The Snow Queen III

Citizen Journalism with a Better Flavor


Volume XI, Issue IV

The Snow Queen
by Hans Christian Andersen

THIRD STORY. Of the Flower-Garden At the Old Woman's Who Understood Witchcraft

But what became of little Gerda when Kay did not return? Where could he be? Nobody knew; nobody could give any intelligence. All the boys knew was, that they had seen him tie his sledge to another large and splendid one, which drove down the street and out of the town. Nobody knew where he was; many sad tears were shed, and little Gerda wept long and bitterly; at last she said he must be dead; that he had been drowned in the river which flowed close to the town. Oh! those were very long and dismal winter evenings!

At last spring came, with its warm sunshine.

Kay is dead and gone!" said little Gerda.

That I don't believe," said the Sunshine.

Kay is dead and gone!" said she to the Swallows.

That I don't believe," said they: and at last little Gerda did not think so any longer either.

I'll put on my red shoes," said she, one morning; "Kay has never seen them, and then I'll go down to the river and ask there."

It was quite early; she kissed her old grandmother, who was still asleep, put on her red shoes, and went alone to the river.

Is it true that you have taken my little playfellow? I will make you a present of my red shoes, if you will give him back to me."

And, as it seemed to her, the blue waves nodded in a strange manner; then she took off her red shoes, the most precious things she possessed, and threw them both into the river. But they fell close to the bank, and the little waves bore them immediately to land; it was as if the stream would not take what was dearest to her; for in reality it had not got little, Kay; but Gerda thought that she had not thrown the shoes out far enough, so she clambered into a boat which lay among the rushes, went to the farthest end, and threw out the shoes. But the boat was not fastened, and the motion which she occasioned, made it drift from the shore. She observed this, and hastened to get back; but before she could do so, the boat was more than a yard from the land, and was gliding quickly onward.

Little Gerda was very frightened, and began to cry; but no one heard her except the sparrows, and they could not carry her to land; but they flew along the bank, and sang as if to comfort her, "Here we are! Here we are!" The boat drifted with the stream, little Gerda sat quite still without shoes, for they were swimming behind the boat, but she could not reach them, because the boat went much faster than they did.

The banks on both sides were beautiful; lovely flowers, venerable trees, and slopes with sheep and cows, but not a human being was to be seen.

Perhaps the river will carry me to little Kay," said she; and then she grew less sad. She rose, and looked for many hours at the beautiful green banks. Presently she sailed by a large cherry-orchard, where was a little cottage with curious red and blue windows; it was thatched, and before it two wooden soldiers stood sentry, and presented arms when anyone went past.

Gerda called to them, for she thought they were alive; but they, of course, did not answer. She came close to them, for the stream drifted the boat quite near the land.

Gerda called still louder, and an old woman then came out of the cottage, leaning upon a crooked stick. She had a large broad-brimmed hat on, painted with the most splendid flowers.

Poor little child!" said the old woman. "How did you get upon the large rapid river, to be driven about so in the wide world!" And then the old woman went into the water, caught hold of the boat with her crooked stick, drew it to the bank, and lifted little Gerda out.

And Gerda was so glad to be on dry land again; but she was rather afraid of the strange old woman.

But come and tell me who you are, and how you came here," said she.

And Gerda told her all; and the old woman shook her head and said, "A-hem! a-hem!" and when Gerda had told her everything, and asked her if she had not seen little Kay, the woman answered that he had not passed there, but he no doubt would come; and she told her not to be cast down, but taste her cherries, and look at her flowers, which were finer than any in a picture-book, each of which could tell a whole story. She then took Gerda by the hand, led her into the little cottage, and locked the door.

The windows were very high up; the glass was red, blue, and green, and the sunlight shone through quite wondrously in all sorts of colors. On the table stood the most exquisite cherries, and Gerda ate as many as she chose, for she had permission to do so. While she was eating, the old woman combed her hair with a golden comb, and her hair curled and shone with a lovely golden color around that sweet little face, which was so round and so like a rose.

I have often longed for such a dear little girl," said the old woman. "Now you shall see how well we agree together"; and while she combed little Gerda's hair, the child forgot her foster-brother Kay more and more, for the old woman understood magic; but she was no evil being, she only practised witchcraft a little for her own private amusement, and now she wanted very much to keep little Gerda. She therefore went out in the garden, stretched out.her crooked stick towards the rose-bushes, which, beautifully as they were blowing, all sank into the earth and no one could tell where they had stood. The old woman feared that if Gerda should see the roses, she would then think of her own, would remember little Kay, and run away from her.

She now led Gerda into the flower-garden. Oh, what odour and what loveliness was there! Every flower that one could think of, and of every season, stood there in fullest bloom; no picture-book could be gayer or more beautiful. Gerda jumped for joy, and played till the sun set behind the tall cherry-tree; she then had a pretty bed, with a red silken coverlet filled with blue violets. She fell asleep, and had as pleasant dreams as ever a queen on her wedding-day.

