The Post Where I Share My Poetry.

The Welsh peninsula makes England look like it's nine months pregnant.  I'm just say-in'

The green covered mountains of Wales come out of a story book.  The winding roads, the tree covered hills and deserted castles seem as though they were written, not carved into existence.  The lush landscape has inspired many writers throughout the ages including my favorite Welsh author, Richard Llewellyn.  Llewellyn was inspired to write his novel, "How Green Was My Valley," because he saw his once beautiful homeland become a slave to coal.

Coal mining and the conquering of Wales by Edward I (known of the first prince of Wales) are the historical events most people associate with Wales.  While coal mining and the subjugation of the Welsh people are important aspects of their history, these events fail to capture the true spirit of the Welsh.  The lush mountains, which contain natural treasures like coal and grass for pasture, allowed the Welsh to develop a distinct culture.

How can you not find this serene?

When the Angles and the Saxons invaded Britain in the late 7th and early 8th century, they were unable to conqueror the people living in Wales.  The mountains proved a formidable barrier and a beautiful refuge for the surviving Celts.  This isolation allowed the Welsh to develop a separate language, culture and identity from the Celts living under Anglo/Saxon rule.  During the "Dark Ages," the Welsh identity emerges in stark contrast to the Anglicized Celts. 

Wales remained independent of England until the 13th century and was unified by Gruffudd ap Llywelyn, the great-great grandson of Rhodri The Great, who defeated the Vikings in 856 AD.  After Llywelyn's death in 1063, Wales was ripped apart by rival factions.  These wounds would never heal and two centuries later Wales would become part of England.  The years of isolation, however, cemented the Welsh identity that remains as long as the mountains stand.

In honor of Wales and her history, I wrote a poem.  I hope you enjoy!

            Decay, pallid clouds hover, a dreary mist, a pungent odor wet and corroded,

            I, once glorious and green, moans, shrieking, chiseling, hammering,

            The mine within in me, now a hollow memory.

            Millions of years, I was molded by the earth,

            Out of the dust I rose and witnessed the greatness and sorrows of her people,

            The Celts tamed the mountain ranges, filled the valleys with song and traversed the seas,

            Romans, Angles, Saxons and Normans raided the countryside,

            The Romans established Caerwent and Carmarthen,

            The Angles, Saxons, and Normans purged the countryside of her honor.

           

            Out of the darkness a great kingdom,

            Gruffudd ap Cynan and his son Owain surrounded me with greatness,

            Poetry, music filled my ears,

            Life replaced death, knowledge replaced ignorance.

            My earth was tainted once more,

            Succession struggles, King John’s interference,

            Lamentations, Lamentations,

            Llewellyn ap Gruffudd conquers all of Wales,

            Lamentations, Lamentations, Death, Demise,

            Edward II, 1284, rummaged and rampaged, scourged and raped my soil.

            Wales, promised a king who was born in Wales and spoke no English,

            In return, gained a royal, Edward

           

            1586, full union did occur with England,

            Wales, laws, customs and language threatened,

            Goodbye Gwynedd, goodbye Llywelyn,

            Goodbye Kings of old, rest in peace,

            May your voices carry over the mountains and fill the people with your spirit.

            Coal, discovered, in my bowels,

            Wrenching, blinding pain,

            Frenzied picks, axes, clanging, clamoring, digging through my intestines,

            Sludge fills my face and corrupts my soul,

            What was once green, is now dead, dead…

            Now I am alone, except for the trapped souls within me,

            Their songs, their energy, their joys and sorrows, entombed in my labyrinth.

            At night I can hear voices, haunting and taunting my sorrows.

            My bare stomach growls, I look to the moon and weep.

           

The Crusades

"I think we're lost.  Maybe we should ask this nice Saracen for directions?"

Below is a link to the blog, "Grateful to the Dead," (love the pun) written by a church historian and professor from Bethel Seminary in St. Paul, Minnesota.  He gives a concise, informative and well rounded account of the Crusades during the Middle Ages.  Enjoy!

http://gratefultothedead.wordpress.com/2010/11/17/the-crusades-step-by-step-through-a-spectacular-mess/

I'm Baking Not Writing!

Me, after I finish baking pies!  It reads, "Her life was short, but she died with plenty of butter."

Thursday, November 25 is Thanksgiving.  Instead of writing a blog entry, I'm busy making pecan and pumpkin pies for my relatives.  Why did I volunteer to make pies?  I claim insanity.  Also, store bought pies just don't cut it.  Please think of me when you bite into your pumpkin pie or nibble on your croissant.  While I'm on holiday (I like pretending I'm British), please read my previous posts.  Have a wonderful Thanksgiving.    

