Behind the Music: "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day"

It's possible that all of you know the story behind the Christmas song, "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day," but considering the recent events that took place in Connecticut and the state of mourning in which this country finds itself, I thought it might be a good time to tell it again.

Anyone who took American Literature in high school (which, I believe, should be EVERYONE) should know that this song is based on a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, one of this country's best-known poets. In his day, he was America's most famous and most universally loved poet. He published poetry from 1839 to 1880. And anyone who knows anything about the Civil War knows it falls smack-dab in the middle of that timeline.

Source

The Civil War is the backdrop of this song. You don't see it in the lyrics because those lines of the poem were left out of the song.

Near the beginning of the war, in July of 1861, Longfellow's wife tried to melt some sealing wax, and her clothes caught on fire. Longfellow was in the home at the time and was able to extinguish the flames by throwing his arms around her, suffering his own burns in the process. However, she died the next day.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

So, for Longfellow, when Christmas rolled around, it became a time of mourning for his wife, though he tried to make it fun for the kids. In 1862, he wrote in his journal, “A ‘merry Christmas’ say the children, but that is no more for me.”
Then, in March of 1863, his 17-year-old son, Charles, ran away from home to join the Union Army. Apparently, when your dad is famous, it's not so easy to do that, though, and when he showed up at camp, the commanding officer called up Longfellow to get his permission, which he got.

In any case, I think you all know where this is going: On Nov. 27, 1963, Charley got shot. Luckily, he got shot in the shoulder, and even more luckily, he missed being paralyzed by less than an inch.

Charles was brought home Dec. 8, and so it was that Henry Wadsworth Longfellow found himself on Christmas morning in 1863 (presumably) missing his wife, mulling over the war and feeling so very thankful that his son was alive.

So he wrote this:

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Till, ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime,
A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound
The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn
The households born
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said:
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead; nor doth he sleep!
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men!"

 

It really is a beautiful poem about hope. And about God.

 

And I know that this has been a tough year for this country. There have been between four and seven mass shootings this year, depending on how you define "mass." There was a drought (the worst since the 1950s) that took out entire crops, leaving many farmers with 10 percent of their expected profits. There was an election, which, instead of bringing the country together, seems to always drive warring factions further apart. Trayvon Martin was shot, Hurricane Sandy hit, tornadoes left destruction in their paths, an ambassador and three others were killed. And let's not forget about the fiscal cliff looming over us.

 

To top it all off, Lance Armstrong was banned from professional cycling after an investigation confirmed the doping allegations were true. 

 

Way to kick us when we're down, Lance.

 

And that's just in the good ol' U.S.of A. We all know even worse things were happening in other areas of the world.

 

Some good stuff happened, too, but it didn't seem to outweight the bad this year.

 

"Here, have some Olympics, and some Adele music. Now be on your way."

 

I imagine 1863 was worse, though. I imagine being in the middle of a seemingly endless Civil War, in which all the casualties are Americans, and brothers are fighting brothers, would start to seem pretty bleak and hopeless. It would start to seem like God had forgotten about this country or that he wasn't even there at all.

 

But we all know the truth about that: God had not forgotten us then, and he hasn't forgotten us now. This is a country built on the backs of people who pulled themselves up by their bootstraps and refused to quit in the face of horror. As a race, the only way we humans can survive is if we allow ourselves to hope. And by "allow ourselves," I mean "make ourselves" in some cases and "cling" in other cases.

 

For me, the only reason we have to hope is the fact that the horrors of this world are not all there is. There is beauty in this world, too, given to us by a savior whose birth we celebrate on Christmas. That same savior said, "I am with you always." He came to save the world, then he proved he had the power to do so. For me, that's a reason to celebrate. This Christmas, we have many reasons to mourn, and it's right to do so, but we also have an even bigger reason to hope. 

 

Merry Christmas, my friends. I hope you remember with me that despite the crappiness of this year, "God is not dead, nor doth he sleep!"

 

 

 



How to humiliate your dog

Message from Roscoe: "This is all the clothing a dog should ever wear."

I bought another shirt for my dog today.

"Santa's little helper is not happy."

It was so stinkin' cute and only $3 at Target, so I gave in and bought it.

Dressing the dog up is the kind of thing that normally would annoy someone like me. In theory, it does. I mean, it's completely stupid.

But seriously, how cute is that?

"Come any closer, and you're going to look like the chewed part of this bone."

This is a guilty pleasure. And dang it, I should feel guilty: Is it completely ridiculous? Yes. Is is something you could only find in a wealthy and consumeristic society such as ours? Of course. Is it completely foolish to spend money to clothe a creature covered with fur, especially when said clothing will only serve to render said creature miserable -- or at least not thrilled?

Absolutely.

It's all true. And I might be a little embarrassed that I bought my dog a Halloween costume ... or rather, three Halloween costumes, a Santa hat, and an elf shirt.

But not embarrassed enough to hold back from showing you this:

"I will now karate-chop my way out of this ridiculous ensemble."