The next morning she went to play with the flowers in the warm sunshine, and thus passed away a day. Gerda knew every flower; and, numerous as they were, it still seemed to Gerda that one was wanting, though she did not know which. One day while she was looking at the hat of the old woman painted with flowers, the most beautiful of them all seemed to her to be a rose. The old woman had forgotten to take it from her hat when she made the others vanish in the earth. But so it is when one's thoughts are not collected. "What!" said Gerda. "Are there no roses here?" and she ran about amongst the flowerbeds, and looked, and looked, but there was not one to be found. She then sat down and wept; but her hot tears fell just where a rose-bush had sunk; and when her warm tears watered the ground, the tree shot up suddenly as fresh and blooming as when it had been swallowed up. Gerda kissed the roses, thought of her own dear roses at home, and with them of little Kay.

Oh, how long I have stayed!" said the little girl. "I intended to look for Kay! Don't you know where he is?" she asked of the roses. "Do you think he is dead and gone?"

Dead he certainly is not," said the Roses. "We have been in the earth where all the dead are, but Kay was not there."

Many thanks!" said little Gerda; and she went to the other flowers, looked into their cups, and asked, "Don't you know where little Kay is?"

But every flower stood in the sunshine, and dreamed its own fairy tale or its own story: and they all told her very many things, but not one knew anything of Kay.

Well, what did the Tiger-Lily say?

Hearest thou not the drum? Bum! Bum! Those are the only two tones. Always bum! Bum! Hark to the plaintive song of the old woman, to the call of the priests! The Hindoo woman in her long robe stands upon the funeral pile; the flames rise around her and her dead husband, but the Hindoo woman thinks on the living one in the surrounding circle; on him whose eyes burn hotter than the flames--on him, the fire of whose eyes pierces her heart more than the flames which soon will burn her body to ashes. Can the heart's flame die in the flame of the funeral pile?"

I don't understand that at all," said little Gerda.

That is my story," said the Lily.

What did the Convolvulus say?

Projecting over a narrow mountain-path there hangs an old feudal castle. Thick evergreens grow on the dilapidated walls, and around the altar, where a lovely maiden is standing: she bends over the railing and looks out upon the rose. No fresher rose hangs on the branches than she; no appleblossom carried away by the wind is more buoyant! How her silken robe is rustling!

Is he not yet come?'"

Is it Kay that you mean?" asked little Gerda.

I am speaking about my story--about my dream," answered the Convolvulus.

What did the Snowdrops say?

Between the trees a long board is hanging--it is a swing. Two little girls are sitting in it, and swing themselves backwards and forwards; their frocks are as white as snow, and long green silk ribands flutter from their bonnets. Their brother, who is older than they are, stands up in the swing; he twines his arms round the cords to hold himself fast, for in one hand he has a little cup, and in the other a clay-pipe. He is blowing soap-bubbles. The swing moves, and the bubbles float in charming changing colors: the last is still hanging to the end of the pipe, and rocks in the breeze. The swing moves. The little black dog, as light as a soap-bubble, jumps up on his hind legs to try to get into the swing. It moves, the dog falls down, barks, and is angry. They tease him; the bubble bursts! A swing, a bursting bubble--such is my song!"

What you relate may be very pretty, but you tell it in so melancholy a manner, and do not mention Kay."

What do the Hyacinths say?

There were once upon a time three sisters, quite transparent, and very beautiful. The robe of the one was red, that of the second blue, and that of the third white. They danced hand in hand beside the calm lake in the clear moonshine. They were not elfin maidens, but mortal children. A sweet fragrance was smelt, and the maidens vanished in the wood; the fragrance grew stronger--three coffins, and in them three lovely maidens, glided out of the forest and across the lake: the shining glow-worms flew around like little floating lights. Do the dancing maidens sleep, or are they dead? The odour of the flowers says they are corpses; the evening bell tolls for the dead!"

You make me quite sad," said little Gerda. "I cannot help thinking of the dead maidens. Oh! is little Kay really dead? The Roses have been in the earth, and they say no."

Ding, dong!" sounded the Hyacinth bells. "We do not toll for little Kay; we do not know him. That is our way of singing, the only one we have."

And Gerda went to the Ranunculuses, that looked forth from among the shining green leaves.

You are a little bright sun!" said Gerda. "Tell me if you know where I can find my playfellow."

And the Ranunculus shone brightly, and looked again at Gerda. What song could the Ranunculus sing? It was one that said nothing about Kay either.

In a small court the bright sun was shining in the first days of spring. The beams glided down the white walls of a neighbor's house, and close by the fresh yellow flowers were growing, shining like gold in the warm sun-rays. An old grandmother was sitting in the air; her grand-daughter, the poor and lovely servant just come for a short visit. She knows her grandmother. There was gold, pure virgin gold in that blessed kiss. There, that is my little story," said the Ranunculus.

