A Dreadful Feast

"Good King Wencelas" is a favorite of mine, taught to me by my endearing but rather odd Czech pediatrician.

The sanitized story told to children is that a king saw a peasant struggling through the snow, gathering firewood (winter fuuuuuuuuu-ooh-el...) and saying to a page, "Boy, where does he live?" Upon being given an address, king and page walk ten miles through the snow, barefoot. The page shivers horribly, the king tells him to walk in his footprints. By strange miracle, the footprints elicit a beautiful heat and the barefoot boy walks behind his monarch in comfort.

Popes have repeated this walk, and it's beautiful to see. But the story is bunk. 

 

(Beautiful song, though!)

 The truth (in as short a time as I can): Wencelas I was Duke of Bohemia, paying homages not to the Holy Roman Empire, but to East Francia. He was a gentle man, too gentle... a scholar as opposed to leader. His reforms caused strife. Brother Boleslav (Great Glory, Bringer of glory... Slavic names are more abstract.) kills him on his way to Mass one fine winter's day. The page kills one of Boleslav's men, and goes into the woods. He too is found and murdered. Boleslav's wife has a child that day. In honor of the horrid deed of murder, and feeling sad and sick, Boleslav names the baby "Strachkvas"- A dreadful feast. (Such a marvelous name--- oops, sorry, kiddo, we committed murder, and now that I am feeling guilty, you are permanently named in honor of this act.)

Boleslav was called "The Cruel"... but he did great things for Bohemia (if not being someone I'd ever trust to write a book of Slavic Baby Names.)

Today's Show Is Brought To You By The Letter E

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As a child, I, like many born between 1969 and now enjoyed Sesame Street. I got it, by virtue of living east of Canada, and in a region that supports "Western New York and Southern Ontario", in a French-English format, too...usually around two PM. I would watch both the English and French versions. My French sadly, is limited to "Chicken and wine" (Coq au vin", )shut your mouth "Ferme ta bouche!",  "MERDE!" (Damn, and no, like shut your mouth, I did not learn that from Sesame Street) and the occasional bits of helpful information from cereal boxes and tampon boxes read during epic fits of boredom. I can somewhat count to 10, (Somewhat, in that if I were asked, I'd choke and leave out numbers...been way too long) and know how to greet people. 

My favorite character wasn't Elmo, whom I see is relatively recent, perhaps maybe only as old as I. When I saw his muppeteer on a show, and saw that Elmo is voiced by a large man with a lovely Samuel L. Jackson patter, I was shocked! 

No, I adored Grover. Flower the Gosh-Darned Skunk of Many Trials and I would be settled before PBS, often with cookies and a sippy cup of juice, and would watch the furry blue caped crusader with a sense of wonder. Well, I would, I have no idea what cotton-stuffed toy skunks think. There's one for the Land Of Misfit Toys, by the way!

Grover, despite the fact that he is small, clumsy, and not necessarily a good waiter, or a superhero as we typically see them, was perfect for me. He tried, gosh darn it, he tried! And he looked so gosh-darned cute while doing it, that he charmed me. And still does, all these years later. 
I didn't realize that he was voiced by the voice of Audrey II in "Little Shop of Horrors" until years later. I see Frank Oz and Grover as separate beings even now. 

I love the little blue oddball, clumsy and sweet, and always-wide-eyed and ready to try his best. 
I don't think I'll ever stop. 

Finding an actual Grover Doll, not part of a plastic thingamabobber, was tough. I see Ernies, Elmos, Abbey Cadabeys, and Cookie Monsters everywhere. I was shocked silly by Miss Piggy in Playboy! (OY!) And last time I knew, the only Fozzie and Kermit toys were part of a Christmas thing at McDonalds in the 80's. 
But... for $10.86, I found a big, floppy, Grover, looking just as cute and blue and fuzzy as he always did. Granted, his position in the box is frightening...golly, he looks like he's being crucified! (And screaming, I should let him out of there, my imagination is running away with me!) I am shocked: I think I'm becoming a relic. All the Muppets I remember are from a time when Muppets were just Muppets. There were no "Classic Muppets"- they just were (Today's episode is brought to you by the Letter E for Existentialism! And our special guest, Fredrich Nietzsche!) Now it's Classic Muppets. Obviously, these are more for the late-20's-to-perhaps-early 50s aged parents. Well, maybe I am a relic, I hear it often enough, actually. Screw it. I will still love my Grover. Here is a cutie from the 70s... I find that this song actually works like a charm. It was used here and there in my speech therapy class. And of course, the lovely Ms. Madelyn Kahn! :)

Happy Father's Day, 2011

A very Happy Father's Day
To the men who stay, who try like hell through all kinds of craziness... to those with human babies, to those with little fuzzballs who meow or bark to get their attention.

I don't celebrate it much, haven't since 1995, but here's a special Father's Day gift, from me, to you.

And Dad, happy Father's Day, thanks for 12 years of love, patience and fighting for me...and making me learn to write, read, and tell time, and tie my shoes, with your own brand of teaching, acquired at camps for the disabled and in the Franciscan priesthood. I raise a glass of wine in your honor. Love you, miss you.

Christmas 1983, the only pic I have digitalized thus far. (Trying on the pic of him in monk's robes, which, with his bald spot, gave him a look reminiscent of Francis, and gave the nickname, the Capuchin Monk when he wore gray)  Yes, yes, that is me in a funny hat. He always yelled at me to wear one, so when I did and do, I like to wear one jauntily. This is the man who taught me to be a happy goofball. Even when sick, and in pain from numerous diabetic complications, you could always count on his weird sense of humor.
~Love, Beth