Caedmon

...inspired, no doubt, by the original Caedmon; who was in turn inspired by "The Maker-Man".

Caedmon was an illiterate cowherd of the middle ages who composed many songs of praise. This one, transcribed by a contemporary named Bede, is the only one that survives. It is the earliest documented poem in the English language. No wonder Caedmon has been an inspiration to writers of verse and song through the ages...(and to me as I ponder my empty house and procrastinate completing my final assignment for Friday's class).

Found this information online:

"Caedmon's Hymn to God

(From Old English)
This is the earliest documented oral poem in English history. The Hymn itself was composed between 658 and 680 by Caedmon, who composed it to honour God the Creator. Like many Old English and Anglo-Latin pieces, it was designed to be sung aloud and was never physically recorded by Cædmon himself, who was an illiterate cowherd of the early Middle Ages. However, it was written and preserved by other literate individuals, and was recorded in the earlier part of the 8th century. It survives today in at least 14 verified manuscript copies. It is attributed to Caedmon by Bede in his Historia Ecclesiastica Gentis Anglorum and survives in a Latin translation as well as in vernacular versions written down in several manuscripts of Bede's Historia. Though he was known to have composed a great many other hymns this is Caedmon's only surviving work.

Cædmon's Hymn to God
By Cædmon

Latin Version:
Translated by Bede
(with Modern English from http://www.heorot.dk/bede-caedmon.html copyright Benjamin Slade 2002-3)

Nunc laudare debemus auctorem regni caelestis

Now we ought to praise the maker of the heavenly kingdom

potentiam Creatoris, et consilium illius

the power of the Creator, and his intention

facta Patris gloriae: quomodo ille,

the deeds of the Father of glory: how he,

cum sit aeternus Deus omnium miraculorum auctor exstitit;

since he is the eternal Lord of all miracles has been the author;

qui primo filiis hominum
5
who first for the sons of men

caelum pro culmine tecti

heaven for a roof above

dehinc terram custos humani generis

next, the earth, the keeper of the human-race
omnipotens creavit.

the all-powerful created.

Modern English Version:
translated by A.Z. Foreman
Hail now the holder of heaven's realm,
That architect's might, his mind's many ways,
Lord forever and father of glory,
Ultimate crafter of all wonders,
Holy Maker who hoisted the heavens
To roof the heads of the human race,
And fashioned land for the legs of man,
Liege of the worldborn, Lord almighty.

Old English Version:
translated by A.Z. Foreman
Nū sculon heriġean heofonrīċes weard,
Meotodes meahte ond his mōdġeþanc,
weorc wuldorfæder, swā hē wundra ġehwæs,
ēċe Drihten, ōr onstealde.
Hē ǣrest sceōp eorðan bearnum
heofon tō hrōfe, hāliġ Scyppend;
þā middanġeard monncynnes weard,
ēċe Drihten, æfter tēode
fīrum foldan, Frēa ælmihtiġ."

Follow this link for a video reading of this hymn:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=29v_adW9dn0

Are they trying to make me feel old?

First of all, let me explain...I'm not vain; especially about my age. Still, I have reached the point in my life at which my diminishing eyesight and flexibility are making it near impossible for me to paint my own toenails. I'm also finding it increasing difficult to call to mind the word or name I need just when I need it. Case in point: In '08 when I saw my first Obama bumper sticker and (because of the diminishing eyesight and fried brain thingy) thought it said Osama; I thought "What? What does that mean?" I spent the whole election season sounding like some twit out of an SNL skit as I kept verbally tripping over "Obama-Biden", and endeavoring not to let it come out like "Osama BinLaden". I mean, seriously, try to say that six times quickly. It's a friggin' tongue-twister. Then Obama got elected and I thought "Great! I'm even older than the president now!" But at least Biden was out of the news. Mercifully the press changed Osama's name to Usama when he was executed, or school children for generations would have been stymied by that one. I'm also breathing a sigh of relief that Michele Bachmann has withdrawn from the current presidential race, but I'm just paranoid enough to think that she might show up again as the second name on a Republican bumper sticker for 2012. I'm imagining the challenge to newscasters everywhere reporting stories like the following. "Michelle Obama campaigns for her husband, Barack Obama, as Mitt Romney considers Michelle Backman as a running mate".Perhaps they could warm up the old vocal instrument by reading the bumper stickers six times quickly: "Barack Obama/Romney-Bachmann;Barack Obama/Romney-Bachmann;Barack Obama/Romney-Bachmann;Barack Obama/Romney-Bachmann;Barack Obama/Romney-Bachmann;Barack Obama/Romney-Bachmann;Barack Obama/Romney-Bachmann;..." You see what I mean, right?