My poor old grandmother!" sighed Gerda. "Yes, she is longing for me, no doubt: she is sorrowing for me, as she did for little Kay. But I will soon come home, and then I will bring Kay with me. It is of no use asking the flowers; they only know their own old rhymes, and can tell me nothing." And she tucked up her frock, to enable her to run quicker; but the Narcissus gave her a knock on the leg, just as she was going to jump over it. So she stood still, looked at the long yellow flower, and asked, "You perhaps know something?" and she bent down to the Narcissus. And what did it say?

I can see myself--I can see myself I Oh, how odorous I am! Up in the little garret there stands, half-dressed, a little Dancer. She stands now on one leg, now on both; she despises the whole world; yet she lives only in imagination. She pours water out of the teapot over a piece of stuff which she holds in her hand; it is the bodice; cleanliness is a fine thing. The white dress is hanging on the hook; it was washed in the teapot, and dried on the roof. She puts it on, ties a saffron-colored kerchief round her neck, and then the gown looks whiter. I can see myself--I can see myself!"

That's nothing to me," said little Gerda. "That does not concern me." And then off she ran to the further end of the garden.

The gate was locked, but she shook the rusted bolt till it was loosened, and the gate opened; and little Gerda ran off barefooted into the wide world. She looked round her thrice, but no one followed her. At last she could run no longer; she sat down on a large stone, and when she looked about her, she saw that the summer had passed; it was late in the autumn, but that one could not remark in the beautiful garden, where there was always sunshine, and where there were flowers the whole year round.

Dear me, how long I have staid!" said Gerda. "Autumn is come. I must not rest any longer." And she got up to go further.

Oh, how tender and wearied her little feet were! All around it looked so cold and raw: the long willow-leaves were quite yellow, and the fog dripped from them like water; one leaf fell after the other: the sloes only stood full of fruit, which set one's teeth on edge. Oh, how dark and comfortless it was in the dreary world!

(to be continued)


Ice Crystals on North Mountain Trail in Virginia.

Of Witches and Wardrobes

A friend recently remarked that we don't have time for art and poetry: "We need to reach the LOST!" Indeed those without Faith are wandering into unknown danger. The problem is that they have been blinded to the greater Truth and beauty that surrounds us. I would gently argue that we DO need the story. C. S. Lewis was handed a different splinter as a child when his teachers told him: "Christianity is True, all these other stories and old myths are False!" Now obviously, there are stories rooted in great truth, and there are stories rooted in mere silliness. The mistake Lewis' teachers made was to fairly arbitrarily draw the line, thus leading the young Lewis to question ALL stories!

We live in a world quite under the influence of the theories of Gaius and Titious. They tell us that the thing has no value in itself, but in the value we by our reaction assign to it. Thus we are drawn like Edmund to the Turkish Delight, or like Kay to the transient snowflakes. In our world of soundbytes and simple memes, we overlook the deeper nature of things. I would argue that many of our fellows have been brought up in such thinking and that is why they scoff when we profess to know deeper truths that we would like to share.

Michael Ward, a great C. S. Lewis scholar makes the point that Lewis was a master of making his points indirectly. He would lead you into a garden where the light would illuminate his point in a way that made you discover it for yourself. George MacDonald, in 1893 wrote: The Fantastic Imagination which makes this argument far more eloquently than I can.

(to be Continued)

The Snow Queen II

Citizen Journalism with a Better Flavor


Volume XI, Issue III

The Snow Queen
by Hans Christian Andersen

SECOND STORY. A Little Boy and a Little Girl

In a large town, where there are so many houses, and so many people, that there is no roof left for everybody to have a little garden; and where, on this account, most. persons are obliged to content themselves with flowers in pots; there lived two little children, who had a garden somewhat larger than a flower-pot. They were not brother and sister; but they cared for each other as much as if they were. Their parents lived exactly opposite. They inhabited two garrets; and where the roof of the one house joined that of the other, and the gutter ran along the extreme end of it, there was to each house a small window: one needed only to step over the gutter to get from one window to the other.

The children's parents had large wooden boxes there, in which vegetables for the kitchen were planted, and little rosetrees besides: there was a rose in each box, and they grew splendidly. They now thought of placing the boxes across the gutter, so that they nearly reached from one window to the other, and looked just like two walls of flowers. The tendrils of the peas hung down over the boxes; and the rose-trees shot up long branches, twined round the windows, and then bent towards each other: it was almost like a triumphant arch of foliage and flowers. The boxes were very high, and the children knew that they must not creep over them; so they often obtained permission to get out of the windows to each other, and to sit on their little stools among the roses, where they could play delight fully. In winter there was an end of this pleasure. The windows were often frozen over; but then they heated copper farthings on the stove, and laid the hot farthing on the windowpane, and then they had a capital peep-hole, quite nicely rounded; and out of each peeped a gentle friendly eye--it was the little boy and the little girl who were looking out. His name was Kay, hers was Gerda. In summer, with one jump, they could get to each other; but in winter they were obliged first to go down the long stairs, and then up the long stairs again: and out-of-doors there was quite a snow-storm.

