Two Sides of A Coin

"Two Davids" by David W. Landrum

Michaelangelo's David is too smooth and fair
and too Italian--too much like a boy
who'd stand with a mandolin beneath a stair
and serenade his girl; who would enjoy

good wine and food and music and would dress
in fashion, go disgusted to carnival,
study Castiglione and play chess,
greet friends at the rialto and the mall.

Coifed hair and slender build can't represent
the boy who shivered under naked stars
or sat nights by a watchfire, vigilant
for wolves, his legs and wrists circles with scars

from grappling with wild beasts, his hands calloused
from handling rocks and strong from hefting sheep
onto his shoulders when they were hurt or lost--
his nurture of the flock he had to keep.

Bernini, rather, caught the boy we see
in First Samuel: he grasps the leather sling,
fitting the stone in, aiming angrily
at blaspheming Goliath, tensed to fling

death at his forehead. The rough sheepskin pouch
that held the five smooth stones is crude and plain.
The zeal for God is etched into the crouch
of his body and he can hardly contain

his anger at the curses, at the scorn
the Philistine has flung against the host
of God. He frowns. Tomorrow Gath will mourn.
Goliath's pride will be an empty boast.

Day One of Suiting Up

When I was in the sixth grade, I bought my first J.Crew skirt. It was beautiful- navy with swirly cream designs. It made me feel oh so chic and I liked to practice my French while wearing it.

Fast forward to this past Sunday: I was visiting friends and I mention I need new jeans. I've needed them for a few months, actually, but I hardly go shopping because, well, it's boring. I only go shopping if I need something, like jeans.

Oh, and suits.

What's Right With the World?

Elizabeth Scalia posed the question “What’s Right With World” in a Monday post, focusing on the positives and not the all-too-cumbersome negatives surrounding us. She asked for 3, so I am giving 7 for my Volume Seven:

ONE

Let's just get the obvious out there: Calvin and Hobbes snowmen.

Humor is the quickest way to warm a heart and see a truth, and this kid (er, Bill Watterson) has it in spades. My siblings and I have been waiting all winter for the right kind of snow. We've only gotten a lot of wet snow, which is the worst kind. And when we do, I'm making this one:

The creativity is just phenomenal...

For more of C&H snowmen, click here. 

A Last Lecture, How Romantic

This week is National Vocation Awareness week; a favorite political science professor of mine also published his "Last Lecture" talk, which my academic honorary revived and now hosts every year. Dr. Schlueter's was definitely my favorite, and now it has been published in the Jan/ Feb 2011 issue of Touchstone! This excerpt comes from a section entitled "Personal Reflections" and includes not one but two poems that he wrote about his vocation...

Personal Reflections

I began these remarks by pointing out that my experience of death is an existential German thing rather than a Greek philosophical one. It seems appropriate therefore that I offer a more personal reflection on the romance of domesticity.

Atlas Shrugged?

I don't normally share personal correspondence on my blog, but this e-mail is so well-written that I immediately texted D. to see if I could. The writer is a dear friend; a goodly Protestant with a wise mind. I am not going to supplement this with anything, because I haven't the time and I don't want to distract from his fine words. Without further adieu, my friend:

early morning
11 January, 2011
Wisconsin

Dear Julie,

Regarding your comment today (yesterday?) about individuals and uniformity I have two thoughts. I think the question was something along the lines of "why are people so caught up with being idividuals while demanding uniformity?" (actually, I know--thanks, chat logs!). Somewhere--and I cannot for the life of me remember where--I have heard a fairly good argument on this. Essentially the idea is that our modern idea of individuality is so touted and built up, but ultimately and more likely early on lacking for any individual who pursues it. But think about this a minute longer--where do the standards or credentials of 'individuality' come from? For almost every American schoolboy they come from his culture and peers or particular group. "I gotta be me" is actually a twisted form of "I gotta be cool...like him" in most cases.