, but most squads on patrol duty expected to remain out for about ten days at a time. The Frontier Organization not only provided protection against Indian incursions but also enforced Confederate conscription, rounded up deserters, and provided protection to settlers from renegades and bandits. 

~Handbook of Texas, Volume 2

Before he went off to ride with his Texas Ranger Company, Buff did something else important: apparently sometime in November or December, he fathered his first son, Boling Christopher Stewart, born in August, 1864, and given the same middle name as Buff’s Ranger captain, Captain Bittick.

After war was over, Buff continued to serve with the Texas Rangers, but he managed to get home often enough to father three daughters: Frances (b. 1865), Luna (b.1868), and Sarah (b.1870). Then, in 1871, Buff and Sally had a second baby boy, John William Stewart, named for his father.

Buff was, I guess, supporting the family with his law enforcement duties and maybe a little extra work when he came home in between rotating patrol duty. But in 1873, something happened that changed the lives and fortunes of the entire Stewart family. Buff Stewart changed his place of residence from Burnet to Huntsville, Texas and became convict #2794. He was convicted in Burnet County in April, 1873 of attempted murder.

I can’t find any information about how Buff’s switch from one side of the law to the other took place or about whom he tried to kill or why. However, he died while incarcerated at Huntsville on August 19, 1873. His older boy was nine years old when his daddy died, and his younger son, my great grandfather, was almost but not even two years old. Sally, only thirty-one years old when her even-younger husband died, never remarried and managed to raise all five of her children alone. Maybe she got help from her family or her husband’s family, but she nevertheless lived a long life, died in 1939 at the age of ninety-seven, and apparently remembered only the good parts of her short marriage to Texas Ranger Buff Stewart.

In this sequel to Aunt Vinnie’s Invasion (which I haven’t read), the six Hallsenius children are staying with their aunt in the small town of Nordvik in Sweden while their parents photographing a scientific expedition in Africa. Over the course of the story, sixteen year old Annika acquires a boyfriend, and the oldest boy in the family, Anders, acquires a girlfriend. Twelve year old Lollie breaks a bowl and has an encounter with the police. Trina and Sam play supporting roles in the story, but we don’t get to know them much. However, it is Per, the youngest Hallsenius child, who does the most to upset and enhance Aunt Vinnie’s quiet life.

Aunt Vinnie has a remarkably matter-of-fact and trustful approach to life and to caring for six children. She lets them fend for themselves, and they come to her when they need help. The story itself feels just a little bit foreign, but not foreign enough to put readers off. I’m not sure it’s exciting enough for many of today’s readers, but for a thoughtful reader with a taste for quiet stories set in other places and times, it might hit the spot.

Karin Anckarsvärd is a Swedish author who wrote fourteen books for children, including Bonifacius the Green (about a playful dragon), The Mysterious Schoolmaster, and The Doctor’s Boy, a rather dark middle grade novel about poverty and class distinctions and coming of age. As in Doctor’s Boy, the children in Aunt Vinnie’s Victorious Six are remarkably free to roam the town and get into all sorts of adventures and scrapes on their own without much adult supervision. Oh, the nostalgia of a free-range childhood!

Well, this sort of Thai setting, Buddhist, dystopian fantasy middle grade novel is not exactly the kind of book I would have expected to enjoy, but I did. The author blurb says that Ms. Soontornvat grew up in Texas and lives in Austin, so maybe some of the Texan in her got into this novel, too? The blurb also calls the story Soontornvat’s twist on Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables, my favorite book ever, so maybe that’s why I liked it. Anyway, I thought it was quite fascinating with a positive message about light conquering darkness and change being difficult and costly but possible.

The book begins in a women’s prison in the city of Chattana. Pong and Somkit are orphan boys, born in the prison to convict mothers who died when the boys were infants. Children born in the prison are unjustly condemned to remain there until they reach the age of thirteen, but Pong escapes early and ends up in a monastery where he becomes the acolyte and disciple of a monk named Father Cham (Bishop Myriel).

Meanwhile, back in the city, the Governor who came to the city to bring light and order and goodness to Chattana has become a dictator who provides his orbs of colored light to those who serve him and keep the law perfectly while he imprisons all those who fail to please him or follow his ever-increasing number of rules. And those who fall in-between? They are sinking deeper and deeper into poverty and despair.

Pong becomes our boyish Jean Valjean as he flees the long arm of the law and sees himself as condemned to be always running, always sinning. He wants freedom and thinks that he will do anything to obtain it, but eventually he learns the lesson: “You can’t run away from darkness. It’s everywhere. The only way to see through it is to shine a light.”