The problem is that all this (very sound) logic goes out the window when I see that adorable little outfit in the store and picture this:

"Why do you hate me?"

On the other hand, this is what it usually becomes:

"I will END you!"

Yet I can't seem to stop myself.

"There are dogs starving in Africa, and I'm wearing a Santa hat."

"Merry Christmas. Please save me."

At least I'm not the only one: http://www.flickr.com/groups/dogswearingclothes/

"If you are a dog and your owner suggests that you wear a sweater ... suggest that he wear a tail."  ~ Fran Lebowitz

The biker's salute

As many of you know, I have started riding a motorcycle around town on nice days. My dad taught me toward the end of the season last year, and I got my license just in time for the cold weather to hit. So this spring/summer, I have been livin' it up on my (Dad's) tiny Honda Rebel, which is pretty much the cutest little motorcyle anyone has ever seen.

I like it. I enjoy the free feeling, the wind blowing past, the sun on my back. I loved the looks on my coworkers' faces the first time I walked into the office carrying a motorcyle helmet. Defying expectations is always satisfying. I am a huge fan of the gas mileage. Saving money was the original point of learning to ride. And I love having one more thing on my "list of things I can do." I can ride a motorcyle. What can you do?

And I'll admit it: I like feeling cool. When I'm riding the motorcycle, I am so. freaking. cool.

But none of those things are my favorite part.

My favorite part is something I have dubbed "the biker's salute." At least, that's what I started calling it, and, after some research, I learned that other people call it that, too.

When I was first learning, riding just a bit in front of my dad on some Allegan County back roads, from the opposite direction came another biker. I felt this innate need to reach out and wave, and just as I started to do so, he stuck out his arm, two fingers out, and acknowledged us first. It surprised me, and I thought, "Hmm, I wonder if this is a thing."

Turns out, it totally is a thing.

I have crossed the paths of very few bikers on the road who don't acknowledge me in some way. It gives me a tiny thrill every time I'm on my bike and I see another one coming, partly because I'm ridiculous. I love sticking out my hand and seeing it offered in return as we pass.

It's a salute. It's a friendly gesture. It's a way of saying, "Hey, you're in the club. Nice to see you."  Just by starting up my little 250 cc bike and getting out on the open road, I have gained admittance into a club I didn't even know existed.

My dad never told me about this sense of comradery shared between motorcylists ... probably because he doesn't really think about it and, to be fair, he's not quite as sentimental as I am. But the fact is, at least on the road, it's there. And we have a sign of solidarity, a way of acknowledging each other's presence, and gesture that says, "Hey there, fellow risk-taker. We're in this together."

It's what I call the biker's salute, and it's my favorite part.

But just to be clear, my second-favorite part definitely is being so. freaking. cool.

Get it together!

It's time to get on with it, eh?

During the past year, I have set a million goals for myself: I am going to get organized, I am going to play piano more, I am going to watch less TV, I am going to keep my house consistently clean, I am going to finish the scrapbook I started, I am going to learn sign language, I am going to do devotions regularly, I am going to work out more ... and that's honestly not even half of my random goals throughout the year.

So with New Year's having come and gone, I think it's about time to do something about the fact that I never accomplish any of my goals. The problem is a lack of discipline because of a lack of organization and accountability.
Solution: A planner.

This year, I am making a New Year's resolution for the first time. I don't generally make them because I make resolutions throughout the year to no avail (see above), so why would making one at the new year be any different? However, I'm hoping this one will be different. Why? Well, because I'm hoping this one thing will help me meet all of my other goals and any I might want to add later on by creating the necessary discipline and accountability.

So my New Year's resolution is to successfully use a planner. This means I will buy a planner ($4.85 at Barnes & Noble: Check), create a schedule for myself (Check) and follow through (After Day 1: Check-ish).

I am hoping this planner will help keep me on track by creating that structure that was sorely lacking. Structure can be, in and of itself, a kind of accountability, at least to yourself. When it's 1 a.m. and I'm considering watching another episode of something, I now have a reason to say, "Nope, I have to go to bed because I have a plan for tomorrow." When it's 9:30 a.m. and I want to keep sleeping, even though I've had 8 hours of good rest, I now have a reason to say, "I gotta get up ... I'm on a schedule!"
Obviously, being beholden to a planner is easy to ignore. And if I let it happen, this whole thing could fall apart pretty quickly.

But these are all things I WANT to do, things I've been trying to make myself do for years without success. It turns out that saying, "Eh, I'll get to that tomorrow," every day means you never get to it. Who knew?
So I'm trying a new tack. There is a person I expect to be, someone who knows sign language and writes in her blog regularly and cleans her bathtub once a week. I can't be that person if I'm sitting around watching episodes of "Doctor Who" and "How I Met Your Mother" while playing around on Facebook all day while she says to herself, "I'm totally going to practice the piano tomorrow."
So it's time to get on with it, don't you think? Wish me luck!
"It takes an already-organized person to be able to successfully use a planner." -Hannah Assink, a friend from high school, and let's hope she's wrong!