The There There Letter: Marmalade, Murmuration, and Malarkey
The "Dog Days of Summer." July 3 to August 11. The hottest days of the season. The Romans called them "dies caniculares" or "days of the dog star," now simplified to "dog days."
(woodcut art by Stephen Huneck)
DAH is me, David Anthony Hance.
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First up this week: Marmalade …
I love Paddington. I have two Paddington teddy bears. One in iconic blue trench coast, and one in yellow mac. And I love marmalade. There's a sweet video of the dear bear with the late Queen Elizabeth II.
Paddington asks the Queen, "Perhaps you would like a marmalade sandwich?" He pulls one from his hat and says, "I always keep one for emergencies." The Queen replies, "So do I" — revealing a sandwich of her own in her purse. "I keep mine in here. For later." In our Woodland home (pre-BrownHouse), we had wonderful citrus in the garden. And made lovely marmalade. Alas, all in the past.
Second up this week, Murmuration …
"Just before dusk, small groups of starlings from the same area come together above a communal roosting site. The group grows ever larger, moving in unison in an aerial dance that casts gorgeous shapes against the waning daylight." (Wildlife Trust for Lancashire, Manchester and North Merseyside)
Murmuration of starlings. This plural usage dates to 1486 (Book of St Albans). Don't be blaming the more recent James Lipton and his lovely An Exaltation of Larks. There's much joy to take in collective nouns. And they keep coming. English etymologist Susie Dent reports "a foothurt of Lego." I find that quite sweet (and painful).
Third up this week, Malarkey …
Nobody is certain of malarkey's word origin. Most seem clear that it's been in use since the 1920s. "… insincere or pretentious talk or writing designed to impress one and usually to distract attention from ulterior motives or actual conditions" (Merriam-Webster). I'm sure we can all agree that there's a lot of malarkey shared by public figures these days. Or else we're confident that the opponents of our favored figures spout only malarkey. It often feels like we're suffering "an unmitigation of malarkey." And, no, I didn't lift that from An Exaltation of Larks. I now seek the anti-malarkey. A sort of mental-body-armor I'm always hoping to stumble upon.
A book with a useful table of contents …
Friendship in the age of Loneliness, by Adam Smiley PoswolskySubtitled an optimist's guide to connection. "This book reminds us that nurturing old and new friendships is a ritual, a necessity, and one of the most worthwhile things we can do in life" (from the back cover).
It's a gentle and pleasant read. I found the storytelling already dated (pandemic-written). And there's little narrative flow from section to section. There are plenty of good ideas about creating and maintaining friendships. All show in the table of contents. That table of contents is a checklist of friendship actions one might take. One could use the table of contents list and reference the greater text only for explanation.
And a bit more …
"When we got to the beach "by Hollie McNish
i screamed
sprinted to the sea
flung off shoes and socks
ran towards imagined heaving waves
and jumped each tiny trickle that I found there
with just the same excitement
you stayed back
took your socks off more timidly
giggled at your stupid mother
eventually took my hand
we jumped together
and we jumped together
and we jumped together
three hours later
collapsing on our backs
we made angels in the sand
the seaside always made me
want to scream
now
with you
i can
And that's all for this week.
From Mary Oliver's "Sometimes"
Instructions for living a life:Pay attention.Be astonished.Tell about it.
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