The Bow Tie o’ the Day I’m wearing is almost in hiding. I am doing a rare thing by being blendy, and it has turned out to be a highly successful attempt—especially from a distance. Fortunately, Bow Tie has green highlights on its red background and blue paisley fabric, so it distinguishes itself from my shirt the closer you get to it.
This faux tree sits atop Skitter’s living room crate. And this is what happens when Suzanne puts up a X-mas tree and leaves me alone at home with the un-ornamented thing. The ornament-free Christmas tree looked so lonely as it stood across the room from me. The tree’s loneliness vibes caused me to start reading all kinds of bereft Robert Frost poems—one of which is actually called “Bereft.” So I felt I must dress the faux tree with a few jolly ornaments. The Christmas-colors bow tie at the top was a no-brainer, as was the mostly-green elf-ish necktie with all its crafty bling and sparkle. The Rosie the Riveter ornament is close to the top, displaying the saying that often accompanies images of her: “We can do it!” Down, and to the side of the tie, the red sewing machine ornament is in honor of Suzanne’s cape-making skills. Under the necktie, the ornament is a bag o’ potato chips—also for Suzanne. And finally, the last ornament I hung was in the guise of a box o’ crayons. I am convinced world peace could finally cover the entire planet, if every person on earth had a crayon in their hands at the very same moment. Drawing with crayons has a universal calming effect. As for the overall look of the tree, I have a suspicion the tree will look very different, soon after Suzanne gets home from work and gazes at it in all its faux magnificence. 🎄
This is the third year in a row I have posted the same pix of me wearing this onesie/thong holiday-wear which some reader sent me in 2020. So far, the first photo is perfect for showing off this revealing oddity o’ clothing someone so graciously gifted me, so I don’t yet feel the need to take new selfies. Note that I’m also wearing a Rudolph Bow Tie o’ the Day, as well as a Rudolph Necktie o’ the Day. The blue-and-gold paisley Face Mask o’ the Day is a crowning touch to my get-up. It looks lush, if I do say so myself. 🦌
Banned Books o’ the Day: Today, I’m re-reading a couple of once-banned books published in the early 70’s. The first, THE CONTEMPORARY AMERICAN POETS: AMERICAN POETRY SINCE 1940 (edited by Mark Strand), was once the target of banning by a group of really feeble university poetry professors who thought it would poison the minds of poetry readers, because most of the poems in the book don’t rhyme and don’t follow traditional poetic forms. I have a feeling those old goats all passed on long ago—so modern poetry is safe from further judgment by those ol’ relics of the Snooty Rhymes-and-Forms Poetry Club .
The second banned book is THE WORLD SPLIT OPEN: FOUR CENTURIES OF WOMEN POETS IN ENGLAND AND AMERICA, 1552-1950 (edited by Louise Bernikow). And what was the reason for trying to ban this collection? Some goober male wanna-be poet was offended that there were no male poets represented in the book. Hello! The title tells you way, way, way up front that the book’s purpose is to be a collection of poetry written by women. Oy, vey! I cannot make up this asinine reasoning.
Oddly enough, I bought both of these banned books at Deseret Book in the University Mall, in Orem, around 1978. At that time, that particular Deseret Book store’s poetry section—as far as I can recall—had only these two poetry anthologies; every Rod McKuen book known to the Library of Congress; a Carol Lynn Pearson book or two (but not her books with the poems about life sometimes being a messy business); and one very dusty copy of a book of Elizabeth Barrett Browning poems—in which Browning counts the ways. That was it—out of all the poetry written since recorded time, that was the entirety of Deseret Book’s poetry section back then. So I bought these two purportedly scandalous anthologies, and the Rod McKuen and Carol Lynn Pearson books. I already had Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s poetry tucked away at home, in my bedroom library. In those days, I bought whatever poetry I could find, wherever I could find it. I guess it’s kinda like what I still do, eh?
