Teasdale & Eliot, Begin & End

"There will come a time
when you believe everything is finished.
That will be the beginning."

from Lonely on the Mountain
by Louis L'Amour (1908 – 1988)

As I mentioned on my earlier post,
"Body Image, Again and Still,"
I keep mixing up the following two passages.
You can see why:

1. Sara Teasdale
"Nothing is ever ended, everything only begun"

and

2. T. S. Eliot:
"to make an end is to make a beginning"

Thus I am creating here a permanent reminder:

1.
At Midnight
Now at last I have
come to see what life is,

Nothing is ever ended,
everything only begun,

And the brave victories
that seem so splendid

Are never really won.

Even love that I built
my spirit's house for,

Comes like a brooding
and a baffled guest,

And music and men's praise
and even laughter

Are not so good as rest.

by Sara Teasdale (1884 - 1933)
from Flame and Shadow, 1920

2.
"For last year's words belong to last year's language
And next year's words await another voice . . .
What we call the beginning is often the end
And to make an end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we start from . . .
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time."

~T.S. Eliot
From "Little Gidding"(Parts II & V)

From "Little Gidding" (Part V)

What we call the beginning is often the end
And to make and end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we start from. And every phrase
And sentence that is right (where every word is at home,
Taking its place to support the others,
The word neither diffident nor ostentatious,
An easy commerce of the old and the new,
The common word exact without vulgarity,
The formal word precise but not pedantic,
he complete consort dancing together)
Every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning,
Every poem an epitaph. And any action
Is a step to the block, to the fire, down the sea's throat
Or to an illegible stone: and that is where we start.
We die with the dying:
See, they depart, and we go with them.
We are born with the dead:
See, they return, and bring us with them. . . .

With the drawing of this Love and the voice of this
Calling

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time. . . .

Red, White, and Wheelbarrow

How about a teal wheelbarrow
with red tomatoes?!

The Red Wheelbarrow

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens

~ William Carlos Williams (1883 – 1963)
See also "Landscape with the Fall of Icarus"
and Fault in Our Stars

Aidan a couple of summers ago ~ see April.

It was so sad to see these American poetry clues
go unanswered or incorrectly answered in the
Jeopardy Tournament of Champions:

1. William Carlos Williams’ “The Red ?this?”
was inspired by the sight of one surrounded
by white chickens in a backyard?
[Wheelbarrow]

2. Langston Hughes’ “Harlem” asks,
“What happens to a dream deferred? . . .
Maybe it sags like a heavy load.
Or does it” ?do this?
[Explode]

There ya go Jeopardy "Champions,"
I did your homework for you!

Last August (2025)
there was a question about the word
for both a copy of an ancient Grecian urn
and the means of human propagation.
Not one of the three so - called champs could come up with REPRODUCTION!

And then a week later
no one could guess
OUR BODIES OURSELVES.

Are we surprised?

See comments here for a
running list of worriesome knowledge gaps!

Memoirs and Mysteries

"When I'm rich, my mother'll have a garden and a gardener . . .
And we'll have champagne every evening when she's tired . . .
champagne and a gardener!" (71)

Memoirs and Mysteries
on my recent posts:

May: Memoirs in May

June: Bloomsday

July: Summer Sleuthing

@Kitti's List

Family History Project

Now is the Time!

Gathering as much information as I can
concerning the not yet forgotten relatives.

See my recent posts:

Family History #1:
Lindsey & Haddix

Family History #2:
Hartman

Family History #3:
Shank & Heideman
Birkinbine & Miller

Family History #4:
Catherine Shank

@The Fortnightly Kitti Carriker
A literary blog of connection & coincidence;
custom & ceremony

Midsummer

Midsummer
traditionally celebrated
a few days after the Solstice,
especially if you count May Day
as the beginning of summertime

Rain Light

All day the stars watch from long ago
my mother said I am going now
when you are alone you will be all right
whether or not you know you will know
look at the old house in the dawn rain
all the flowers are forms of water
the sun reminds them through a white cloud
touches the patchwork spread on the hill
the washed colors of the afterlife
that lived there long before you were born
see how they wake without a question
even though the whole world is burning

W. S. Merwin
(September 30, 1927 – March 15, 2019)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A May Crown
for our Lace House Ghost

Happy Days in the Garden

Fathers Of

"LA FÊTE A PAPA"
A Sweet French Father's Day Greeting
& Le Bon Marché ~ advertising card
Thanks to my friend Jes for this little treasure!