Tea at Trianon: Blessed Karl and the First World War

Charles, the Holy Roman Emperor and family

War isn't my thing. Blood, guts and the thought of death never appealed to me.  Instead, I focus on other aspects the religious and social aspects of history. Oddly enough when I tell people I majored in history, they always ramble on about this battle or that. Memorizing battles isn't history. Instead, history comes from the individuals who lived it and their interpretations. For the past couple weeks, however, I've wanted to write another article on World War I. Not about the battles, but the people. The blog "Tea at Trianon," has a wonderful article about the Holy Roman Emperor, Charles, desperately seeking a peace treaty with the Allies during World War I. Unfortunately, Charles failed in his gallant attempt and "the rest they say, is history."

Tea at Trianon: Blessed Karl and the First World War

A Good Book With a Bad Cover.

"Never judge a book by it's cover."~ American Proverb

My husband is at it again!  Yesterday while I was watching the latest Harry Potter film, my husband used one of his gift cards at Barnes and Noble.  Usually I feel safe when my husband is at the bookstore, instead of the hardware store (my husband thinks he can fix things, bless his little heart).  Now I can't trust him in either place.  I know what you're thinking, "how can purchasing a book be so horrible?"  Well, crack...

That's right, crack.  When your spouse purchases a book that is more addicting than crack; there's a problem.  The crack, I mean book, which my husband purchased is called, "American Grace:  How Religion Divides and Unites Us" by Robert Putanam and David Campbell, both of whom are political science professors at major universities.

The US Surgeon General warns that this book is more addicting than crack.

Books are my crack and my husband knows this all to well.  Once I get addicted to a book, life as I know it stops.  The most famous incident involved Ken Follett's book, Pillars of the Earth, which is over a thousand pages long.  I began to read it reluctantly, but soon found myself so engrossed that I didn't go to bed until 2:00 AM.  Having dreamt about the book all night, I called in sick pretending to have a horrible migraine.  Addictions are brutal.  Luckily, I was working at a library and all librarians have struggled with the same addiction.

Putnam's book is a less potent crack, but still addicting.  "American Grace" covers contemporary religious culture in the United States, while exploring the complex dualism in American religion.  According to Putnam's research, Americans are becoming more tolerant of other faiths on a personal level, but more judgmental on the nation level.  In addition to an in-depth analysis of his survey findings and the historic origins of American religion, communal religious experiences are woven throughout the book  Thus, giving the reader a greater understanding of today's religious and political landscape.

 The only bad thing about this book is the cover, which looks like it was ripped off of a 1970's hymnal book.  Yes, it's that bad.  While I normally don't advise leaving the book jacket on (they make books difficult to shelve), don't take it off.  Otherwise, people may open the book expecting the lyrics from Kum ba ya.

I almost forgot, Federal law requires me to disclose if I was paid or received any compensation for reviewing this book.  While my book habit is expensive, I can say proudly that my husband bought this book on his own initiative.  After all, he does have good taste!

Two Nerdy Girls, A Poet and Some Ale...

"Let me tell you a story about a dog named Drunkard."

I discovered an interesting blog last night entitled, "Two Nerdy History Girls."  Both are authors of historic fiction and I just adore their new post, "Praising Ale With John Taylor the Water Poet."  John Taylor wasn't your typical Elizabethan poet.  Born in 1580, he flunked out of grammar school and became a boatmen.  Boatmen were the 16th century's taxis and with London only having one bridge, they received plenty of business.

He was widely published in his day and even retired from ferrying people across the Thames to concentrate on his poetry.  Before today I had no idea who he was, but he's quickly becoming one of my favorite poets!  He wrote about everything from the burning of the Globe theater to the virtues of ale.  The University of Virginia has put a majority of his poems online, but I was unable to find the poem about the dog named "Drunkard" (does anyone have this poem?).  A bit of a warning however, Taylor can be crude and may offend with his poems about drunks and whores.  Then again, how is that any different than contemporary rap music?

The Problem With Being Merry!

"We may look peaceful, but watch out!"

I feel I can't justify giving the Pilgrims only one post.  We only think of them around Thanksgiving and associate them with pumpkin pies, green bean casseroles and a turkey baking in an oven.  The Pilgrims are more than food.  They were devoted to God and left their homeland for the promise of religious freedom.  However, a man named Thomas Morton, would threaten their utopia.

Thomas Morton arrived in what is now Quincy, Massachusetts in 1625, shortly before he was to accompany Captain Wollaston and several men to Virginia.  Morton, however, decided not to go to Virginia.  Instead he remained in Massachusetts, removed Wollaston's lieutenant and renamed the existing settlement Merry Mount.  Morton wasn't a religious radical like the Pilgrims.  He was a full-blooded Anglican who openly had intimate relations with native women, celebrated all the old English holidays with lots of drinking and continued the pagan practice of the Maypole.