you're welcome here

Haste ye back, we love you dearly,
Call again you're welcome here.
May your days be free from sorrow,
And your friends be ever near.
May the paths o'er which you wander,
Be to you a joy each day.
Haste ye back we love you dearly,
Haste ye back on friendship's way.

I attended a small village Ceilidh in Scotland in 1991. At the end of a night of food, drink and dance, when everyone had pitched in to put away chairs and wipe down tables, the men of the town gathered to sing this song to our little group. It was the sweetest send-off ever, and it reminded me of how much we've lost of old world entertainment and hospitality over here in the new world. Apparently it's often sung to departing guests at the end of a party, especially at New Years.
Kinda sweet, right?

ringing out the old

Auld Lang Syne
(Old Long Since, or, Long Ago)

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind ?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and auld lang syne* ?

CHORUS:
For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

(The English version of an old Scots-Dialect song taken down by Robbie Burns, in Scotland, in 1788)

December 31st, traditionally known in Scotland as Hogmanay, is the last night of the old year. It's a time to gather with family and friends to share food and drink as you look back over the past year, and prepare for the next. The house should be spruced up, table set, candles lit, food served, and family and friends of long ago and far away remembered with toasts made and tales told.
As midnight approaches arms are clasped and Auld Lang Syne sung. At the stroke of midnight, bells peal, kisses and hugs are exchanged, and doors are flung open to let in the fresh, cold air of the New Year. Then out everyone pours, into the night, to ring in the New Year with light and noise. Later, as we come back in, the "first footer" (first of the New Year to cross the threshold) receives a gift (a sip of whisky, or a sweet or salty treat).

Now, I'm wondering...when did we decide that our New Year's celebrations had to be costly and distant? When did our fellow celebrants become strangers who had purchased tickets to the same event? When did pop singers start to do our singing and dancing for us? When did New York become the official venue of the New Year? Isn't the world round? Doesn't the New Year still arrive at each of our doorsteps in the fullness of, well, time? Why, then, do we feel so removed as we gaze pathetically from our couches at the lucky pilgrims to Time Square's calendrical mecca? And when, exactly, did the singing of "New York, New York" replace "Auld Lang Syne"? I'm just wondering...

11/11/11/11

Remembrance Day 2011
The 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month
Always Remember
Never Forget

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

by John McCrae, May 1915

open for debate...