It is the white bees that are swarming," said Kay's old grandmother.

Do the white bees choose a queen?" asked the little boy; for he knew that the honey-bees always have one.

Yes," said the grandmother, "she flies where the swarm hangs in the thickest clusters. She is the largest of all; and she can never remain quietly on the earth, but goes up again into the black clouds. Many a winter's night she flies through the streets of the town, and peeps in at the windows; and they then freeze in so wondrous a manner that they look like flowers."

Yes, I have seen it," said both the children; and so they knew that it was true.

Can the Snow Queen come in?" said the little girl.

Only let her come in!" said the little boy. "Then I'd put her on the stove, and she'd melt."

And then his grandmother patted his head and told him other stories.

In the evening, when little Kay was at home, and half undressed, he climbed up on the chair by the window, and peeped out of the little hole. A few snow-flakes were falling, and one, the largest of all, remained lying on the edge of a flower-pot.

The flake of snow grew larger and larger; and at last it was like a young lady, dressed in the finest white gauze, made of a million little flakes like stars. She was so beautiful and delicate, but she was of ice, of dazzling, sparkling ice; yet she lived; her eyes gazed fixedly, like two stars; but there was neither quiet nor repose in them. She nodded towards the window, and beckoned with her hand. The little boy was frightened, and jumped down from the chair; it seemed to him as if, at the same moment, a large bird flew past the window.

The next day it was a sharp frost--and then the spring came; the sun shone, the green leaves appeared, the swallows built their nests, the windows were opened, and the little children again sat in their pretty garden, high up on the leads at the top of the house.

That summer the roses flowered in unwonted beauty. The little girl had learned a hymn, in which there was something about roses; and then she thought of her own flowers; and she sang the verse to the little boy, who then sang it with her:

The rose in the valley is blooming so sweet, And angels descend there the children to greet."

And the children held each other by the hand, kissed the roses, looked up at the clear sunshine, and spoke as though they really saw angels there. What lovely summer-days those were! How delightful to be out in the air, near the fresh rose-bushes, that seem as if they would never finish blossoming!

Kay and Gerda looked at the picture-book full of beasts and of birds; and it was then--the clock in the church-tower was just striking five--that Kay said, "Oh! I feel such a sharp pain in my heart; and now something has got into my eye!"

The little girl put her arms around his neck. He winked his eves; now there was nothing to be seen.

I think it is out now," said he; but it was not. It was just one of those pieces of glass from the magic mirror that had got into his eye; and poor Kay had got another piece right in his heart. It will soon become like ice. It did not hurt any longer, but there it was.

What are you crying for?" asked he. "You look so ugly! There's nothing the matter with me. Ah," said he at once, "that rose is cankered! And look, this one is quite crooked! After all, these roses are very ugly! They are just like the box they are planted in!" And then he gave the box a good kick with his foot, and pulled both the roses up.

What are you doing?" cried the little girl; and as he perceived her fright, he pulled up another rose, got in at the window, and hastened off from dear little Gerda.

Afterwards, when she brought her picture-book, he asked, "What horrid beasts have you there?" And if his grandmother told them stories, he always interrupted her; besides, if he could manage it, he would get behind her, put on her spectacles, and imitate her way of speaking; he copied all her ways, and then everybody laughed at him. He was soon able to imitate the gait and manner of everyone in the street. Everything that was peculiar and displeasing in them--that Kay knew how to imitate: and at such times all the people said, "The boy is certainly very clever!" But it was the glass he had got in his eye; the glass that was sticking in his heart, which made him tease even little Gerda, whose whole soul was devoted to him.

His games now were quite different to what they had formerly been, they were so very knowing. One winter's day, when the flakes of snow were flying about, he spread the skirts of his blue coat, and caught the snow as it fell.

Look through this glass, Gerda," said he. And every flake seemed larger, and appeared like a magnificent flower, or beautiful star; it was splendid to look at!

Look, how clever!" said Kay. "That's much more interesting than real flowers! They are as exact as possible; there i not a fault in them, if they did not melt!"

It was not long after this, that Kay came one day with large gloves on, and his little sledge at his back, and bawled right into Gerda's ears, "I have permission to go out into the square where the others are playing"; and off he was in a moment.

