August 28: A Word or Two, Clerk, Be Kind

"No," said Scrooge, "No, I should like to be able to say a word or two to my clerk just now!  That's all."

Scrooge has just witnessed Fezziwig being kind to his younger self.  Scrooge is feeling a little bit of remorse over his treatment of Bob Cratchit, his clerk.  It's the first time Scrooge has ever expressed any kind of guilt over any of his actions.  The old bastard is starting to learn a few lessons.

I don't have a lot of time to blog this morning.  Too much going on.

Suffice to say, Saint Marty works for Scrooge, not Fezziwig.

What kind of boss do you have?

July 20: Cold Roast, Sir Roger de Coverly, Quiet

There were more dances, and there were forfeits, and more dances, and there was cake, and there was negus, and there was a great piece of Cold Roast, and there was a great piece of Cold Boiled, and there were mince-pies, and plenty of beer.  But the great effect of the evening came after the Roast and Boiled, where the fiddler (an artful dog, mind!  The sort of man who knew his business better than you or I could have told it him!) struck up "Sir Roger de Coverly."  Then old Fezziwig stood out to dance with Mrs. Fezziwig.  Top couple, too; with a good stiff piece of work cut out for them; three or four and twenty pair of partners; people who were not to be trifled with; people who would dance, and had no notion of walking.

I have no idea what "negus" is.  Cold Roast doesn't sound too bad, but Cold Boiled sounds a little disgusting.  I've never heard the tune "Sir Roger de Coverly," and I dislike beer, preferring a good Tanqueray and tonic instead.  But I love this description of Fezziwig's Christmas party.  I love the Victorian food details, even if they do foster thoughts of salmonella (Cold Boiled meat--I don't think so!).  I love knowing the title of Victorian dance music.  I kind of picture "Sir Roger de Coverly" as being the "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" or "Macarena" of Scrooge's generation.

I like a good time as much as the next person.  I certainly enjoy good parties (and Fezziwig seems to know to to throw a good party).  However, this weekend, I'm just happy that I don't have anything to do.  No parades to watch.  No concerts to play in.  No fireworks to attend.  Just a normal weekend.  Maybe I'll get some reading done.  I'll probably go running a couple of times.  I have a couple church services to play at.  But, no huge event that involves crowds of people (unless I decide to go see The Dark Knight Rises, which I don't really have the money for).  Nope, I don't plan to do anything.  Fezziwig would be sorely disappointed in me.

Then again, my favorite time at Christmas is not when the kids are running around in fits of yuletide greed.  It's not sitting in a crowded church, singing Christmas hymns.  It's not even playing with any new toy I may receive as a gift.  No, I prefer the quiet times, the "in-between" times.  I prefer the times when the gifts are wrapped and the cookies are baked.  Before I have to head off to the relatives or get dressed up for worship services.  I like to just sit down and take a deep breath.  Stare at the Christmas tree.  Listen to some quiet Christmas music.  Peace and solitude in the middle of all the craziness.

We have reached the silent time of summer.  After July 4, things slow way down.  The days get longer, and the nights get calmer.  This is the time of summer I enjoy the most.  Nothing is pressing in my schedule.  I don't have any big plans until school resumes at the end of August.  It's an "in-between" time, and I plan to take full advantage of it. 

Don't expect to see Saint Marty dancing to "Sir Roger de Coverly" on his lawn in the next few weeks.

Anyone want a swig of negus?

January 15: Yo Ho, Fezziwig, Golden Globes

"Yo ho, my boys!" said Fezziwig.  "No more work tonight.  Christmas Eve, Dick.  Christmas, Ebenezer!  Let's have the shutters up," cried old Fezziwig, with a sharp clap of his hands, "before a man can say Jack Robinson!"

Obviously, this passage is about Scrooge's childhood boss, Fezziwig.  I really love Fezziwig.  He's a man who appreciates hard work.  But he's also a man who appreciates hard play, as well.  He's generous and knows the importance of a kind word.  He also knows the importance of relaxation.

