Thanks for the memories

The big Chaucer weekend is a lovely memory now. Hope some of you were able to attend the festivities.
     Triple digit temps left just in time. We had a few cool days for baking the poundcakes for the Chaucer celebration at the Claremont Library. The oven needs to be on for several hours to make enough poundcakes, so you don't want to start out on a day that's expected to get to the 90s.
     The cakes are sliced, plastic wrapped and handed out to Chaucer fans all afternoon. Many folks come back each year especially looking for the poundcake. It's become a tradition!
     Some folks ask "Why Chaucer and poundcake?" as if there is a mystical or historic connection. My answer may disillusion them, but it's simple: they are easy to make and easy to serve.

A few days before the celebration, I was pleasantly surprised by an invitation to do a radio interview about--what else?--Chaucer. Matthew Arnold is the interviewer. At the end of the program, he even put in a plug for the Saturday events.
     The show is now in the archives of the station. Just click on the link below and then October 21--

  http://radiomaria.us/shieldoffaith/

The music at the Mass was splendid. It got nothing but rave notices and complimentary remarks afterward. The Latin and medieval instruments transported us to the 14th century. Along with the perfect weather of the day, it's all treasured memories now.

Chaucer comes first!

After dealing, last time, with the peacock disguised as a  Canterbury Pilgrim, I thought I'd tell you about another bird who parades incognito. But an email from a friend made me put that off. Our big event of the year is almost here. I'd better tell you about that so you can make your plans to participate.
     Every year--since 2000, the 600th anniversary--the Chaucer lovers here in Claremont, CA celebrate out favorite poet. We'll start this year at the front door of the city library at 2nd and Harvard. I'll be there from 11 a.m. until 3 p.m. with slices of homemade poundcake and prizes and books and such.
     The second part of the event is quite splendid and has been in rehearsal for several weeks. You'll know how special it is if I just copy the announcement my friend forwarded. It's from a local Recorder Society Newsletter:

Saturday, October 25, 5:30 pm
Our Lady of the Assumption Church in Claremont presents: Annual Mass for Chaucer
Musica Ficta will provide music of Chaucer's time before, during and after the Mass. We will be playing Josquin's "Ave Maria -- virgo serena" as a prelude at 5:25. Music for the Mass includes a "Gloria" from the Old Hall Manuscript (1415 -- 1421), the ever popular "Deo Gracias, Anglia," Abelard's "O Quanta Qualia," selections from the Spanish Llibre Vermell de Montserrat, and "Angelus ad Virginem" (which is mentioned in the "Canterbury Tales.") Instruments include Praetorius style recorders, two sizes of psalteries, krumhorn, and percussion. We accompany the singing for the Mass, as well as playing instrumental pieces before, during and after.
Free Will Offering
Our Lady of the Assumption Church   435 N. Berkeley Ave, Claremont, CA
Phone: 909-626-3596

If you need it,  the zip is 91711. Come if you can. You'll enjoy it.

Unexpected ideas--including a bird!

The afternoon at Rowland Heights Library was unforgettable. It goes to prove that we need to ask questions about what Chaucer is doing. His works are not stiff, not dead, not completely understood. Questions add life, interest and new paths to investigate. Three gray-haired Chaucer lovers--Helen and Linda and Tom--demonstrated just how exciting it can get.

I generally start my presentation by promoting Middle English. As an ice-breaker, I  pass out little pink papers with a medieval version of the story of the three pigs. When I asked for a volunteer to read it, Linda said she'd try. You have to have a little courage, a little self-confidence to read Middle English in public, but it's not impossible--Three litel pigges eche hadde a hous--oon was straw, a-nothir was woode, the thridde brikkes.--See what I mean?
     After Linda's fine delivery, we moved on to the "game" I created that shows how Chaucer presents dual descriptions: the Canterbury travelers are really an organized group but each is disguised as a pilgrim. Really? Yes, really.
     Helen came to hear what I had to say about Chaucer because she had enjoyed reading his tales in high school many years ago. It astonished her when she correctly identified the hidden, the concealed, figure of one of the pilgrims. When the game had run its course she said, "I came today because I like Chaucer, but I was not prepared for this whole new world you've opened up!"
     That pleased me, as you can imagine. To make readers aware of the unacknowledged genius of Chaucer is my aim. His creativity goes far beyond that of a mere storyteller.
     Linda added that her class in Chaucer's Tales talked about the possibility of the Pilgrims being identified as Christ's Apostles. There are many ways to see the plan of the Tales. With biblical figures in mind, a brief perusal of a Chaucer concordance finds mention of Adam and Eve in Paradise, Noah and the flood, Joseph, Mary, Herod, Caesar, Magdalene, Satan, hell, heaven and ever-present Judgment. Of course, a "brief perusal" is only a place to start. With enough thought and research, a Bible message might be revealed in the Tales. That's especially true because the best storytellers in Chaucer's day were expected to provide a hidden meaning--a challenge to be discovered.
     When our conversation turned to a religious topic, Tom spoke up. He said, "I've always wondered about the Knight, his son and their servant. That has all the makings of a Trinity." I added that I had had a similar thought.  [It's covered in detail in my Chaucer's Pilgrims, pp. 263-277.] Here's the gist of it.
     The servant--Yeoman--has one of the briefest introductions, a mere seventeen lines. The image is exceptionally colorful, and peacock feathers are an unexpected feature. His head is close-cropped, and his face is brown. He has a coat and hood of green and a green shoulder strap for his horn. He is  equipped with a sword and an elegant dagger as sharp as the point of a spear.
     Put the details together and see the neat, brilliant green head of a peacock with eyes and a beak of brown. The horn provides its raucous voice. Bird's talons were described by Pliny, centuries before Chaucer, as "weapons [that] grow upon their legs."
     Now, how to begin to explain why the Yeoman must be a peacock? We have before us a group of three figures: the father, the son and the peacock. It recalls for me an exasperated reply I once heard given by a theologian. In response to a question about the role of the Holy Spirit, he sputtered, "That damned bird!" The third person of the Trinity is not a bird. That's just a mental picture we are attached to. I see Chaucer replicating here that picture of the Trinity with pagan personifications. That's why a bird needs to be part of this group.
     One heretical opinion saw the Holy Spirit as "a mere creature, who differs only in degree from the angels." And, angels wings, in medieval illustrations, were made of peacock feathers. We can see Chaucer's portrayal in a pagan light as a poetic variation of the third person of the Trinity.
     The Yeoman tells no story. After he is introduced, he is never seen or heard from again. This fits because the Holy Spirit is often referred to as silent--going about His work in silence.
     So Rowland Heights gained the stimulation of new, unexpected ideas. That's what Chaucer deserves.