There, in the market-place, some of the boldest of the boys used to tie their sledges to the carts as they passed by, and so they were pulled along, and got a good ride. It was so capital! Just as they were in the very height of their amusement, a large sledge passed by: it was painted quite white, and there was someone in it wrapped up in a rough white mantle of fur, with a rough white fur cap on his head. The sledge drove round the square twice, and Kay tied on his sledge as quickly as he could, and off he drove with it. On they went quicker and quicker into the next street; and the person who drove turned round to Kay, and nodded to him in a friendly manner, just as if they knew each other. Every time he was going to untie his sledge, the person nodded to him, and then Kay sat quiet; and so on they went till they came outside the gates of the town. Then the snow began to fall so thickly that the little boy could not see an arm's length before him, but still on he went: when suddenly he let go the string he held in his hand in order to get loose from the sledge, but it was of no use; still the little vehicle rushed on with the quickness of the wind. He then cried as loud as he could, but no one beard him; the snow drifted and the sledge flew on, and sometimes it gave a jerk as though they were driving over hedges and ditches. He was quite frightened, and he tried to repeat the Lord's Prayer; but all he could do, he was only able to remember the multiplication table.

The snow-flakes grew larger and larger, till at last they looked just like great white fowls. Suddenly they flew on one side; the large sledge stopped, and the person who drove rose up. It was a lady; her cloak and cap were of snow. She was tall and of slender figure, and of a dazzling whiteness. It was the Snow Queen.

We have travelled fast," said she; "but it is freezingly cold. Come under my bearskin." And she put him in the sledge beside her, wrapped the fur round him, and he felt as though he were sinking in a snow-wreath.

Are you still cold?" asked she; and then she kissed his forehead. Ah! it was colder than ice; it penetrated to his very heart, which was already almost a frozen lump; it seemed to him as if he were about to die--but a moment more and it was quite congenial to him, and he did not remark the cold that was around him.

My sledge! Do not forget my sledge!" It was the first thing he thought of. It was there tied to one of the white chickens, who flew along with it on his back behind the large sledge. The Snow Queen kissed Kay once more, and then he forgot little Gerda, grandmother, and all whom he had left at his home.

Now you will have no more kisses," said she, "or else I should kiss you to death!"

Kay looked at her. She was very beautiful; a more clever, or a more lovely countenance he could not fancy to himself; and she no longer appeared of ice as before, when she sat outside the window, and beckoned to him; in his eyes she was perfect, he did not fear her at all, and told her that he could calculate in his head and with fractions, even; that he knew the number of square miles there were in the different countries, and how many inhabitants they contained; and she smiled while he spoke. It then seemed to him as if what he knew was not enough, and he looked upwards in the large huge empty space above him, and on she flew with him; flew high over,the black clouds, while the storm moaned and whistled as though it were singing some old tune. On they flew over woods and lakes, over seas, and many lands; and beneath them the chilling storm rushed fast, the wolves howled, the snow crackled; above them flew large screaming crows, but higher up appeared the moon, quite large and bright; and it was on it that Kay gazed during the long long winter's night; while by day he slept at the feet of the Snow Queen.

(to be continued)


North Mountain Trail, Augusta County, Virginia.

Of Witches and Wardrobes

Here indeed we see the likely model for Lewis' Jadis and the seduction of Edmund. But look closer and you will see a likely model in Gerda and Kay for the story of Polly Plummer and Digory Kirke as told in The Magician's Nephew. But I wonder, did this story, particularly the preceding chapter, speak to C. S. Lewis of perception overshadowing truth long before he encountered Gaius and Titius and The Green Book. This being the basis for Lewis' book: The Abolition of Man.

Both Gaius and Titius and the evil sprite make a case that the thing itself is not what determines its value, but rather our perception of it. Hans Christian Andersen's evil sprite, Gaius and Titius and the modernists who refuse to admit that there are truths and beauties greater than others all might be said to broadcast the same evil splinters. There is indeed danger in this. Eschewing the notion that there are noble things worth striving upward for, the glass shard in our eye seduces us into settling for a reality far more mundane than we are created for.

(to be continued)



"I Have a Dream..."


Dr. Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream" Speech.

Fulfilling the Dream...

Dr. King Presented a Dream, One Woman Pursued it

This is part of the 'Milestone Monday' series.

Modern Day Pioneer Woman


The Boxwood House in Culpeper, Virginia.

Today the Boxwood House Complex in Culpeper sits by the side of US 29 as a rehabilitation facility. Few know its remarkable history as the fulfillment of a dream.

Ruby Beck was an African American woman who worked for other people most of her life. In the mid-1960's she dreamed of opening her own restaurant using old family recipies. When most people would have been planning retirement she was out looking for financing.

The local banks wouldn't touch her project. They'd listen politely and then politely brush her off. Mrs. Beck was not the kind of person to give up easily. Eventually she found her way to the offices of Burke and Herbert [click to read], a locally owned Alexandria bank. They listened politely to her business plan and gave her the initial financing to go ahead.