Sons Of
Sung by Judy Collins

Sons of the sea, sons of the saint
Who is the child with no complaint;
Sons of the great or sons unknown
All were children like your own
The same sweet smiles, the same sad tears
The cries at night, the nightmare fears
Sons of the great, sons unknown
All were children like your own

Sons of tycoons, or sons from the farms
All of the children ran from your arms
Through fields of gold, through fields of ruin
All of the children vanished too soon
In towering waves, in walls of flesh
Amid dying birds trembling with death
Sons of tycoons, sons from the farms
All of the children ran from your arms

Sons of your sons, sons passing by
Children were lost in lullaby
Sons of true love, sons of regret
All of your sons you can never forget
Some build the roads, some wrote the poems
Some went to war, some never came home
Sons of your sons, sons passing by
Children were lost in lullaby

Written by Jacques Brel (1929 - 1978),
Eric Blau, Gérard Jouannest, & Mort Shuman

The Irony of Racism vs Race

A. C. Grayling (b 1949)
on amazon / pdf

A Meditation for Juneteenth

"Almost everywhere one looks among present societies, race and racism make angry welts and deep wounds on the body politic. It is an irony that although racism is a reality, and a harsh one, race itself is a fiction. The concept of race has no genetic or biological basis. All human beings are closely related to one another, and at the same time each human being is unique. Not only is the concept of race entirely artificial, it is new; yet in its short existence it has, like most lies and absurdities current among us, done a mountain of harm. . . . But advances in genetics have demolished such taxonomies, by taking DNA [and species] as the criterion of classification. . . . ‘Race has no basic biological reality,’ says Professor Jonathan Marks of Yale University; ‘the human species simply doesn’t come packaged that way.’ Rather, race is a social, cultural and political concept based on superficial appearances and historical conditions, largely those arising from encounters with other peoples as Europe developed a global reach, with the slavery and colonialism that followed.

. . . The physical diversity of human populations today is purely a function of geographical accidents of climate and the isolation of wandering bands. The distinctions which have since been drawn between peoples are therefore arbitrary and superficial, even those relating to skin colour – for as a moment’s attention shows, there is simply no such thing as ‘white’, ‘black’ or ‘yellow’ people; there are people with many shades and types of skin, making no difference to any other aspect of their humanity save what the malice of others can construct."

~From Sections 68 & 69

Bloomism For Bloomsday

Happy Bloomsday to All!

Check out this mystery
~ and review in The Guardian ~
for numerous fun allusions to James Joyce's Ulysses.
Quirke even sees a "lanky-looking galoot
in a gabardine raincoat" (148).
[also on KL]

Bloomsday Eve

Back in April ~ on Jeopardy!

My brother gave an excellent guess:
"What is the destruction
of Martello Tower #3 in Quebec City?"

And so close, he nearly had it: " . . . the cedar-shingled roof of Martello Tower #3 was destroyed by fire on June 6, 1857 by fire and replaced with a metal roof. The tower was demolished in 1904 to make way for a hospital pavilion."

Appropriately, a Martello - themed answer -- about Canada rather than Ireland -- constitutes a classic "Bloomism", which is "a term coined by scholar Richard Ellmann to describe a characteristic mental habit of Leopold Bloom in James Joyce’s Ulysses: 'an uneasy but scrupulous recollection of a factual near-miss.' It refers to moments when Bloom accurately recalls the gist or context of a fact, name, or phrase, but gets the specific detail slightly wrong, resulting in a funny or almost-correct error."

Previously on Bloomsday . . .

Update 2025:
The Forty Foot & The Martello Tower

Raise High the Roof Beam

Flag Day

One Week Later

Remember the shed,
back in the winter . . .

Gerry's summer DIY project:
raising the roofline

Not really raising the roof
so much as straightening the sides
for more airspace inside
and flat wall space instead of slanted,
more useful for hanging things.

Built in workbenches.
New doors and windows to follow.

"Raise high the roof beam, carpenters.
Like Ares comes the bridegroom,
taller far than a tall man."
~ Sappho ~
(c. 630 – c. 570 BC)~
[see fragment 27]

See also J. D. Salinger
(1919 – 2010)

Francis Howell Graves

Our Band Teacher
Albert Pool McCune
Thanks to Donna for the photo.