Weather Alert!

The presentation I did at Rowland Heights Library was a day to remember! Unfortunately the temperature when we left the air-conditioned library was 106º. The next day it was 111º.  I'm sorry, but I lack energy when it gets that hot.
     When our triple-digit spell is over I plan to do a review of the Rowland Heights experience. Many things echoed the purpose of this blog--Chaucer Ain't Like Gospel. We can question what has been taught in the past. We can propose new and different ideas. That's just what Helen and Linda and Tom did. I'll be back soon to tell you all about it.

An APP by any other name . . .

Please consider this a public service announcement. I have a granddaughter who is savvy about new internet technology. She recently sent a message to her friends and family which looks mighty important--even though I don't understand what it means. But I'm sure many of you will.

Here it is, word for word:

I have discovered the Overdrive Media Console app and my reading life will never be the same. I can check out library books onto my Kindle. Oh yeah!

Now doesn't that look important? Enjoy!

Y'all come!

I'm pleased to announce that I've been invited by the Rowland Heights Library to give a presentation. My subject? Chaucer! What else?

I'll tell you about the moment that changed my life forever. I mean exactly that. And we'll play a game that gives you the opportunity to experience that same amazing moment your self!

If you live near LA--or will be visiting in mid-September--the date and time are:
Saturday, September 13 at 2 p.m.

The address of the library is:
1850 Nogales St., Rowland Heights, CA 91748

My books and t-shirts will also be available.
Would love to see you there.

Now for something completely different!

I just past 20 years of attending the San Dimas writers' group. Their critiquing has been vital to the Chaucer books I've published. When I attended for the first time I wanted to make a good impression; I feared they'd find Chaucer too weird, too stuffy. (It turned out that I was wrong; they became fascinated.) Anyway, here is that initial offering--a "safe" piece of general interest about a personal experience.

One Thing Left to Do

Two dogs . . . long-time friends . . . sleeping cozily, legs intertwined. So what changed things? They both wanted to catch the 'possum in the yard that night. That must have been it--"It created an instinctive rivalry." So after that they never went out together at night--"One of them in the dog run and then the other. No possibility of a problem. That's the answer." So we thought.

     But the afternoon I was picking apricots in the yard, it happened. Both dogs had been sunning themselves in the run, and then . . . I couldn't believe my ears . . . a snapping bark, a long, low growl, some thrashing about and then a piercing shriek. It wasn't the night or the 'possum We didn't have the answer.

     I dropped the box of apricots and dashed for the back gate of the run, shouting "No! No!" a word our obedience-trained dogs understood. But the screeching and thrashing just became more agitated. I slammed the gate closed behind me.

     How could I save them from themselves? My mind raced. "Ted's not home. The neighbors aren't about to get involved with two Dobermans fighting. What can I do? . . . The hose!" I snatched up the hose that was lying on the ground and rushed into the cloud of dust they were kicking up. Their teeth were sunk into the side of each other's face. Blood was already oozing down their necks and onto their chests. I smacked their rumps with the hose. "Kukla, NO! Tabitha, NO!" Through their growling and screaming, they never heard me.

     One good thing, their rearing and tossing was moving them toward the gate near the house. "If I can get one into the yard and keep the other in the run that would be the end of it." I dropped the  hose and grabbed onto Kukla's collar, pulling this 70 pound dynamo closer to the gate each time her feet left the ground as Tabitha, the larger of the two, jerked her off balance. Finally I was close enough to undo the latch and open the chain link gate just far enough for one dog to pass through. How I did it, I don't know, but, still hanging onto Kukla I kneed Tabitha in the chest, forcing her backward through the opening.

     I pushed the gate closed as far as I could but the dogs' jaws never released their hold. I moved the gate little by little, trying not to add to their injuries. At last, the latch fell into place and I released Kukla's collar. But the barrier wasn't enough. Even though they were on either side of the gate now, their hold had never slacked. Through the gap between the gate and the post they still hung on. Froth and blood were running down the chain links. "Lord, what more can I do? . . . Water! Why did I think of it before?"

     With the water turned on high, I aimed the flow from the hose directly into their faces; there was no visible reaction. But I continued the water because it was my only hope. Then, after several minutes, they simply let go of each other. Tabitha, panting, lay down on her side on the walkway. Kukla sat and licked the gash in her thigh.

     I turned off the water, went into the kitchen, close the door and dropped onto the nearest chair. Not until then did I realize my heart was pounding. I sat there trembling, tears running down my face. But soon I was overwhelmed with thankfulness. It was over. Now there was only one thing left to do: decide which of my "friends," which of my dogs, must go.