Mrs. Beck built a building that was described in this manner: "what Howard Johnson's would build if they had less money and more taste." She used E. A. Clore chairs [click to read], custom designed with low backs for ease of movement for the servers. It was configured just like a Howard Johnson's but guests always lingered at the tables and Mrs. Beck's glassware collection soon took over the counter. Her meals always featured homemade bread, her own preserves and pickels, and fine Southern recipies. To dine at Boxwood House was to partake of Southern cuisine as high art.

Her sister Lizzie joined her in the business and was probably the head chef for most of the establishment's existence. Lizzie had been my Aunt Molly's live-in caregiver prior to coming to Boxwood House. A vivacious woman who taught us how to catch tadpoles and smallmouth bass, Lizzie was also the best marksman we knew. Her good eye became a family legend after we witnessed her shoot a snake out of a tree in the darkening evening. We never feared for her or Aunt Molly's safety living alone in rural Madison County. We did fear for anyone foolish enough to sneak around their house at night.

In those difficult days of the mid-sixties, Ruby and Lizzie established themselves as people you had better not mess with. I think their dad taught them the fine points of marksmanship and endowed his daughters with the gift of confidence. They were great ladies!

This Blog began with the story of Dr. June McCarroll [click to read], the inventor of pavement markings. Her story is one of overcoming opposition and skepticism... and her amazing perserverance in doing so.

Back to Ruby Beck [click to read]. She was remarkable enough in that she concieved the idea of owning her own restaurant. OK, there was a problem. She was living in the mid-Twentieth Century and Massive Resistance was in full force. No banks would loan her the money but she persisted until she found lenders at Burke and herbert willing to take a risk along with her.

She built her Boxwood House Restaurant around family recipies and her sister Lizzie Harrison joined her in the business as chef. Lizzie's cooking was famous. She cared for my Aunt Molly in her later years as a live-in caregiver. When Aunt Molly threw a family dinner it was an experience! Homemade bread! Homemade Preserves! Cornbread! You get the picture. Lizzie took these fine recipes to the Boxwood House and, with her sister, made history! In 1971 Ruby Beck won the “Virginia Small Businessman of the Year Award.” Ruby was the first woman in Virginia, the 2nd woman nationally and the first minority business owner in the South to receive the prestigious award. Pretty impressive!

Lizzie was pretty impressive in her own right. She was a lady who found joy in taking us down to the little pond to catch tadpoles. She was kind and tough -- one of the best marksmen we ever knew. Once she shot a snake out of a tree and became the family's own version of Alvin York.

We never feared for the safety of Aunt Molly and Lizzie, though they lived along busy U.S. 29. Lizzie's rifle skills were such legend that no locals would have messed with her. Our standing family joke was that out of town troublemakers would have been met by the following sound: "BLAM!!!, Who WAS that?"

Here's an Article on Mrs. Beck [click to read] from The Tuscaloosa News.
Here's an Article on Mrs. Beck [click to read] from the Afro American.

The Snow Queen I

Citizen Journalism with a Better Flavor


Volume XI, Issue II

The Snow Queen
By Hans Christian Andersen

The Movie Frozen is loosely based on the classic story here presented.


Ice on the Blue Ridge Parkway.

FIRST STORY. Which Treats of a Mirror and of the Splinters

Now then, let us begin. When we are at the end of the story, we shall know more than we know now: but to begin.

Once upon a time there was a wicked sprite, indeed he was the most mischievous of all sprites. One day he was in a very good humor, for he had made a mirror with the power of causing all that was good and beautiful when it was reflected therein, to look poor and mean; but that which was good-for-nothing and looked ugly was shown magnified and increased in ugliness. In this mirror the most beautiful landscapes looked like boiled spinach, and the best persons were turned into frights, or appeared to stand on their heads; their faces were so distorted that they were not to be recognized; and if anyone had a mole, you might be sure that it would be magnified and spread over both nose and mouth.

That's glorious fun!" said the sprite. If a good thought passed through a man's mind, then a grin was seen in the mirror, and the sprite laughed heartily at his clever discovery. All the little sprites who went to his school--for he kept a sprite school--told each other that a miracle had happened; and that now only, as they thought, it would be possible to see how the world really looked. They ran about with the mirror; and at last there was not a land or a person who was not represented distorted in the mirror. So then they thought they would fly up to the sky, and have a joke there. The higher they flew with the mirror, the more terribly it grinned: they could hardly hold it fast. Higher and higher still they flew, nearer and nearer to the stars, when suddenly the mirror shook so terribly with grinning, that it flew out of their hands and fell to the earth, where it was dashed in a hundred million and more pieces. And now it worked much more evil than before; for some of these pieces were hardly so large as a grain of sand, and they flew about in the wide world, and when they got into people's eyes, there they stayed; and then people saw everything perverted, or only had an eye for that which was evil. This happened because the very smallest bit had the same power which the whole mirror had possessed. Some persons even got a splinter in their heart, and then it made one shudder, for their heart became like a lump of ice. Some of the broken pieces were so large that they were used for windowpanes, through which one could not see one's friends. Other pieces were put in spectacles; and that was a sad affair when people put on their glasses to see well and rightly. Then the wicked sprite laughed till he almost choked, for all this tickled his fancy. The fine splinters still flew about in the air: and now we shall hear what happened next. [1.]