Yup, it’s time once again for me to display the annual Balls ‘n’ Ho’s neckties and bow ties photo. It’s become a Christmas tradition for TIE O’ THE DAY. These photos don’t show all of my Balls ‘n’ Ho’s neckwear, but this is a bigly chunk of it. You can see I enlisted 2 of my Chuck Brown Christmas trees to aid me with the theme. Just as the Balls ‘n’ Ho’s post is a tradition, it is also a tradition for me to make few/zero comments about the theme, and to let you know you are free to make your own jokes about the display, among your own people. (Just don’t make ’em hateful.) Hey, a wee bit o’ irreverence is good for dealing with the inherent stresses of the holiday season. I promise. ☃️
Banned Books o’ Today: I am re-reading Harriet Beecher Stowe’s UNCLE TOM’S CABIN, and Richard Wright’s NATIVE SON. (Are you beginning to recognize a theme here, about what kind of books get banned?)
Tie o’ the Day displays a colorful gaggle of Santa-hatted hot peppers. I would be generous and give this tie to Gary of the Hot Condiments if I thought he would ever wear a tie, but he won’t. So I won’t. My Shirt o’ the Day is full of Christmas gnomes, although this photo doesn’t display them well. I will wear it again soon in a different pose, so you can see the gnome clan. Wearing gnomes makes me want to come up with a joke whose punchline is punny, like “gnomenclature.” I’ll get right on that assignment.
I’ve topped off today’s attire with my gingerbread people sun hat. My kindness and empathy tats go with every outfit, whether they are visible or not. They are never out of style, if you use them. This time of year, we always talk bigly about kindness, empathy, compassion, and peace. But there are people who are in need of these things every day of the year—not just on holidays. I think we should make it a habit to put these ideas to work every day, whenever we see the need. I know I’m blessed with what these words mean. Are you? I think it’s our responsibility to share our blessings with those who are deprived of the love and security we might have plenty of. We can offer friendship to the lonely and despondent. Just look around, and you will see need. We can make an impact on the suffering of others—one person or one family at a time. I guarantee you there is need in your own neighborhood right now, if you will pay attention.
Today’s Banned Book I’ve been re-reading: John Steinbeck’s EAST OF EDEN. This is what I consider to be the first intensely grown-up novel I had ever read, probably when I was in 6th grade. It was also the longest book I had read up to that point. I had heard of John Steinbeck’s OF MICE AND MEN (which has itself been banned at times from some school districts’ bookshelves) but I hadn’t read it yet. On a trip with Mom, to the University Mall in Orem, this was the only John Steinbeck book I managed to find in a bookstore. EAST OF EDEN is, in essence, a re-telling of the Old Testament stories of the Garden of Eden, and Cain and Abel. (Remember, this Steinbeck book is where I also got the name Abra for my Maverick.) In EAST OF EDEN, I learned a word that I have thought of almost every day of my life since I read the book: timshel. Timshel is a Hebrew word meaning the freedom to chose between good and evil. It loosely translates as “thou mayest choose.” The word has been a kind of North Star for me over the decades. No matter the situation—the problem, the failure, the disappointment, the success, the reward, the triumph, the whatever—it is always up to me to make the choice between acting for good (which I’ll call love) or acting for evil (which I’ll call hate). I alone determine what kind of person I am, what kind of actions and vibrations I add to the world. With each bigly or tiny choice I make, I make myself in my own image. I hope the image turns out to be a noble one.