As I said, I thought this was a great novel, but there are a couple of caveats that might give some readers pause. It is, as I said, Buddhist with Buddhist monks and visions and prayers and a statue of Buddha at the center of the monastery, but it’s Buddhism-lite with not much Buddhist theology thrown in that I could see. In addition, one of the adult characters talks about the extramarital affair he had in the past, no sordid details, but it’s a plot point. If those two aspects of the book aren’t a problem for you, then I highly recommend A Wish in the Dark.

The Sallie Perry Stewart in this newspaper article, published in 1938, is my great-great grandmother:

96 YEAR OLD, WHO CAME TO TEXAS IN 1849, HAS NEVER OWNED A COOK STOVE OR SEWING MACHINE, MADE A DRESS, DONE A LAUNDRY OR USED LIPSTICK   by Maud Green 

As the spring of 1938 goes down the steps of time, it adds its share to the blurred memory and sight of a tiny white haired woman who is now living in the winter of life, and drawing into the shadow of the century mark on life’s highway.  But the many years have not taken from her a vivid recollection of her childhood days and an intense desire to return to the state of her birth.  
This “little old lady” Mrs. Sally Catherine Stewart, celebrated her ninety-sixth birthday last Dec. 19.  She is probably the oldest living resident in West Texas.  Although she has lived almost a century, she has never owned a cook stove or a sewing machine.  She has never done a laundry or made a dress, and today she recalls how she used to powder her nose with corn-starch, and vows probably one of the reasons she has lived so long is because she “never used a lip stick.” 
Sally C. came to Texas when she was eight years old.  She was born in Montgomery, Ala. in 1841 and as she sits in her favorite chair, she talks constantly of Montgomery with a childish humor that keeps her listeners in an uproar.  She tell of a little boy she remembers who told a friend that he “lived in the rhuburbs of Montgomery” he meant suburbs but got his words mixed up.
Her father was related to Marshall and Ruf Perry, famous Indian fighters of early Texas days.  The Perry family came to Texas in 1849, in the days when crossing the Mississippi meant almost a week on ferry boats.  There were 13 children in the Perry family. A rather peculiar fact about these 13 children is that Sally Catherine was the middle one and she is the only one of them alive today.  The Perrys were accompanied by their grandmother who made her home in Texas with them.  This grandmother lacked a few months of being one hundred years old when she died.
Marshall Perry met the new comers on the Texas side of the river and conducted them to their home in Bastrop County.
In 1863 Sally Perry was married to John William Stewart.  Mr. Stewart was a Texas Ranger and served in various parts of the state for over 10 years.  The Stewarts made their home in Burnett, with him spending most of his time in the service on the Mexico border.  Mrs. Stewart is now drawing a pension as widow of the Texas Ranger.  Five children were born to Mr. and Mrs. John Stewart.  Of these five children the oldest and youngest are now all that are living.  They are B. C. Stewart, 73, Divide, with whom she now lives, and Bill Stewart, 63, of Roscoe.  Mr. Stewart died in 1873 just 10 years after his marriage to Sally Perry.  His death occurred on Aug. 19, which was the ninth birthday of his eldest son, B. C. 
During the time Mr. Stewart served as a Ranger he worked under Captain Chris Bitix,famous leader of the Texas Rangers.  His work included a close check on Indians and at one time a group of 300 of them were arrested near Austin and sent back across the border into Oklahoma.  Mrs. Stewart talks of the time the Indians, “such a big bunch of them” were camped near her home.
Sally Catherine has not been out of the state of Texas since she came here in 1849 and has lived in Nolan County since 1896. Her son, B. C. Stewart, and his family settled near Valley Creek which is about 15 miles from their present home at Divide.  Most of the traveling she did in early days was in an ox cart.
In all her 96 years she has seldom been sick enough to need a doctor.  When she was 74 years old, a doctor was called just to be sure it was smallpox she had.  She has owned one pair of glasses during her lifetime and they were soon thrown away and she proceeded to read without them.  She read constantly until the past few years, and she still reads headlines and is very fond of pictures.
Mrs. Stewart had been a member of the Church of Christ for over 68 years.  B. C. Stewart (you remember he is 73 years old) says one of his earliest remembrances is how frightened he was when his mother was led into the water to be baptised.  She continued her church work until a comparatively short time ago and she still talks about the Bible and wants each radio program to be some kind of religious service.
This lovable nonegenaran is still in exceptionally good health and talks with a sense of humor that is somtimes breath-taking. She has always eaten anything she fancied and has not yet formed the habit of pampering her appetite.   She has a will of her own as was shown when asked to have her pictures made.  “What do you want with my picture” she asked “We’re not going to raise a garden.”  After a bit of persuasion she decided it really would be fun to have her picture made.
She has 28 grandchildren, 51 great grandchildren, and seven great-great grandchildren. They are living in various parts of the west.   
And so the little white haired woman sits in peace and comfort and dreams of days that used to be.  When she heard talk of the Perrys and their Indian fights, she remarked that “Those Perrys were rip-tearers,” and that she was mighty proud that she was a Perry.  “If I were young folks, I’d go back to Montgomery,” she says dreamily.  “I can still remember the walks I used to take and the fun I used to have.”