(to be continued)


Frozen Pond, Mint Springs Park, Crozet, Virginia.


Laurel in Snow, Shenandoah Mountain in Virginia.


Massanutten Mountain, Rockingham County, Virginia.


Lone Pine Tree, Raven's Roost on the Blue Ridge Parkway.

There is a moral hidden in a laugh" here, as Chaucer says. Last week an Egyptian man asked: "Why don't you Americans love your country?" The man, a Christian convert and a Pastor, leads the Community Prayer Meeting of Waynesboro area churches each month. In Egypt he was persecuted in ways that are too brutal to recount here. His wife lived as a prisoner in their home. To this man, America is a beautiful refuge from so much of the ugliness in the world.

Likewise, a gentleman from Pakistan also related a similar sentiment. I asked him what America meant to him? This man, a Sunni Muslim from birth, said to me: "My family is safe here." When I mentioned that those elements that make the Middle East so volatile are coming here, he quickly distanced himself from "those people." The problem is that "those people" find their direction in the Qur'an. But I did not argue that. Instead, I wondered at my Egyptian friend's question. Indeed it seems that the gentleman from Pakistan has a greater sense of the freedom we enjoy as Americans than many Americans. Why is this so? America's history is pretty amazing,and if you are honest in your study of it, full of Divine intervention. Yet many young people today will echo the sentiment that: "There is nothing special about America." The keepers of knowledge have, it seems, handed them splinters.

You hear it in the lecture halls of our great universities. America's sins are recounted. That would not be a bad thing in itself, for we have indeed had our shameful moments in history, but what is missing is that presentation of beautiful purpose and noble ideals that gave birth to our nation. Eschewing the notion that there ARE lofty ideals in our foundation, they rail against Colonialism and oppression, ignoring the fact that our ideals have been a great force AGAINST oppression! No wonder so many young people live in despair. They have been handed a mirror that shows them a world that is poor and mean. They have been deprived of seeing that which is truly beautiful. Is it any wonder that hearts have grown cold?

The modern thinkers are not unlike the mischievous sprite. Hans Christian Andersen's tale might just be a parable for our time. Thus we present it, in serial form for your consideration. Next week we shall see how this story was possibly an inspiration for C. S. Lewis' Narnia as first seen in The Lion. the Witch and the Wardrobe, where the Empress Jadis, the White Witch, casts Narnia into perpetual Winter.

(to be continued)

Epiphany Edition II

Citizen Journalism with a Better Flavor


Volume XI, Issue I

The Epiphany, It is Important

The traditional celebration of Christmas lasts for twelve days. It begins on Christmas Day with the celebration of the birth of the Redeemer and ends on Epiphany, which celebrates Christ's revelation to the gentiles. The MAGI, or the Wise Men came from Persia seeking a prophesied King. It is very likely that these were men who had studied the writings of Daniel and now saw the signs of the fulfillment of things he had written: "And the kingdom and dominion, and the greatness of the kingdom under the whole heaven, shall be given to the people of the saints of the most High, whose kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and all dominions shall serve and obey him." -- Daniel 7: 27

The revelation of Christ to the Gentiles also fulfills a promise made to Abraham: "By myself have I sworn, saith the Lord, for because thou hast done this thing, and hast not withheld thy son, thine only son:

That in blessing I will bless thee, and in multiplying I will multiply thy seed as the stars of the heaven, and as the sand which is upon the sea shore; and thy seed shall possess the gate of his enemies;

And in thy seed shall all the nations of the earth be blessed; because thou hast obeyed my voice." -- Genesis 22:16-18


"Partridge."

I always assumed the song: "The Twelve Days of Christmas" to be a simple frivolous song of celebration. Not so!, this song is instructive in basic truths of the Christian Faith! Here is the explanation by Father Edward Dowling:

The Twelve Days of Christmas” celebrates the official Christmas season which starts liturgically on Christmas Day and ends twelve days later on the Feast of the Epiphany. “My true love” refers to God, “me” is the individual Catholic. The “twelve lords a leaping” are the twelve basic beliefs of the Catholic Church as outlined in the Apostles Creed. The “eleven pipers piping” are the eleven Apostles who remained faithful after the treachery of Judas. The “ten ladies dancing” are the Ten Commandments. The “nine drummers drumming” are the nine choirs of angels which in those days of class distinction were thought important (or the Nine Fruits of the Holy Spirit) [click to read]. The “eight maids a milking” are the Eight Beatitudes. The “seven swans a swimming” are the Seven Sacraments (or the Seven Gifts of the Holy Spirit) [click to read]. The “six geese a laying” are the Six Commandments of the Church or the six days of creation. The “five golden rings” are the first five books of the Old Testament called the Torah which are generally considered the most sacred and important of all the Old Testament. The “four calling birds” are the Four Gospels. The “three French hens” are the Three Persons in God or the three gifts of the Wise Men. The “two turtle doves” represent the two natures in Jesus: human and divine or the two Testaments, Old and New. The “partridge” is the piece de resistance, Jesus himself, and the “pear tree” is the Cross."

