C.H. Lawler's Blog, page 3
December 30, 2014
Tradition and Superstition
In the Saints of Lost Things, during the hurricane, Betsy burns the fronds of palm branches that have been blessed the previous Palm Sunday. This is a fairly common tradition in south Louisiana and other places as well.
Every place has its own set of traditions to one degree or another. Thursday, in the South, most of us will have black-eyed peas for luck in the New Year, and cabbage for wealth in the New Year. This tradition/superstition goes back a long way.
Seriously, I doubt that burning palm leaves will keep a limb off your house or keep you from being blown away by a storm. And the likelihood is low that eating black-eyed peas and cabbage on New Year's Day will improve our fortunes in the New Year.
But these things bind us together; these traditions that we all do are part of our culture. They're part of what makes us, us. And that's reason enough.
Every place has its own set of traditions to one degree or another. Thursday, in the South, most of us will have black-eyed peas for luck in the New Year, and cabbage for wealth in the New Year. This tradition/superstition goes back a long way.
Seriously, I doubt that burning palm leaves will keep a limb off your house or keep you from being blown away by a storm. And the likelihood is low that eating black-eyed peas and cabbage on New Year's Day will improve our fortunes in the New Year.
But these things bind us together; these traditions that we all do are part of our culture. They're part of what makes us, us. And that's reason enough.
December 20, 2014
Latin
Per benignitatem, pacem. More on that later.
In The Saints of Lost Things, I mention the Second Vatican Council, which among other things allowed the Catholic Mass to be celebrated in vernacular (native) languages. I was raised a Methodist and became a Catholic late in life. I call it being a Catholic on a Methodist chassis, but that's neither here nor there. I've never attended a Latin Mass, though I've sat through a few homilies that might as well have been in Latin. I'm not naming any names here.
When my oldest was in high school and deciding which foreign language elective to take, he was leaning to Latin. I was against it. It's rarely spoken which makes it useless in the primary function of language which is of course, flirtation. The secondary functions of language are to get directions to the bus station, order a beer, and ask if Sylvie is in la biblioteque.
He chose Spanish instead of Latin. With all due deference to that ancient language, the granddaddy of 'em all, Latin, it would have been hard to carry on a serious conversation in Latin today. It is good in small doses, which leads me again to a little Latin for you, a holiday wish:
Per benignitatem, pacem.
Peace through kindness.
Merry Christmas.
In The Saints of Lost Things, I mention the Second Vatican Council, which among other things allowed the Catholic Mass to be celebrated in vernacular (native) languages. I was raised a Methodist and became a Catholic late in life. I call it being a Catholic on a Methodist chassis, but that's neither here nor there. I've never attended a Latin Mass, though I've sat through a few homilies that might as well have been in Latin. I'm not naming any names here.
When my oldest was in high school and deciding which foreign language elective to take, he was leaning to Latin. I was against it. It's rarely spoken which makes it useless in the primary function of language which is of course, flirtation. The secondary functions of language are to get directions to the bus station, order a beer, and ask if Sylvie is in la biblioteque.
He chose Spanish instead of Latin. With all due deference to that ancient language, the granddaddy of 'em all, Latin, it would have been hard to carry on a serious conversation in Latin today. It is good in small doses, which leads me again to a little Latin for you, a holiday wish:
Per benignitatem, pacem.
Peace through kindness.
Merry Christmas.
December 14, 2014
On hurricanes
I've lived in Louisiana almost all my life, and in south Louisiana almost half of it. We've weathered Andrew, Katrina, Rita, Gustav, and a couple of others that I can't remember the names of. The bigger ones shut down the power for a week or more, and that was part of the inspiration for The Saints of Lost Things:
How the power suddenly disappears, and then the only sound is nature trying to kill us. If you're like me, there's certainly an awe to it, the trees being pushed around, the sideways rain, things flying through the yard. That part lasts a few hours.
Then it gets hot, and in south Louisiana it gets real hot, vaporizer hot. And we're all left with just one another, little or no electronics. Generators drone everywhere. And everyone checks on each other and shares food and stories and hows-ya-momenem. The food from hoarding freezers is brought out and cooked. After a few days we begin speculating on when the power will come back. We listen on battery powered radios to WJBO or WWL to get updates. After a few more days we stop talking about it altogether, though we still flip light switches on without thinking and without results.
Then one day, word reaches us that line crews are down the street, and then suddenly lights snap on and the AC begins to blow and our lives, our electrified lives, are given back to us. And we are grateful for a few minutes.
In The Saints of Lost Things, Sammy and Betsy spend three idyllic weeks like that. As opposed to us, they have no desire for the power to come back. They're illuminated by each other.
How the power suddenly disappears, and then the only sound is nature trying to kill us. If you're like me, there's certainly an awe to it, the trees being pushed around, the sideways rain, things flying through the yard. That part lasts a few hours.
Then it gets hot, and in south Louisiana it gets real hot, vaporizer hot. And we're all left with just one another, little or no electronics. Generators drone everywhere. And everyone checks on each other and shares food and stories and hows-ya-momenem. The food from hoarding freezers is brought out and cooked. After a few days we begin speculating on when the power will come back. We listen on battery powered radios to WJBO or WWL to get updates. After a few more days we stop talking about it altogether, though we still flip light switches on without thinking and without results.
Then one day, word reaches us that line crews are down the street, and then suddenly lights snap on and the AC begins to blow and our lives, our electrified lives, are given back to us. And we are grateful for a few minutes.
In The Saints of Lost Things, Sammy and Betsy spend three idyllic weeks like that. As opposed to us, they have no desire for the power to come back. They're illuminated by each other.
December 11, 2014
A Land More Kind Than Home
I'm reading Wiley Cash's book, and finding it very intriguing. Mr. Cash has a finely tuned ear for Southern dialog, and I can certainly detect undertones of Flannery O'Connor in his writing. The story builds slowly and surely, and I can't wait to see where it goes. And any book with a character named Stump has got my vote.
The Saints of Lost Things is doing well and has gotten some good reviews. I'm excited anticipating the world getting to know Betsy and Sammy.
The Saints of Lost Things is doing well and has gotten some good reviews. I'm excited anticipating the world getting to know Betsy and Sammy.