My great-great grandmother (my maternal grandfather’s paternal grandmother) omits a key fact about her husband, John William “Buff” Stewart, the Texas Ranger. I’ll write about Buff next week. I wish I had the photograph that is mentioned in the article.

I’m going to try to make this post a weekly ritual, beginning with picture books from and about the state of Maine, way up north. With fifty states to travel to, by way of the best picture books I can find, this journey should take about a year.

Maine

• Motto: Dirigo/ I Lead
• Nickname: The Pine Tree State; The Vacation State
• State Flower:  White Pine Cone and Tassel
• State Bird: Chickadee

Blueberries for Sal by Robert McCloskey. Viking, 1948. This first book is an old favorite. Wandering Sal meets a Mother Bear while the bee’s cub manages to follow Sal’s mother by mistake. “Little Bear and Little Sal’s mother and Little Sal and Little Bear’s mother were all mixed up with each other among the blueberries on Blueberry Hill.”

One Morning in Maine by Robert McCloskey. Viking, 1952. Sal again, but now she’s a big sister with a little sister named Jane, and Sal has a loose tooth, which makes her a big girl now. The day also holds a trip to the beach to dig clams and a trip to Buck’s Harbor and various other ups and downs as Sal shares with everyone she meets the story of her lost tooth.

Time of Wonder by Robert McCloskey. Viking, 1957. One summer on an island off the coast of Maine. “Out on the islands that poke their rocky shores above the waters of Penobscot Bay, you can watch the time of the world go by, from minute to minute, hour to hour, from day to day.”

The Finest Horse in Town by Jacqueline Briggs Martin. Illustrated by Susan Gaber. HarperCollins, 1992. This book is based on the stories that the author heard about her mother’s aunts who owned a dry goods store in a small town in Maine back in the early twentieth century. The story itself is fiction, what might have happened to the sisters and their wonderful horse.

Island Boy by Barbara Cooney. Viking Kestrel, 1988. Along with McCloskey, Barbara Cooney is probably the most well known Maine children’s author. Island Boy is about Matthias who lives Tibbets Island. Matthias is baby of twelve children, and although travels as a sailor and down the east coast, he finally comes back to Tibbets Island to live. Sad ending, but a wonderful family story.

Birdie’s Lighthouse by Deborah Hopkinson. Illustrated by Kimberly Bulcken Root. Aladdin, 1996. Bertha Holland tells the story in her journal of how she learned to help her papa keep the lights burning in the lighthouse on Turtle Island. Beautiful illustrations make the tale of Birdie’s bravery and diligence even more exciting.

The Stranded Whale by Jane Yolen. Illustrated by Melanie Cataldo. Candlewick, 2015. This lovely picture book, about some children who find a beached whale and try to save it, is really sad. Not for sensitive readers, but the story is realistic and as the author’s note in the back of the book says, “Beachings are always sad, . . . but the good news is that they don’t affect whale species as a whole.”

Surrounded by Sea: Life on a New England Fishing Island by Gail Gibbons. Holiday House, 1991. Does everyone in Maine live or at least summer on an island? This book presents life on a Maine island in a simple, factual manner. Not everyone’s cup of tea, but I like Gail Gibbons’ straightforward, just-the-facts style of writing.

The Circus Ship by Chris Van Dusen. Candlewick, 2009. Based on a true story, The Circus Ship is anything but just the facts, m’am. In rollicking, rhyming text, a ship carrying at least fifteen exotic circus animals is wrecked off the coast of Maine, and in Van Dusen’s story, the animals all swim to a nearby island (an island again!) and find a home among the village people there. It’s wildly imaginative, but still Maine-ish with white clapboard houses and New England-looking dress and signage.

I couldn’t find copies of these other three picture books about Maine that I found while researching online. If anyone knows about them and wants to recommend, please leave a comment. Or if you know of other picture books set in Maine that give a true flavor of the state, please share.

• Andre the Famous Harbor Seal by Fran Hodgkins.  Illustrated by Yetti Frenkel. Down East Books, 2003.
• Lobsterman by Dahlov Ipcar.  Down East Books, 1962. 
• The Story of the Sea Glass by Anne Dodd. Illustrated by Mary Beth Owens. Down East Books, 1999.

Next Saturday: VERMONT