Things we love

Caitlin's Band

Mudbison: Color TV

Spence's house

Writing!

He was a dreamer in such wise, because he was a man who had, deep-rooted in his nature, a belief in all the gentle and good things his life had been without. Bred in meanness and hard dealing, this had rescued him to be a man of honourable mind and open hand. Bred in coldness and severity, this had rescued him to have a warm and sympathetic heart. Bred in a creed too darkly audacious to pursue, through its process of reserving the making of man in the image of his Creator to the making of his Creator in the image of an erring man, this had rescued him to judge not, and in humility to be merciful, and have hope and charity.

And this saved him still from the whimpering weakness and cruel selfishness of holding that because such a happiness or such a virtue had not come into his little path, or worked well for him, therefore it was not in the great scheme, but was reducible, when found in appearance, to the basest elements. A disappointed mind he had, but a mind too firm and healthy for such unwholesome air. Leaving himself in the dark, it could rise into the light, seeing it shine on others and hailing it.

Therefore, he sat before his dying fire, sorrowful to think upon the way by which he had come to that night, yet not strewing poison on the way by which other men had come to it. That he should have missed so much, and at his time of life should look so far about him for any staff to bear him company upon his downward journey and cheer it, was a just regret. He looked at the fire from which the blaze departed, from which the afterglow subsided, in which the ashes turned grey, from which they dropped to dust, and thought, 'How soon I too shall pass through such changes, and be gone!'

To review his life was like descending a green tree in fruit and flower, and seeing all the branches wither and drop off, one by one, as he came down towards them.

'From the unhappy suppression of my youngest days, through the rigid and unloving home that followed them, through my departure, my long exile, my return, my mother's welcome, my intercourse with her since, down to the afternoon of this day with poor Flora,' said Arthur Clennam, 'what have I found!'

His door was softly opened, and these spoken words startled him, and came as if they were an answer:

'Little Dorrit.'

Charles Dickens,

Little Dorrit (1855-57)

Chapter 13.

From the archives

Thursday, Jan. 15, 1998: Last night Spence looked at several fixed points over Sharon’s shoulders and laughed and laughed.  She didn't see anything, and felt as calm as can be.  Maybe there were friendly visitors.

Sharon takes a break and goes to the church for an evening of sports.  I have some fun with the girls (while Spence sleeps).  Colouring.  Joni Mitchell, because Drew is tired of all these boy singers.  Renoir’s Little Match Girl.  Esau and Jacob reuniting.  During Andersen’s Thumbelina C. and D. are both shocked into wide-eyed amaze at the swallow’s resurrection through the loving ministrations of the protagonist.  C. reads the d’Aulaire’s Abraham Lincoln to me.  Drew reads to Sarah.  I slip over and practice that Chopin piece, at which point Sarah falls spectacularly down the stairs.  Parenting!  She lives to tell the tale.  

Monday, January 20, 2003: To observe MLK day we read some poems by Langston Hughes and Countee Cullen.  We watch an Eyes on the Prize about 1963, and something on the murder of Emmet Till.  Here we are, living in Springville.  I can’t foresee us actually meeting any black people. 

 

Dedications from Sharon's Junior High yearbook, Foothill Intermediate School, La Cañada, California, 1974-75

Hi.

Donald

__________

  

Sharon Anderbutt!

Jeanette Ursino

__________

Sharon,

You took a good picture this year.

 

Have a good summer.  See ya next year.

Ted

__________

Sharon—after going to school with you for seven years this is the first time I’ve signed your yearbook!  See ya—

Love,

Nancy

__________

Hi Speedy.  Man I am gonna get a great tan and bleach my hair and learn how to run fast.  After that I’ll change my name to Sharon!  I love you so much.

Love, Janna

S.'s 3rd daughter (Sarah, grade 9), taking 2nd at a 4A region final

Sharon,

Have a bitchen summer! 

Judy

6/10/75

Sharron

Sorry I didn’t get to know you well but from what I know you are really nice have a super summer

Sally

 __________

Have a good summer.  It was nice being in math but not Johnson’s class.  I hate her.

Mark Callister

 

Dear Sharon,

…Come on over this summer and swim with us!  Since your dads the one who asked you if you wanted an air conditioner or a pool and you said a pool and you ended up with a air conditioner. 

Love,

Leslie

__________

Sharon,

You’re a pretty good friend.

Lisa

Sharon—you’re a sub two minute 880 to me. 

(S. finishing the Logan marathon, 1999)

I’m really glad I met you.  You are so good in P.E. I wish I was like you.  I’m glad you were in my class.  I’m also glad you recovered from the measles.  You know, I had them a week before you got them. 