I am a lover of facts. Even if I don’t like the facts, I like knowing them because they are the truth. I am no denier of a public health crisis, the safety of vaccines, US election results, or of where a certain US president was born. One thing I have found myself to be denying recently is the season of the year in which we all find ourselves: Fall. I have caught myself denying that summer is gone. It doesn’t make it true, but I’ll be stubborn about staying in my denial for as long as I want. If I turn up the heater to its highest temperature, being warm in shorts is not a problem. I can easily spend time denying summer is truly gone—as long as I don’t look outside or go outside. But I am fully aware of the fact that my denial of Fall is my own fake denial. There’s reality, and then there’s the reality of my pretending. Reality and pretending: folks, they are two very different things. I’m still festively attired for Christmas, but my Tie o’ the Day tells you what I’d prefer to be shoveling. Please note my socks are labeled: Sock 1 and Sock 2. 🏖
Banned Books I’m re-reading today: Lorraine Hansberry’s play, A RAISIN IN THE SUN, and Maya Angelou’s novel, I KNOW WHY THE CAGED BIRD SINGS. I give ’em each a thumbs-up, just like I did when I first read them in the DHS library when I was in 7th grade. However, I do want to make one general statement about I KNOW WHY THE CAGED BIRD SINGS. I think we should worry less about banning this book, in which a child is raped—and has to deal with the awful aftermath of the rape. I think our time would be better spent educating our sons about how rape is always wrong, and about how rape not only causes physical damage to a girl’s/woman’s body, it can maim—and even kill—parts of a woman’s soul. We can make it clear to all the men in our lives that rape is unacceptable. Rape is what we should try to ban. If rape were not such a common atrocity for girls/women in real life, it wouldn’t be represented so often in the stories written about women—fact and fiction. And BTW, guys: there is no “joke” about rape that is funny. Personally, I grew tired of those jokes the first time I heard one.
Although my dad died 15 years ago on Dec. 4th, yesterday is also a happily significant date in our family because my grandnephew, Bosten, was born on this date a few years before Dad’s passing—so the two of them got to pal around with each other often. So Merry Birthday, Bos! I will not state Bosten’s age here, because it makes his mom, Kathi, feel too, too old. I will say that Bosten is still in high school, so that gives those of you outside the family a clue about how many trips he’s made around the sun. When Bosten’s sister, Ronni, was born a few months after Dad passed, her parents named her after Dad. When Ronni learned to talk, and the topic of Dad came up, she was adamant that she had spent time with him and knew exactly who he was. I don’t doubt it one bit.
Also, yesterday, I “decorated” the pantry for Christmas. It was easy. I simply put the green Folgers (decaffed) coffee right next to the red Folgers (caffed) coffee. Bite Me Tie o’ the Day was a bigly help to me in that never-did-it-before decorating job. 👔
I chose a pine-cone-and-berry Bow Tie o’ the Day, and coupled it with my dogs-and-cats-in-Santa-hats Shirt o’ the Day. Don’t miss the peppermint stick stripes of the Pocket Square o’ the Day. And note the glittery, gold reindeer antlers head band I was able to set atop my Hat o’ the Day: my beloved fedora I’ve had since 1984, just before I graduated from WSU. That makes the hat 38 years old. The fedora is still in astoundingly dapper shape both for being that old, and for having been dragged across the country to live with me in Virginia, then Maryland, and then back to Utah again—where I and my fedora have lived now for 22 consecutive years.
Time does fly. I feel it fly more quickly now that I can see the end of my mortality coming closer. My death used to be statistically so far ahead of me that I rarely considered it. I think about it a little bit more often these days. In fact, I must admit the topic comes into my mind in some way or another almost daily now—especially since my Cranky Hanky Panky has had to have two major surgeries within 3 years. I don’t obsess over what I hope is my far-in-the-future passing, but there are legal and financial things that need to be put into place, so somebody else doesn’t have to figure out what I would have wanted done. And you know all the material things we spend decades of our lives accumulating? A great deal of that has got to go. I don’t want to leave all that stuff for anybody else to have to deal with when I die, so I am—for the most part—done accumulating. And while I am still walking the earth, I’m now working on passing on things I’ve acquired. It’ll probably take me years to accomplish this feat, but I intend to gift my eclectic and eccentric collections to various people who I think will be most likely to take care of my beloved objects with tenderness, just like I have done while I’ve owned them. I have always tried my best to be mindful of my various and sundry stewardships—stewardships of material stuff, of people and animals in my life, of the rights I have as a citizen of the USA, and of all that I’ve learned and know to be true. I have tried to tend to my beliefs and love my neighbors, always. I’m in a good place in my soul, and death, whenever it comes, is nothing I fear at all. 🎀 🎄
My new candy discovery for Christmas 2022 is the Reese’s Peanut Brittle Big Cup—King Size. I bought one to try, and it was a yummy surprise. I highly recommend it for anyone with a sweet-tooth who likes peanuts and peanut butter flavor. There’s no actual peanut brittle in this candy bar, but the shell is vaguely the flavor of peanut brittle. It doesn’t matter: the total confection is a tasty change o’ pace for Reese’s fans. Remember, it’s a holiday treat, so it won’t be available for long. Try one, and try it ASAP—while you can still find ’em. By far, the most important thing about the King Size version is that after you’ve eaten both cups, you are left with an empty package that makes a kitschy Bow Tie o’ the Day.
