Just some notes

Tonight we went to an art opening downtown. Our dear real estate agent is the president of the Art Association. He asked us to come. He said there would be a nice set up of cheese and fruit (he knows me).

I always think we don't know anyone around here, having lost most of our friends from the school days of our children. And I feel extremely alienated among the upper-class Trump voters who are the culture vultures here. But in a small town, one knows many people. Even recluses like Tom and me. The artist for instance: he is excellent and I have long admired his work. But I have a little spot of resentment, from something almost 20 years ago. The artist is somehow affiliated with the Benedictine Monastery nearby. I was teaching a Shakespeare course  at the seminary college there. He and another older fellow sat in on the first two sessions--looking extremely bored and almost contemptuous. They threw me off my stride. Of course, they voted with their feet and never returned...

I saw two people we know from school. And a very good artist/teacher who retired some time ago. From afar, I saw a New Orleans cultural bigwig, who always surprises me--he remembers me from a brief period when he ran an Arts Administration program at our school. That memory for people must be why he is so good at his job--in the stratosphere of New Orleans musical culture.

Best of all, I ran into a former student--she is about my age. She must have been in my class more than 20 years ago. A few years ago, I saw one of her pieces in a gallery. It was outstanding! And then there she was. I was surprised that she remembered me. And she was surprised that I remembered her. I run into  her now and again.

Tonight she asked me when I planned to retire. I must have started stuttering...something or other. She told me I should rechannel my creativity and recommended a book called "The War of Art," which is about overcoming resistance to creativity. She suggested that I teach something at the Art Association in retirement. And recommended that I start journaling. Hence this little piece of writing.

I mentioned that idea to my pal the President of the Art Association. He said "Why not do something on poems that are about works of art, like "Ozymandias?" This guy is a fount of unexpected knowledge. We told him that such poems are called "ecphrastic." He is always happy to learn a new word (we had a little tiff recently about the meaning of "penurious"--we were both right.)

I remembered an essay that blew me away in college: "Ecphrasis and the Still Moment of Poetry, or Laocoon Revisited" by Murray Krieger. I found the article because it was mentioned in a footnote in a book by Rosalie Colie, a critic whose works taught me so much about how to read and set me on a path to studying the English Renaissance. Those kind of accidental discoveries--in footnotes, in a book NEXT TO the book you were seeking on a library shelf--were the hallmark of my studies in the days before the internet. And thank God for that, because my students tend to do internet searches for the EXACT thing they are writing on, and seldom if ever wander down the meandering paths of literature and essays on literature . . .  and on other things.

So Ozymandias, Ode on a Grecian Urn, the shield of Achilles, that poem by Auden about the Brueghel painting ("Musee des Beaux Arts")--I'm sure I'll think of some others.

Thanks to Maggie for setting me down this meandering path of memory.

Dismantling a Household: Advice Needed

Though I wrote a bit on the happy event of Frugal Son getting a job and setting up a mini-household in a tiny New Orleans apartment, I did not write about a sad event. The death--not unexpected, but devastating nonetheless--of my much-loved and esteemed father-in-law.

He lived in northern California, near his daughter, in a house full of memories and mementoes of 45 years in a big house in Pasadena. Now, in addition to the emotional issues, we have to face the issues both emotional and pragmatic of what we will take. The other children--in the same town and in Seattle--have already taken their chosen objects.

Nothing is valuable in a monetary sense. But my in-laws were great makers and collectors of objects: handmade crafts of my mother-in-law (some of whose sweaters I posted in the early days of this blog), furniture built by my father-in-law, plus collections of bells, glassware, etc etc.

And the books! My father-in-law, an English professor, had, I would say, one of the most beautiful minds I have ever encountered. He also had a house full of books: poetry, music theory, and Roman history make up the bulk of it. Do I need to mention that Mr FS shares his father's profession and love of the first two categories.

Mr FS will have to go through the process of deciding what to take and what to leave behind. Does anyone have any advice--even a reference to some good books on the topic--of how to deal with the pragmatics of moving many small and a few largish objects?

Any words of experience would be much appreciated.

Reframing and Frugality: Root Canal

Ergh. I DO need a root canal. Of course I need it before July 1, when my medical savings account gets replenished.

A long while ago, Shelley wrote a post on reframing and happiness: the gist was that you need to reframe bad, challenging events as opportunities, or something along those lines. Her specific example had to do with taxes. I totally agree: when I was a starving student, I couldn't wait to pay income tax.

Let's try reframing the root canal: I am so lucky that I have enough in my emergency fund to pay for this thing without compromising my trip to Nantes.

I glanced up from my screen and saw this book: Frame Analysis.

Aren't I lucky that I already have this book because it's kind of expensive?

Not sure if this is working. Have you reframed anything lately?

Sic Transit Gloria Mundi: Selling Academic Books

I keep meaning to gradually de-accession my huge collection of books, many bought during my years in graduate school. If I work till I'm 65, say (I wish, I wish), I should get rid of about 10% of my books per year. Every now and again, I check the value of a book on Amazon, and think, oh boy, a pretty penny awaits.

For instance, I have this book somewhere.

And this one.

It's so hard to say good-bye to these books. I remember my sense of awe and wonder during those years, along with a panicked feeling that I might never find employment.

Today, however, I realized that my vast collection may, in fact, be mostly worthless. The English Club had a book sale. At the end of the day, a big FREE BOOKS sign was put up.

Many books were donated by a recently-retired colleague. Many of the books he donated were ones Mr. FS and I owned, staples of the graduate student/professor library of days gone by, the days of THEORY. No one wanted the books.

I didn't take them, since we already own them. How do these fare on the open market?


or this?

How depressing! That one doesn't even get a picture! This one was required reading.

Oh, it's all too depressing. But I do need to declutter. The vision (mental only, since I did not participate) of my in-laws getting rid of a 50 year collection of books is so painful. Mr. FS spent his last week in his childhood home packing boxes of books and taking the rejects to Goodwill, which rejected them.

Perhaps it is fate that I picked up this poorly-written tome recently for a quarter.

Strangely, this one seems to be worth more than some of the academic books. I could sell my copy for $2.64.

What lessons should I draw from all this?

Used Clothing in the Sixteenth Century

In the United States, once an article of clothing or a toy is taken out of the store, it depreciates by about 98%.

It was not always so. Here are the findings of Andrew Gurr, who writes on Shakespeare.

A pair of silk stockings might cost £2 or £4, depending on the quality and purchaser. A woman's gown might cost anything from £7 to £20 or more. The Earl of Leicester* paid £543 for seven doublets and two cloaks, at an average cost for each item rather higher than the price Shakespeare paid for a house in Stratford.

I got this paragraph from a wonderful book by Ann Jones and Peter Stallybrass called Renaissance Clothing and the Materials of Memory.

They detail the value of used clothing in the Renaissance marketplace. An amazing reminder of relative value and shifting value(s).