It has been a fairly stressful weekend, this weekend before the semester commences.  I was hoping to take it easy, but I had a lot of church obligations that ate up my time.  I played the organ for mass yesterday.  Last night, I helped my wife make cookie pops for the chili lunch at church today, as well.  This morning, I taught Sunday School, played with the praise band at church, sang with the choir, and rehearsed with the praise band after worship.  Then I came home and made a dessert for dinner at my parents' house.

 I'm ready to relax.  The way I'm going to relax is by watching the Golden Globe Awards on TV with my wife and daughter this evening.  I may even spring for a bag of Scoop Fritos.  No reading.  No writing.  No thinking about work.  No thinking about blogs.  No thinking about poetry.  No thinking.  Period.  I'm ready to follow Fezziwig's instructions:  "No more work tonight."

I do have a new cartoon for y'all.  I drew it yesterday.

Saint Marty is ready to put the shutters up, quicker than you can say Jack Robinson!

Confessions of Saint Marty

January 4: "Wilder Life," Driving My Daughter, Fezziwig

“He has the power to render us happy or unhappy; to make our service light or burdensome; a pleasure or a toil.  Say that his power lies in words and looks; in things so slight and insignificant that it is impossible to add and count ‘em up:  what then?  The happiness he gives, is quite as great as if it cost a fortune.”

Scrooge says this to the Ghost of Christmas Past about his childhood employer, Fezziwig.  It’s a great description of a person who, through the generosity of his spirit, makes everyone’s lives just a little bit happier.  Fezziwig isn’t Donald Trump, going around and paying off people’s mortgages.  He isn’t Ty Pennington, showing up with a bullhorn on your front lawn one morning to announce that he’s going to tear down your old house and build you a mansion.  Fezziwig is a man who shakes your hand warmly, probably hugs you, and makes you feel as if you matter.  You’re important.

I know I’m not a Fezziwig.  I have more in common with the pre-redeemed Scrooge at the moment.  Always worried about finances and bills.  Not wanting to buy even a dollar Diet Coke at McDonald’s because that money could be spent on something necessary.  Something important.  I’m ashamed to say that I understand the miser mentality.  It comes from constant fretting about things like mortgages and car payments and gas bills.  I’m sure the current economic situation in the world is going to produce a generation of Ebenezer Scrooges instead of a generation of Fezziwigs.

This morning, I’m going to read Wendy McClure’s book The Wilder Life some more.  I’m just as engaged with the work as when I started reading it.  It sort of dovetails into my Fezziwig versus Scrooge musings.  You see, McClure embraces the simplicity of the “Laura World,” as she calls it.  McClure realizes that the world Laura Ingalls Wilder created was based on fact, but was mostly fictional.  As she delves more and more deeply into the reality of the Little House series, McClure realizes how much Wilder left out or embellished in her books.  There’re problems with racism and starvation and homesteading and greedy railroads and Native American treaties that just don’t enter the doors of the Ingalls log cabin.  If they do enter the cabin, these subjects are veiled, at best, or are painfully obvious to a 21^st century reader, at worst.

McClure, however, isn’t really looking for the truth behind the fiction, even though she encounters truth at every turn.  McClure wants to recapture the Laura World she remembers as a child.  Innocent.  A little scary.  Above all, uncomplicated by modern life’s complications.  She’s looking, in a way, for a world populated by Fezziwigs.  The wolves may be baying at the door, but, inside, you’re safe, warm, and important.  As Dickens writes, the Fezziwig happiness isn’t about money.  The Laura World happiness isn’t about money, either.  It’s about the undying human capacity for love.

When I drove my daughter to school this morning, this is what I was thinking about.  I realized I loved making my daughter and son breakfast.  Getting them dressed for school.  Packing their lunches and backpacks.  Saying things like, “Do you have your snow pants?  Your boots?”  All these “little” things that don’t cost a cent, but that show my children I love them and care about them.  That’s what the Laura World is all about.  That’s what Fezziwig is all about.  That’s what Christmas is all about.  Caring about the people around you—family, friends, acquaintances, and strangers.  There’s nothing wrong with keeping that alive all year ‘round.

At least Saint Marty doesn’t think so.