Dolores.

 

Sharon—you’re a great athlete, a good sport, and a good student.  I hope I have you next year!  Have a good summer.  Thanks for being good. 

Paula Miller

__________

Sharon,

Have a great summer!  I know I had a lot of disagreements with you but I stil like you. 

Karen Abbey

(We don't know these girls; they just looked period-appropriate)

Dear Sharon,

Even though I didn’t get to be really good friends with you this year maybe we will next year.  Anyway I think you’re so funny and nice.  Hope we get some classes together next year.

Love,

Remeny

__________

Sharon—It was fun in P.E.  Your so great at sports.  It was fun just getting to know you.  I might see you over the summer, but if not next year.  Have a wonderful summer. 

Bye,

Martha

__________

Sharon,

Your so good at sports I wish I was as good as you.  Your also a good friend.  Have a great summer and see you soon.

Kim

La Cañada/Flintridge

Hey Man,

It was real fun this year in the two classes we had together.  We are really going to have a neat summer.  It seems this year gone by so fast and now it’s summer (Wow).  Hope I have you in more classes next year. 

Love ya sister,

Nan
__________

Sharon,

Hope you have a great summer, it’s been neat knowing you even though your weird (only kidding!)  Hope to see you next year.  See ya. 

Luv,

Ann

Goalie

Terry Sawchuk played in the NHL from 1949-50 to 1969-70, mostly with the Detroit Red Wings.  He is fifth on the all-time list for regular season wins (447).  His record for regular season shut-outs (103) was long thought to be unassailable, though it was recently eclipsed by Martin Brodeur.  As is obvious, Sawchuk played for many years before the advent of the goalie mask...

Parents

Easter dresses, the house on Chevy Chase, La Cañada, California, 1966

Primary Christmas program, 142nd street LDS chapel, Edmonton, Alberta, 1966

A zip through the jungle

Film Post

The Fireman

Charles Chaplin, US, 1916

Anarchy!  As has been often pointed out, Chaplin’s second film for the Mutual Company mostly resembles those earlier, unhinged Keystone films, or some of the crazier Essanays.  In other words this production might not be a move forward, evolutionarily speaking.  It sure is funny, though.  Eric Campbell is a textbook of melodramatic villain gestures—which may just mean heroic gestures, enhanced that much.  Then, here, enhanced that much again.  More is more, and very funny.  We also have fun with that fireman’s pole, with the firemen running in place, the film running backwards, with Albert Austin’s head and that bucket, with that ditch that Campbell keeps falling into.  Look at those long ago Los Angeles streets!  Every film is a documentary, of something or other. 

Edna Purviance is charming, as always, especially with the slightly wayward tinge in her character.  

 

It’s nice how the textbook arson subplot is so happily punctured by the travails of the goatee’d guy whose house is burning down.  Absurdism moves right into the theatre of cruelty as he gets ignored and ignored.  At one point he even starts reading a book.  The power of convention: when her house does eventually go up in flames Edna’s peril actually registers, despite Charlie’s easy climb up, and the obvious fact that he’s carrying a dummy on the way down.  Chaplin is such a beautiful actor that you believe in and care about his collapse at the end.   

 
How gratifying when he turns out to have been faking, and steals off with the girl.  After all the knockabout, the film’s conclusion is as tiny and tender as the end of The Immigrant.

Best copies available on Image Entertainment’s 90^th Anniversary edition of Chaplin’s Mutual Comedies (2006) 

The Infernal Cake-Walk

Georges Meliés, France, 1903

The fun these people are having is powerfully palpable, and it’s all communicated to the viewer too.  Not just fun, but well crafted fun.  The establishment of the situation (those flats!), the themes that are played thereupon, the single turns and the group routines are all beautifully paced and presented.  As often, the frame is full to the point of eye-popping.  How do they do those flames?  And by the way, it turns out that Meliés invented the musical!  The dancing is superb, and Sosin’s score brings it wonderfully alive.  Black face, notice.  Get a load of the devil’s legs!  

 

 He gets dismembered and reassembled, for good measure.  The key to the whole thing may be the provocatively, sweetly anomalous contrast between the hellish setting and the wholesome fun that’s going on there.  Just delightful.

Available on Flicker Alley/Film Preservation Associates' monumental 2008 dvd set, Georges Meliés: First Wizard of Cinema (1896-1913).  One hundred and seventy-three films, seven hundred and eighty two minutes, all prepared with love and heroism by Eric Lange and David Shepherd (who gave me my first film job).