Not too long ago, I was working in the other room while my darling husband was flipping back and forth between msnbc and fox news (as usual). Mdh says he gets a more balanced view by seeing what each side says about the same issues. I say it makes me feel as if my head is going to explode. I usually just try to tune out the scream machine at about this point in the four year cycle of bi-polar politics, as I prepare for the inevitable onslaught of the next election season; but something broke through. It was the voice of someone stating simple, obvious, and yet previously unheard things that just made sense. This person was not spouting the usual inflammatory, confrontational, or polarizing rhetoric; and he didn't come off as rude, hateful or arrogant. But the things he said resounded as true.
I heard myself asking, "Who IS that?".
Mdh told me his name was Herman Cain.
"I like him" I said, "He should run for office"
Mdh said, "I think he is".
"Good!What office?"
"President, I think"
"Whoa, nothing like starting at the top! He'd better watch it though; There'll be a target on his back. He'll be fresh meat to the press and the popular kids in D.C. They don't usually like outsiders honing in on their territory."
Today a friend forwarded an email to me listing this man's credentials (which are impressive). I haven't fact-checked it or run it through snopes or anything, so I don't know if it is completely accurate. Doesn"t matter. There's lots of folks out there with impressive resumes that I wouldn't trust with my spare change, let alone the fate of the country. This guy?...Maybe.
I think I'm going to find out more about him. Like, is he a good husband and father? Does he care about others? Is he a self-made man who takes responsibility for his own actions, or was he born to wealth and privilege? Does he blame others for his struggles? Does he think that the best way to get ahead is to put someone else down? Can he work together with those whose views are counter to his own? Does he have a deep respect for life and the institution of the family? Does he understand that the borders of US government extend beyond Washington; or does he look down on people from out west, or up north, or down south? Does he have any idea of the place of America within the global community? The responsibility the powerful have to help the powerless.....
Apparently he spoke in a debate recently. Now I don't usually put much stock in political debates. What they should be is an opportunity to see whose views most closely line up with your own so that you can vote for that person when the time comes. However, the media has convinced us to treat these debates like sporting events that are "won" or "lost" based on the number of jabs each opponent can get in (advantage, of course, going to the younger, cuter, taller guy, simply because he's...well... younger, cuter and taller). All that's missing, to complete the picture, is that microphone descending from the arena ceiling on a long cord at the beginning of the event and the announcer...er...excuse me...mediator grabbing it and opening with, "Let's Get Ready To RUMBLE!..." (and maybe a few Vegas-type girls in sequins and stilettos sashaying around with score cards). Of course the media also puts their own spin on everything using camera angles, strategic cut-aways and "thoughtful analysis" to tell us what we saw and what we heard. The color commentators lay it out for us clearly so that we understand who's in and who's out based on a very complicated PC pecking order that we wouldn't be able to figure out on our own, but which is designed to maintain the status quo at all costs. As an audience, we are unwittingly placed in the uncomfortable role of European judges, scoring the competitors according to a pre-determined ranking that favors the hometown hero (IE. the candidate chosen by the network broadcasting the event).
Still, I think I'll try to find this one online and watch it anyway;, just because I want to hear this guy speak again.
Maybe on C-SPAN, though.
A little less spin, a little more span.
Wait...darn it! It looks like they didn't cover it.
Hmmm, I guess he's not their hometown hero.
Okay, then, I'm stuck with the networks cutting and pasting what was said into a seamless symphony of soundbites that conveys their own version of reality.
Arghh! Why can't I find the entire unedited version online? Is it a space issue? Isn't the internet, well, world-wide? Anyways, if you're more successful than me at finding it, please send me the link.
Otherwise it looks like we're stuck with the usual suspects:
(deep sigh)
http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/44859731/ns/today-today_news/t/cain----plan-seize-spotlight-debate/
or
http://www.foxnews.com/topics/politics/herman-cain.htm

Best Cain quote so far:
"History isn't necessarily a predictor of the future."

fear of posting

My firstborn started me blogging before abandoning me for college. I blame her for my current addiction to blogging. I am now the proud owner of a bevy of blogs, a virtual deluge of drafts, and tons of titles for possible future posts. I blame myself for the fact that I seem to suffer from a paralyzing fear of actual posting. It seems as if everything could use just one more edit. Part of my problem stems from the fact that it takes me time to formulate my thoughts, and then to search for the perfect word to fit each thought. However, as the years roll by I find that the old brain gets duller and retrieving the exact word I need, when I need it, becomes more and more difficult. I've always wanted to write. How frustrating that now that I actually have the time to do so, the words have become more and more illusive. There's a word for that...what is it? Oh yeah - irony. So many of my drafts are pock marked with gaps awaiting the future insertion of lost words. Still, I find the blank page to be a patient listener; and not in any way judgemental. In any case, all of these issues make me ill equipped for the art of the snappy comeback which is so often required in witty conversation. This leaves me four options: 1.) Stand there gape-mouthed, 2.) Think while responding, then try to talk myself out of the hole I've dug, with my random thoughts and poorly chosen words, as they stand there gape-mouthed, 3.) Write down the smart retorts I should have made, while writing lies in my journal later that day, or 4.) Awake redfaced with shame the next morning as the realization of what was actually being communicated dawns on me with the light, and I realize that I was so busy thinking about what I was going to say about what was being said, that I didn't actually hear what was said (until now). Are you beginning to understand my fear of just blurting blogsful of random thoughts. Thus the desire to let time and thoughtful editing prevent me from saying something stupid in public. Of course, as a back up plan you, dear reader, should always feel free to correct me if I'm wrong (which happens from time to time...I cannot lie...except to my journal...which is sure to be very confusing to my descendants). Anyway, if I ever get past this pervasive posting paranoia, the accumulated dam of repressed drafts will break, and cyberspace won't know what hit it. Until then, please be patient. I'll try to keep you posted...