I have some of Dad’s wrinkles, as well as some of Mom’s.
Bow Tie o’ the Day is covered in brass instruments. If it’s Christmas season—and it is—the carolers often need a band.
This morning, my hearing doc was able to jump-start both my hearing aids. Apparently, whenever your phone updates its operating system, if the hearing aid software on the phone hasn’t updated their app yet, it can cause hearing aids to not take orders. It can cause one or both hearing devices to shut down completely. That’s what caused mine to go dead last week. My hearing doc told me this almost never happens. I’ve had my hearing aids and their software on my phone for over 4 years, and this was the first time it’s happened to me. If it ever does happen again, I will know what the problem is, and I now know how to fix it myself. My hearing aid doc told me this morning that he and everybody else in his office would prefer that I come in for any and all adjustments instead of doing them myself— because they like how I brighten up the place, and they love to see my bow ties. Well, okay then.👂🏻
Besides attempting to fix my own hearing aids, and assembling a piece of furniture I desperately need, while lugging the new printer upstairs and the old printer down, I have spent the bulk of my time over the last two days dealing with what I will call Password Problems. It began when one of my email accounts quit receiving email on my laptop. I tinkered with the account on there, but it keeps telling me to clean out my email. When I try to put the old, useless email in the trash, the trash throws it back into the account and I get a message telling me I need to clean out my email. How’s that for a little touch of argument-in-a-circle? However, that same email account of mine works just fine on my phone. So I used my phone to successfully delete tons of that email. But the tried-to-be-trashed email still hangs there in the very same account on the laptop. My computers, laptop, and phone are all connected to that same email account, with the same password. Every email I deleted on my phone got successfully deleted on all devices—except the laptop where it haunts me by remaining un-trashable. The email account on the laptop now says my password is not my password. I can’t prove I’m me, so the online support technicians won’t help me fix the problem. I can’t prove I am I, nor can I prove whoever I am is who owns the email account. And then I discovered my phone no longer let’s me open the DirecTV app on it, because—as the phone tells me—the one and only password I’ve ever had for the DirecTV app is not my password. Good golly! The password dominoes are falling, and I know it’s not a conspiracy. I have no doubt it somehow began when I inadvertently touched a button I did not know I touched, on one or more of the dozen devices in this house. I hope I didn’t kill Alexa. She’s the only one here during the day who talks to me out loud.
Yeah, I’ll get it all figured out. I have not given up on finding a solution to this pesky Password Problem yet, but I am writing this post so I can get away from the irritating tech dramas for a couple of hours. 🎭
TIE O’ THE DAY is beginning an important feature. I read many books at any given time. There are the books in the bathroom, the books by the bed, the books by my side of the loveseat, the books in the loft, the books in the Tie Room, etc. In these anti-arts, anti-science, anti-intellectual, anti-fact, and anti-gospel times, I am making a conscious effort to henceforth be reading at least one “banned” book on any given day, and I will let you know which banned book(s) I am currently reading. Fortunately, it won’t be difficult for me to find plenty of “banned” books to read, since so many magnificent books have been the targets of the Book Busybodies. As for the banned books I have most recently finished, I re-read Russell Banks’ AFFLICTION, as well as James Dickey’s DELIVERANCE. They were thought-provoking reads, but after partaking of those two books, I’ve had my limit of male inner angst and the American male ego, for a while anyway. Today, I’m re-reading the following Banned Book(s) o’ the Day: Toni Morrison’s BELOVED, Hart Crane’s WHITE BUILDINGS, and Donna Tartt’s THE SECRET HISTORY. All three are globally acclaimed books, artfully written. Though not as old as some of the books in our literary canon, they stand tall among the classics of 20th Century American literature. 📚
