September 4: Episodes of "Girls," Gerard Manley Hopkins, "Hurrahing in Harvest"

So, I recently acquired the ability to watch HBO on my iPad.  My sister subscribed to the premium channels, and she kindly gave me her password.  Therefore, I have been binge-watching season three of Girls.  Yes, I am not ashamed to admit that I love that series, and I have two episodes left.

I will certainly be a little depressed when I'm done with the season.  However, I have plans to watch the entire series of Breaking Bad.  Granted, it doesn't have Lena Dunham or Adam Driver, but it does have a shitload of Emmy Awards.  It is certainly a little darker than Girls, but I am not averse to darkness.

I don't like things ending.  TV series.  Jobs.  Good books.  Good movies.  Good chocolate.  I'm still getting used to the end of summer.  Not really enjoying autumn so far.  Long days of work.  Long days of teaching.  Acute bronchitis.  Short weekends.  I'm sure, in a few weeks, I'll be used to my new life.  At the moment, allow me some time to mourn.

The poem I have from G. M. Hopkins sort of celebrates the conclusion of summer.  I'm trying to get excited.  Tomorrow, I will start the countdown to Saint Marty's Day, that annual holiday of everything me.

Saint Marty will have to go up to his attic and get his Saint Marty's Day decorations down soon.

Hurrahing in Harvest

by:  Gerard Manley Hopkins

Summer ends now; now, barbarous in beauty, the stooks rise
     Around; up shove, what wind-walks! what lovely behaviour
     Of silk-sack clouds! has wilder, wilful-wavier
Meal-drift moulded ever and melted across skies?

I will, I lift up, I lift up heart, eyes,
     Down all that glory in the heavens to glean our Saviour;
     And, eyes, heart, what looks, what lips yet gave you a
Rapturous love's greeting of realer, of rounder replies?

And the azurous hung hills are his world-wielding shoulder
     Majestic--as a stallion stalwart, very-violet-sweet!--
These things, these things were here and but the beholder
     Wanting; which two when they once meet,
The heart rears wings bold and bolder
     And hurls for him, O half hurls earth for him off under his feet.

Admit it!  You watch, too.

December 23: Can I Have Seventeen-Fifty?

“Could I have seventeen-fifty?”

George begs

On October 24, 1929, George Bailey marries Mary Hatch.  They are on their way to the train station for their honeymoon, when Ernie, the cab driver, notices a mob outside the local bank.  The Great Stock Market Crash has happened, and the citizens of Bedford Falls are panicking.  George sees a mob outside the Building & Loan building, and he knows he’s in trouble.  Sure enough, everybody lines up, demanding their money.  George reasons with them.  He cajoles.  He begs.  Eventually, Mary offers up their wedding money to satisfy the crowd’s needs.  Each person asks for $20, until a little mouse of a woman named Mrs. Davis gets to the counter.  She asks the above question timidly, and George leans across the counter and kisses her.

Especially at this time of year, when all the stores are trying to get you to buy the newest gadgets, the latest DVD releases, the name-brand fashions, I can get swept up in the fever of commercialism  Yes, this post is going to be about the commercialism of Christmas.  I'm just as guilty as the next person.  I have a free laptop from the university.  At the top of my holiday wish list, however, is an iPad 2.  I have a house.  I'm praying for a bigger house.  We live in a society that's geared toward making you feel like you're never good enough, and, no matter how hard I try to resist, I always get sucked into that mentality.

Most of the people demanding money from George ask for $20.  It's a nice, round amount, and twenty dollars was probably more than most people needed in a week to survive back in 1929.  Mrs. Davis doesn't ask for more than she needs.  She asks for exactly what she needs.  I often wonder what state the world would be in if everyone was happy with just enough to get by, if we all did the math and realized we needed just $17.50.  My guess is there would be a lot less hungry people in the world.  Probably less poverty, less disease, less misery, as well.

It's Christmas, folks.  Let's all try to be satisfied, like Mrs. Davis, with just enough.  It may make us all happier people.

Saint Marty wonders if George has an iPad 2 back in his safe.  That would be just enough for him.