Merry Mount was a neighboring settlement of Plymouth and instead of having a nice block party in May, an unfortunate and hysterical incident occurred.  Morton nor William Bradford, however, would ever find this story funny and are rolling in their graves as I write.  None the less, historians and authors such as Nathaniel Hawthorne have found this incident funny enough.

The Pilgrims, motivated by jealousy (the Indians preferred trading with Morton over the Pilgrims) and desiring their land not to be corrupted by sinful, pagan behavior, arrested Morton during the annual May Day festival.  Being to drunk to resist, the Pilgrims arrested him and cut down the Maypole.  The only person hurt was one of Morton's men, who was so inebriated he walked into Captain Miles Standish's sword and got a nose bleed.

The May-Pole at Merry Mount

After the arrest, Morton was exiled to the Island of Shoals with nothing more than the clothes on his back.  Luckily for Morton, the Indians took pity on him and feed and clothed him until an English fishing boat would rescue him.  Morton, however, was never one to give up and returned to New England several years later.  The Puritans, hating him even more than the Pilgrims, arrested him, tried him in a court of law and sentenced him first to the stocks and than exile.  The exact charges against Morton are unknown, because even the Puritans knew he wasn't guilty of anything.

When you sit down for your Thanksgiving dinner next Thursday, remember that the Pilgrims, like any other group in history, were a complicated bunch with conflicting desires.  They sought religious freedom and bravely sailed across the ocean to an unknown land.  Their desire for religious freedom, however, only applied to themselves

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Today's Tongue Twister: All Pilgrims Are Puritans, But Not All Puritans are Pilgrims

"See, I'm right.  Pilgrims always have food!"~me

Pilgrims are a fresh pumpkin pie, mashed potatoes and gravy with a hint of turkey dancing through the air.  Thanksgiving, the most gluttonous of all fall feast, is the only time I think of the Pilgrims.  I don't think of them as trailblazers or a highly religious people who desired freedom.  Instead, I think of green bean casseroles and dinner rolls.  I'm not alone in Pilgrim = food association.  In the supermarket, on TV and even my husband's Pilgrim candlesticks are holding food and smiling as though they have no care in the world.

Before I get carried away, I think it may be wise to define some terms.  Pilgrims and Puritans are often confused with one another, even by our nation's leaders.  According to the Pilgrim Hall Museum, both President George Bush (a descendant of a Mayflower passenger) and Ronald Regan confused the Puritans and Pilgrims by calling John Winthrop a Pilgrim (long pause for a hearty laugh). John Winthrop was the leader of the Puritans who founded the Massachusetts Bay Colony in 1630, while William Bradford was the leader of the Pilgrims.

John Winthrop, not to be confused with William Bradford.

Theologically speaking, the Puritans who came to America in 1630 and the Pilgrims in 1620 are very similar.  Unsatisfied with the Anglican church and feeling the Reformation didn't go far enough in England, both wanted to 'purify' the Anglican church with Calvinist ideals.  Calvinists, besides having a dour view on humanity, viewed the Bible not the church hierarchy as the ultimate authority.  Anglican bishops and priests were no better than their Catholic counterparts and the Puritans sought to rid the Church of England of the last vestiges of popery.

William Bradford, not to be confused with John Winthrop.

The Pilgrims who settled on Plymouth Rock, however, were more radical than their Puritan counterparts.  While rejecting the more radical teachings of the Separatist minster Robert Browne, the Pilgrims felt the Anglican church couldn't be purified.  Instead, they separated from the church of England and placed control of church matters into the congregation's hands.  The Puritans disapproved of the congregational model for churches, but eventually adopted this practice from the Pilgrims.

Like their Puritan counterparts, however, the Pilgrims enjoyed a good beer, liked sex and didn't celebrate Christmas (we all have our faults).  Oddly enough, the Pilgrims never gained the poor reputation the Puritans have.  Perhaps it was their small numbers, more tolerant attitudes toward the native populace or the inability of the American populace to differentiate between the two groups.

The Pilgrims cause, however, has been undoubtedly helped by the good press they received for starting the Thanksgiving tradition.  After all, what red blooded American doesn't like a good meal?  Who cares if the Pilgrims were a marginal group desiring religious freedom?  They're associated with green bean casseroles. What else matters?  My advice for anyone seeking redemption for a disenfranchised group is to hire a public relations firm and create a gluttonous holiday.  It's what the Pilgrims would do.

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Confessions of a Color Blind Woman!

Have some wine while you read my blog!

I've been messing with my blog again, which is very dangerous.  I am partially color blind.  Yes, I know it is rare in women, but I've inherited the faulty genes.  Dressing myself and my son in the morning is a challenge, let alone trying to color coordinate my blog.  So I beg you, tell me if the color combination is hideous, so-so, or lovely. 

Who Doesn't Like Food? Anyone?