Where we're from

U of A Hospital

Glendale Adventist

Mountainview, Payson

Good books

Paddle to the Amazon, Don Starkell, 1987

Here’s a true story about a recently divorced dad who doesn’t want to lose touch with his teenaged boys.  So he takes them on a canoe trip from Winnipeg all the way down to the Amazon River.  Wholesome family activities!  Demonstrates how important it is to push ourselves to the limit, which after all was Captain Ahab’s point.

There Are No Children Here, Alex Kotlowitz, 1991

Some of us who have it easy are pretty critical of those who have it tough.

            

Sharon

The Candy Shop War, Brandon Mull, 2007

This book is about some kids whose town gets a new candy store.  The kids meet the owner and she introduces them to some special candy.  Complications follow.  The book is exciting and a great page-turner.

Spencer

 My Side of the Mountain, by Jean Craighead George, 1959

The main character in this book is Sam Gribley, a young boy who decides to run away and live in the woods.   

 

This is an exciting book with lots of adventurous encounters.  (I especially liked the part with the hunters.)  You won’t want to put it down until you’re finished, and then you’ll want to read it again. 

Matt

The Tale of Despereaux, Kate DiCamillo, 2003

This book is about a mouse that goes to a dungeon to rescue a princess.  

It’s about a lot of other things too.  For instance, a rat falls into the queen’s soup, which makes her have a heart attack, and she dies.  The king then abandons soup.  You should read this book.  It has lots of fun surprises.

Claire

Christmas Eve, 2009

Preparation, party.  Also, a compound process, and its duration...



 Music: JS Bach, Brandenburg Concerto #6, movements 1 and 3
            Tafelmusik, 1994

From the archives

Wednesday, December 31, 2008: We are thinking of Caitlin, drawing to the close of her Ecuadorian adventure.  Drew is still working on those college applications.  The rest of us, along with neighbours Christopher and Madeline, drive up the canyon to the city’s Jolley's Ranch yert.  Sarah gets some cross-country skis, while the rest of us don snowshoes.  That went well!  Everyone is brave and cheerful, and the shared activity reveals individual things about each personality.  I liked all the lung-expansion.  There were Canadian echoes, of rich and varied winter experiences, of even more basic sights and sounds and sensations.  Past, yes, but also today.  Very gratifying.  That was a stoat, they all insisted, and some definite moose prints. 

From there we went over to the sledding hill.  They’ve got a couple of good runs going there.  Our best moment was when the Taylors went down, upended themselves, and Madeline rode the rest of the way down on Christopher’s head.  “I scraped my face, I think,” he said, all scored and livid.  

As evening falls Sarah is off to the Jensens' house.  Drew goes to a movie with with Mary.  We drop Spencer at Allan's for a sleepover.  The homebodies watch Muppets Take Manhattan.  Sharon falls asleep.  At midnight the kids go and ring the doorbell, then go sweetly to bed.  The girls get back.  Drew likes her friends, and she likes being with them.  She also might be a fundamentally solitary—reflective, self-sufficient, only semi-sociable—person.  Sarah is not too pleased.  Apparently they were going to watch a horror movie, but it somehow turned into an ad hoc fireside, complete with youth-provided inspirational thoughts.  Party!

Friday, January 1, 1999: Sharon has prepared our now traditional breakfast—German pancakes, insufficiently appreciated by Christmas-sated kids.  The Rose Bowl is on TV.  Formerly a source of mystification, I now appreciate the sunny recollections that it summons. 

Sharon takes kids 1-4 to a movie in Spanish Fork.  Matt bounces a lot in his jumper.  I hold him a lot too.  He’s a squirmy, cuddly, serenely smiling boy.  I read too: Dickens’ Our Mutual Friend—can it be ten years since I’ve read him?  I’d forgotten the breadth of invention, the big laughs and sweet stabs of sentiment.  I’ve forgiven the contrivances and coincidences as well.  Who did I think I was, anyway?  More than one way to mow the lawn, I’ve discovered.

The family returns.  The middle kids construct a big fort in the basement bedroom.  Caitlin and I look up the the text of Dylan Thomas’s A Child’s Christmas in Wales on the web.  We read it together.  She’s a bright listener—we especially like the part about the snowmen and the tea.  I find the end to be quite affecting, given our own falling holy darkness, and the technology-assisted memory forming with it.  After that we all watch the 1987 adaptation on TV.  Lovely.

Dan Austin and Steve Olpin come over to watch Dan’s new film about biking across the country.  Rough.  Good.  Sharon has cleaned things gleamingly.  What a nice place she’s put together.  Steve hooks our new camera to the TV, and we watch our first home video.  It’s excellent—personalities strikingly revealed, capably captured.  I’m inept, if not a Luddite, but here in one day are two clear instances of machines making life richer.