Here is More Historical Background [click to read] from Father Dowling. h/t Kristina Elaine Riley Greer

The 'Old New Land'

Friedrich spoke thickly. "Don't you think, Mr. Kingscourt, that people would be much better if they were better off?"

No! If I believed that, I should not be going off to my lonely island; I should have stayed in the midst of humanity. I should have told them how to better themselves. They needn't wait to begin. Not a thousand years, not a hundred, not even fifty. Today! With the ideas, knowledge, and facilities that humanity possesses on this 31st day of December, 1902, it could save itself. No philosopher's stone, no dirigible airship is needed. Everything needful for the making of a better world exists already. And do you know, man, who could show the way? You! You Jews! Just because you're so badly off. You've nothing to lose. You could make the experimental land for humanity. Over yonder, where we were, you could create a new commonwealth. On that ancient soil, Old-New-Land!"

Friedrich heard Kingscourt's words only in a dream. He had fallen asleep. And, dreaming, he sailed through the Red Sea to meet the future."

-- Theodor Herzl, Altneuland (1902) [click to read]

Inspired by Herzl's visionary novel, we present a visionary work for the Twenty-first Century: Pontifus [click to read]...

The Gifts of the Spirit

Citizen Journalism with a Better Flavor


Volume XI, Issue Ib

The Gifts of the Spirit 

But a shoot shall sprout from the stump of Jesse, and from his roots a bud shall blossom. The spirit of the LORD shall rest upon him: A spirit of wisdom and of understanding, A spirit of counsel and of strength, A spirit of knowledge and of fear of the LORD (piety), And his delight shall be the fear of the LORD."
-- Isaiah 11:2,3a

A young friend of mine has been unfolding the Catechism behind the 'Twelve Days of Christmas' and it has been both fascinating and instructive. The 'Partridge in a Pear Tree' being Jesus on the cross and so it goes, most of the imagery referring to numeric imagery very familiar to the modern Church.

Coming to yesterday's 'Seven Swans a Swimming,' two images were provided, one being the Seven Sacraments, with which most of us are familiar, but the other being the Seven Gifts of the Spirit. Most of us are familiar with the Fruits of the Spirit: "But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control." listed in Galatians 5:22-23. 1 Corinthians 12 lists the Ministry Gifts of the Spirit, but the Seven Gifts of the Holy Spirit are found in Isaiah 11:2 and 3.

They are listed in the Catechism of the Catholic Church: [1.]

Wisdom: It is the capacity to love spiritual things more than material ones;

Understanding: In understanding, we comprehend how we need to live as followers of Christ. A person with understanding is not confused by the conflicting messages in our culture about the right way to live. The gift of understanding perfects a person's speculative reason in the apprehension of truth. It is the gift whereby self-evident principles are known;

Counsel (right judgement): With the gift of counsel/right judgment, we know the difference between right and wrong, and we choose to do what is right. A person with right judgment avoids sin and lives out the values taught by Jesus;

Fortitude (courage): With the gift of fortitude/courage, we overcome our fear and are willing to take risks as a follower of Jesus Christ. A person with courage is willing to stand up for what is right in the sight of G-d, even if it means accepting rejection, verbal abuse, or physical harm. The gift of courage allows people the firmness of mind that is required both in doing good and in enduring evil;

Knowledge: With the gift of knowledge, we understand the meaning of G-d. The gift of knowledge is more than an accumulation of facts, it also helps us to choose the right path through life;

Piety (reverence): With the gift of piety/reverence, we have a deep sense of respect for G-d and the Church. A person with reverence recognizes our total reliance on G-d and comes before G-d with humility, trust, and love. Piety is the gift whereby, at the Holy Spirit's instigation, we pay worship and duty to G-d as our Father, Aquinas writes;

Fear of the Lord (wonder and awe): With the gift of fear of the Lord/wonder and awe, we are aware of the glory and majesty of G-d. A person with wonder and awe knows that G-d is the perfection of all we desire: perfect knowledge, perfect goodness, perfect power, and perfect love. This gift is described by Aquinas as a fear of separating oneself from G-d. He describes the gift as a "filial fear," like a child's fear of offending his father, rather than a "servile fear," that is, a fear of punishment. Fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom."

The source of the traditional names of the gifts of the Holy Spirit. The Septuagint and the Vulgate read “piety” for “fear of the Lord” in its first occurrence, thus listing seven gifts.