"Forget Cleopatra, I just wanted Egypt's grain."~ a made up quote from Julius Caesar

The year is 67 AD or CE (common era) for those persnickety about political correctness, and the Roman Emperor is anxiously awaiting the grain shipments from Egypt.  Rome, a metropolis so vast that the surrounding countryside can no longer feed the appetite of the Roman populace, imports most of its wheat.  Importation of wheat from around the Mediterranean, especially from Egypt, was so important that it was controlled by the emperor and his government.  If any problems in the importation of wheat arouse, the government would set price maximums and find other wheat sources.

Adequate grain stores were vital to the health and welfare of Rome, with almost one third of all Roman households receiving a ration of wheat directly from the government.  This wasn't pure altruism on the emperor's part.  Rome was filled with the poor and unemployed.  A starving populace is an emperor's worse nightmare.  Starving people are cranky, who start riots and follow any idiot they can find.  If the idiot and starving populace are successful, the emperor's head is paraded through the streets and grain stores have been broken into.  An ending no one wants, unless your name is Brutus.

It's July 1789 and after a decade of poor wheat harvests the French populace is hungry.  Bread was too expensive for many and a riot ensued.  Perhaps so hungry the rioters mistook the Bastille as a giant baguette, they stormed the infamous prison starting the French Revolution.  As you can see, hungry people are not the sort you mess with.

"See, it does look like a baguette!"~ real quote from me.

The year is 1973 and grain prices are skyrocketing.  President Nixon, in an attempt to appease a disgruntled American populace, discontinues subsidizing farmers who withhold their land for cultivation.  Instead, a new program is created that pays farmers a fixed amount, regardless of the sale price of corn.  Any Roman emperor or French king would have been proud.  Nixon had appeased the masses by supplying an endless amount of corn and soybeans to the American public.

As Julius Caesar ponders why he didn't think of this, cheap food has taken over.  Walmart, Costco and other discount chains flourish across the United States.  After all, what harm is there in cheap food? Well, the food we eat could be killing us.

Lately I have been mesmerized by the book, "The Omnivore's Dilemma" by Michael Pollan.  According to some government regulation, however, I must tell you that I borrowed the book from the library and haven't been paid to review this book.  Instead I have been an irresponsible mother, staying up late to read about chickens eating grubs out of cow pies and compost piles heating barns. 

I know what you're thinking, this book has nothing to do with history or that I am a little strange because I find cow pies interesting.  While I admit that I am fascinated by the littlest of things, food has everything to do with history.  From prehistoric times to the present, the lack of food and who controls it has always been an issue.  Just look at the Irish potato famine.  While Ireland was exporting grain to other countries, millions of peasants were dying or fleeing to the Americas or Australia to avoid starvation.  Not only did other countries refuse aid, they stated that feeding the Irish now would not teach them self sufficiency.  The politics of food have been around for centuries.

Back to the food killing us idea.  While food is in abundance in the United States, the pollution, pesticides and the potential lack of key nutrients, may be killing us.  Fish down stream from farms who use nitrogen fertilizer become androgynous, algae grows uncontrollably in the Mississippi Delta and various strains of bacteria are resistant to antibiotics.  The total human costs have yet to be see, but guessing from the effect on the environment it can't be pretty.

Pollan, likes the idea of organic farming on a local level.  His book gives compelling arguments for this type of agriculture and if it weren't for the price difference, people would be flocking to their local farms for fresher and better tasting meats, fruits, vegetables and grains.  Price and the politics that go with it, however, prevent this from happening. 

Americans are used to cheap food and any threat of rising prices make us angry.  Like clockwork, when the price of some food staple goes up, you see people driving SUVs on the local news complaining how the penny price jump in milk is hurting the poor.  Poor people are easy propaganda tools.  They don't get much air time, plus no one feels sorry for someone driving an SUV or new car.  Simply put, we want cheap food, not for the poor but for ourselves.

I know this hurts, but it's time to face the facts.  A new food system is needed and yes prices will be higher.  Since we are concerned about the poor eating, we should focus on wage stagnation and the disappearance of factory and other semi skilled trades to China and India.  By solving our food problem, we might even save a few bucks on health care and environmental cleanup.  Healthier people, better wages and safer food, now that's a bargain!

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Tea at Trianon: The Prison of Motherhood?

Have some tea.

I feel guilty fellow bloggers. My son is teething and lack of sleep has sapped me of all of my energy. I did find an interesting post from the blog, "Tea at Trianon." She's a mother, very productive blogger and author of several books. Yes, I am jealous. Regardless, this post is referring to an article in the Washington Post about motherhood. I normally don't get excited about different parenting philosophies, because each culture has its own rules and regulations regarding children. As Americans, we tend to obsess and feel guilt. I always go by what feels right and what has worked in the past with my nieces and nephews.

To everyone that reads my blog, don't be hard on mothers or fathers! We are all doing the best we can!

Tea at Trianon: The Prison of Motherhood?