“September Jottings ’97” marks an anniversary. This month five years ago in 1992, I typed my first jottings on a computer. Judy had typed the ones that preceded that. In fact the 1992 edition was typed partially on Paul Keeley’s computer then on mine. I purchased this PC on Sept 23, 1992.
The process of our moving brought me to discover the above. I am cleaning house in order to take only what is necessary. I pulled out the copies of the jottings and began reading. It was, as they say, “a trip down memory lane”. It also illuminated the improvements I have made in handling the machine and its secrets! The September ’92 issue, when compared to Judy’s typing prior thereto and my since, appears to be a draft. So I have retyped it and edited it. You might well ask “why?”
Unfortunately, I don’t have neither snappy nor reasonable answer other than I just felt compelled to clean it up.
The cleaning house also led me to learn that I began these ramblings, etc, (not called “Jottings” until 1994) in April of 1992. Prior thereto I had written a recollection of Marge’s trip and mine to Sulu for Frank’s Funeral, entitled “My Sad Odyssey”.
Enough of the past, now the present. Our time in Dorcas Street is now down to days (Ed. note: it is now 9/30/97 and we have been in Florida since 9/20).
My acknowledging that I was studying Latin once again brought some interesting echoes. One, a note from Eleanor McSorley indicating she too had studied the language for six years and had an itch to maybe try it again; another was from my Dentist, Gene Lewis, who asked the perennial retiree question: “What will you do with your time?” and got, as part of the answer, my new venture into Linqua Latina. He then indicated he studied it for four years, every day in H.S. and wished he could go back to the reading it as he was able to do then. The last was a clipping sent to me by Bill King reporting, “Latin’s not Greek to Them” referring to a conference, held in Finland recently, where Latin was the only language spoken! It had in attendance Latin Speakers from 21 countries some of whom could not speak English. Some 220 Latin teachers and scholars attended and every where you went people would say “Ubi habitas?” rather than “Where do you live?” So the “dead” language lives!
I note that on the Net it is getting more attention with a variety of programs. One, very handy for me, is “Words by Whitaker” where you can type in a Latin word or phrase and it translates it, advising if it is a noun, adjective, verb, adverb or pronoun, and then telling you what conjugation, declension, etc. I find it useful since one of the manuals I am using doesn’t have a “trot “i.e., a literal translation of the Latin text. So after I have made my stab at the translation I then go to Whitaker and confirm, or re-do, as the case maybe. One book I continue to use “Latina Pro Publico” and it does have all its exercises so translated. It lists them in the section entitled “Trots”. Latin studies are the only place where I ever recall that word being used with this meaning. I also received in the mail an ad selling a CD’s for the study of languages, and sure enough there among the Spanish, French, Russian, German, etc. was Latin (I received the CD and it is a terrific tool!).
When I told June about the conference where they talked only Latin she taunted: ‘Well, I suppose now you’ll want to go to such a conference?” I don’t think so unless the process of my relearning suddenly and miraculously speeds up!
Thinking about talking in a foreign language reminded me of a train ride I had with Frank (later Bishop Frank) in 1948 through the Pyrenees on our way to Genoa. We had a compartment or a small room where at least eight people could sit, four on each side. There was only the two of us and we noted in the corridor, outside our closed door, several young men and women standing. Frank, in a mixture of Spanish,
Latin, and French invited them into the cabin. I was just fresh from two years of studying French and decided to try my skill with communicating in that language. I got nowhere. I might as well have been speaking Chinese. My attempts were soon cut short when the conductor bursts in, and in a language that we all understood, be it French, Spanish, or what have you, ordered our guests back into the hallway. He returned to apologize to us in English for their disruptive behavior. Neither Frank nor I offered to explain that they had been invited, since we would have been likewise subject to the “wardens” anger over the rules being broken. It seems they paid for “steerage” and that’s all he would allow them. So my venture into using my newly learned (?) French never got off the ground. Later in Rome I was told that I shouldn’t blame it all on my lack of knowledge or practice, it seems those young people were most likely students from the north of Spain who speak a mixture of French and Spanish peculiar to the Pyrenees region. Incidentally, I got to watch Frank use his Latin in Genoa. We arrived early in the morning and we went to a church where he wanted to celebrate Mass. He discussed this in Latin with an Italian priest, who could speak no English, and we were ushered in to the church. This was 1948 when Latin was the language of the Mass and the official language of the Roman Church, which I suppose it, still is.
In my travels in cyberspace I came across a journal entitled “The Blockhead Journal”. It takes its name from a Dr. Johnson quote “No man but a blockhead ever wrote except fob4 r money”. The editor is a retired TV-newspaper journalist. His last position was in New York and his work in editorial writing and producing brought him a Peabody Award. He lives in Durham, North Carolina and teaches at Duke, and in a local institution a Bible class five times a week. His Journal, which by the way is for “no money”, has daily “a what happened this day in history; a round table discussion group; info on good links (a link a day keeps the blues away); reviews of books, TV-videos, films; a gourmet table; travel and music pages; a poets comer; and, The Church of One-at-a-Time with a daily meditation from the bible. The writer’s name is Richard N. Hughes and if you wish you can enjoy all of this for yourself on the net. The address is http://www.blockhead.com.
My interests in the Journal have been, most of the time, in its book and poetry comers. I occasionally read an editorial but stay away since I find myself starting to take notes to respond to what I consider poor reasoning or non-sequiturs. As they say: “You can take the Lawyer out of the Practice, but you can’t take the practice out of the lawyer!”
His poetry comer led me to Dorothy Parker and the purchase of one of her books. It also confirmed that I still don’t dig Walt Whitman. I did find it interesting to learn that Walt was a civil servant and as a young man in D.C. watched Lincoln travel back and forth on horseback with his entourage. It, his watching, perhaps resulted in one poem I do enjoy “O Captain, My Captain…our fearful trip is done.” He was Camden’s most famous citizen as far as I know. None of this helped me get through the “Leaves of Grass”. From the Blockhead’s book page I’ve garnered an interest in several books and have one now entitled: “Paul: The Mind of the Apostle “. One of its theses is that it was he, not the other apostles, that created “Christianity” as a sect or religion, “Paul, not Jesus was – if anyone was – the Founder of Christianity.” I haven’t read it yet so I’ll save my judgments until after the hearing.
The most recent issue to attract me was an essay of Richard Wilbur, the American Poet Laureate in 1987. A fact that neither the writer nor I knew when he began to read his poetry and a book of critical essays about his work. It wasn’t only his poetry, some of which is quoted in the essay, but the writer’s feelings about life, writing, and the “eternal verities” that stirred the editor. The writer-editor of the Blockhead is retired from the hustle and bustle and creates this journal out of personal satisfaction, not material gain. He would certainly qualify as one of Dr. Johnson’s “blockheads”.
It is now the 30th Day of September and I type this from 1644 Connecticut Avenue, our new home. I best end here if it is ever to be honestly considered “September’s Jottings”. I’ll try to add a note to each and bring you all up to date in October.
Mememto! Dum vita est, spes est!
Ron and Mary (and the Dynamite Duo, Aidan and Alex),
Think of you often but more particularly when we see an oversized cherub that smiles like the either of the A’s – let us know how they are progressing – like playing soccer, talking Latin, or helping mom out with the housework!
Love, Dad (and Proud Granddad)