A story shared on Facebook back in 2010
by classmate and band member Lee Graves
Lee: Years ago, driving from Weldon Spring back to Kansas City, I decided I would stop and see where Mr. McCune was buried. I knew the city but that was all. I stopped at the first cemetery I came to and got out and roamed around. After a while I saw a stone across the cemetery engraved with a staff and some notes, so I headed that way. It was his. I hummed the notes, and it was the Francis Howell Alma Mater, which I knew he had written. At that "very serious" moment thanks to your brother the only words that came to my mind were:

Francis Howell we salute you,
you have broken all our dreams.
You have woken us from slumber
at four to march through streams.
We'd march behind a team of horses
just for good old you.
But don't you mind if we're behind,
they call us "Francis Who?"

Kitti: Yes, my brother Bruce & some of his friends (tubas!) came up with those lyrics! Mr. McCune was so tolerant of our high-jinks; he wrote the original music and Mr. T wrote the lyrics, all very serious.

I think these are the real words; can anyone verify? (Donna, Bruce, Cyndee, Cheryl, Eric?) I looked thru a couple of yearbooks and graduation programs, because I know the words are printed in there somewhere, but I didn't come across them. So here's my best shot:

Francis Howell we salute you,
the hope of all our dreams;
We look up to you our guidance,
the source of all our dreams;
We pledge to you our loyalty,
the wellspring of our dreams;
We see in you our future bright,
the fulfillment of our dreams.

~words by Don Tomlinson
~music by Al McCune

Lee: On another visit, I took a spin through Busch Wildlife Area and stopped to pay my respects to Mr. and Mrs Howell. It was hard to find Francis. The stone had broken and been put into the ground. Dirt and grass covered most of it and after finding it took me a while to get it cleaned off enough to take this pic:

Susannah's stone had also broken and was leaning up against a tree. It was very hard to read: "Susannah Howell wife of Francis Howell":

The cemetery is located near Busch Wildlife Lake #4:

May Break

~ A Tiny Flower for May Day ~
On my favorite tiny platter!

Taking a break this month,
taking some trips;
posts to resume in June.

The Great Aunts

My Grandfather's Sisters

Mabel

Beatrice

Virginia

Gail

Their Mother ~ My Great-Grandmother
Sarah Elisabeth Hartman Lindsey

For more on the life and times of Aunt Mabel
see my recent post:

Where Aunt Mabel Lived

@The Fortnightly Kitti Carriker
A literary blog of connection & coincidence;
custom & ceremony

Pussy Willows for Arbor Day

Spring Willows
by Andrea Wisnewski

Pussy Willows
Perfect for Arbor Day

Willow Baby
by Elsa Beskow (1874 – 1953)

Different coloring for
poetry book illustration

Previous Arbor Day Posts

A New Book for Shakespeare's Birthday

by Grace Tiffany

Now, I'd like to see this novel made into a movie,
just the same as Hamnet -- or better!

Additional Shakespeare Birthday Posts

23 April 2010
18 May 2011
23 April 2012
23 April 2013
25 April 2014 & Buttons
29 April 2015
23 April 2016
23 April 2017
~~~
~~~
24 April 2020
~~~
~~~
23 April 2023
23 April 2024
23 April 2025
23 April 2026

Trees of Edinburgh

In Celebration of Earth Day
Past & Present

Lost

Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.

David Wagoner (1926 – 2021)
American poet, novelist, and educator
More by Wagoner: QK & FN

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From My Photo Album ~ 2018

Safely Impossible

Freudian slip from airline pilot:
“We’ll try to get the rest of you to Atlanta
as safely impossible — I mean AS possible.”

Too late, no backsies, we already heard that!

That exciting time when all the emergency vehicles
came to meet our plane at LaGuardia!

on facebook

Death Awaits, Books Await

Most Entertaining Present I've Received All Year

Some humorous product reviews.

"Till death do us steep.”

Actuarially Impossible: “Of course anyone who truly loves books buys more of them than he or she can hope to read in one fleeting lifetime. A good book, resting unopened in its slot on a shelf, full of majestic potentiality, is the most comforting sort of intellectual wallpaper.” ~ David Quammen

Current Book Blog:
April Foolery
@Kitti's List

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And on the serious side:

Death I Recant

@The Fortnightly Kitti Carriker
A literary blog of connection & coincidence;
custom & ceremony

Church Bell ~ Ward, Colorado, 1917
By Georgia O'Keeffe

“ . . . never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
it tolls for thee . . . ” ~John Donne