The late Queen Louise of Denmark (1817-1898)
appears in 1904 on the world's first Christmas seal, the idea of a Danish postal worker to raise money for tuberculosis. King Christian IX gives his approval to use the official portrait of his late wife which appears beneath the word Julen (Christmas). More than four million are sold that first year. King Christian appears on the 1906 seal.
Louise had six children with Christian, including: Princess Alexandra, later Queen Consort to Edward VII of the United Kingdom; Prince Vilhelm, later King George I of Greece; and Princess Dagmar, later Empress Maria Feodorovna, consort of Tsar Alexander III of Russia and the mother of Nicholas II, the last Tsar.
When I think of Denmark I always think of my aunt Ruth who was Danish by way of Manistee, Michigan, and who came to visit us at Christmas when we lived on a remote little farm in western Pennsylvania. Ruth belonged to an exclusive and limited (though it would expand as I grew older and saw the world) category of extraordinary and beautiful woman which included my aunt Frances who also came to visit at the holidays, from Miami. Unlike my mother and any other women I knew at the time, Ruth and Frances both smoked and drank and talked with their hands and wore fur coats and Ruth had the most amazing white-blonde hair that my mother said was that color from washing it with Fels-Naptha soap because if it could get out grass-stains and chlorine from pools it could certainly strip the color out of human hair, and as far as I was concerned, combined with fire-engine red nails and lipstick, and a black dress, the effect was utterly glamorous and intoxicating and part of the magic of Christmas.
Detail, Fernand Khnopff, "La vielle en hiver."
Dear Reader, I have come to realize that excerpts recently posted from 1904 the novel, (which inspired 1904 the Memoir of Then and Now), are too little of Then and not enough of Now, and in other words, are falling short of what I had intended.
Well, you understand this is all a process, don't you. Your notes and remarks have been invaluable, where would I be without feedback? Between the lines what I'm reading is:
"It hasn't grabbed me, it hasn't caught fire with me yet."
"I don't know what you think you're doing or where you're going with it and I don't mean that in a good or interesting way either."
"With all due respect, surely you don't want this to be your gift to posterity; for the love of God try something else."
Oh, and then that request from overseas about a job and money, someone in prison, you just need me to send you a money order ... and so forth. [Sorry but, gee, no.]
Meanwhile, there are so many other pressing matters to catch up on. As J. pointed out the other day, (and speaking of remote parts of Pennsylvania) there is a recent challenge to the death penalty in the Brian Kocis murder case which is certainly something for some of us to be thinking about in this holiday season. Plus I am on my way to Texas for the next few days, which is exciting and something to think about too, in a whole other way.
So here is the way I look at it: once upon a time I came home for Christmas full of shock and outrage over the torture tactics of the Shah of Iran which I had just learned about, and which may give you some idea as to what particular Christmas this might have been. "He puts people in giant toasters," I tried to explain, raising my voice at the dinner table. "He electrocutes people who oppose his policies. Like pieces of human toast." I could feel my face flushed with indignation and horror and the self-righteousness of youth.
"Well," said my mother, after having tried to listen patiently for long enough. Now pushed past the point of endurance, she sat up a little straighter and tipped her head back in a manner that indicated decision and authority. "I for one," she announced (the implication being that I could do what I wanted to, but at my own peril), "I for one am not going to spoil my holiday worrying about the Shah."
You see? Therefore, in the spirit of the wisdom of mothers everywhere, and taking the hint, so to speak, I too am not going to spoil my holiday worrying about my novel excerpts. I am putting off thinking about the whole thing for the time being. I will think about what to do and whether to continue -- perhaps less frequently but in more depth? -- at some other time. Not at Tara nor Texas probably either, but some other time. Tomorrow is another day. So is Christmas. Best wishes to all of you, always, and God Bless Us Every One.
Louise had six children with Christian, including: Princess Alexandra, later Queen Consort to Edward VII of the United Kingdom; Prince Vilhelm, later King George I of Greece; and Princess Dagmar, later Empress Maria Feodorovna, consort of Tsar Alexander III of Russia and the mother of Nicholas II, the last Tsar.
When I think of Denmark I always think of my aunt Ruth who was Danish by way of Manistee, Michigan, and who came to visit us at Christmas when we lived on a remote little farm in western Pennsylvania. Ruth belonged to an exclusive and limited (though it would expand as I grew older and saw the world) category of extraordinary and beautiful woman which included my aunt Frances who also came to visit at the holidays, from Miami. Unlike my mother and any other women I knew at the time, Ruth and Frances both smoked and drank and talked with their hands and wore fur coats and Ruth had the most amazing white-blonde hair that my mother said was that color from washing it with Fels-Naptha soap because if it could get out grass-stains and chlorine from pools it could certainly strip the color out of human hair, and as far as I was concerned, combined with fire-engine red nails and lipstick, and a black dress, the effect was utterly glamorous and intoxicating and part of the magic of Christmas.
Detail, Fernand Khnopff, "La vielle en hiver."
Dear Reader, I have come to realize that excerpts recently posted from 1904 the novel, (which inspired 1904 the Memoir of Then and Now), are too little of Then and not enough of Now, and in other words, are falling short of what I had intended.
Well, you understand this is all a process, don't you. Your notes and remarks have been invaluable, where would I be without feedback? Between the lines what I'm reading is:
"It hasn't grabbed me, it hasn't caught fire with me yet."
"I don't know what you think you're doing or where you're going with it and I don't mean that in a good or interesting way either."
"With all due respect, surely you don't want this to be your gift to posterity; for the love of God try something else."
Oh, and then that request from overseas about a job and money, someone in prison, you just need me to send you a money order ... and so forth. [Sorry but, gee, no.]
Meanwhile, there are so many other pressing matters to catch up on. As J. pointed out the other day, (and speaking of remote parts of Pennsylvania) there is a recent challenge to the death penalty in the Brian Kocis murder case which is certainly something for some of us to be thinking about in this holiday season. Plus I am on my way to Texas for the next few days, which is exciting and something to think about too, in a whole other way.
So here is the way I look at it: once upon a time I came home for Christmas full of shock and outrage over the torture tactics of the Shah of Iran which I had just learned about, and which may give you some idea as to what particular Christmas this might have been. "He puts people in giant toasters," I tried to explain, raising my voice at the dinner table. "He electrocutes people who oppose his policies. Like pieces of human toast." I could feel my face flushed with indignation and horror and the self-righteousness of youth.
"Well," said my mother, after having tried to listen patiently for long enough. Now pushed past the point of endurance, she sat up a little straighter and tipped her head back in a manner that indicated decision and authority. "I for one," she announced (the implication being that I could do what I wanted to, but at my own peril), "I for one am not going to spoil my holiday worrying about the Shah."
You see? Therefore, in the spirit of the wisdom of mothers everywhere, and taking the hint, so to speak, I too am not going to spoil my holiday worrying about my novel excerpts. I am putting off thinking about the whole thing for the time being. I will think about what to do and whether to continue -- perhaps less frequently but in more depth? -- at some other time. Not at Tara nor Texas probably either, but some other time. Tomorrow is another day. So is Christmas. Best wishes to all of you, always, and God Bless Us Every One.
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