Praying for the Mantis

On my front flowerbed this morning, I spotted a tiny praying mantis, and right alongside it, hanging from another leaf, the ghost of a mantis, which I presume is its recently shed coat. As I watched, a large moth landed on the next stalk. I wondered if the mantis was praying that the moth would alight a bit closer. I prayed that it would--I wanted to see how the mantis would go about preparing its meal, as the moth was three times the size of the mantis, and could easily crush its head, just by sitting on it.

Still, it put me in mind of an incident that took place in Tripoli, Libya, just after I'd moved into a tiny villa in the residential area known as Georgimpopuli. In lieu of a Throwback Thursday photo, I thought I'd share that little anecdote.

My Austin front yard, June 2015. Praying mantis on flower stem in the centre. Ghost mantis on the right.

 "On Graham's heels arrived a couple of oil company workers to spray my little villa for pests. When they'd finished and I was showing them out, I noticed an enormous bright green insect on the front porch wall. It was at least four inches long, with a three-foot wing span...all right, the wings spanned about four inches, but that was scary enough for me. I grabbed one of the men by the arm and shrieked so loudly, his eyes nearly popped out of his head; poor fellow had no idea what was wrong. The language barrier didn't help, but with me jumping up and down, gesticulating wildly at the bug on the wall, he finally worked out what I wanted. He transferred the creature into a nearby flowerbed. "Grazie," I said, "Molte grazie!" I moved a bit closer to observe it. "It is beautiful," I said, pointing to the insect sitting innocently on the ground, "but I feel much better now it's ten feet away from me!" 

Unfortunately, I was misunderstood. One of the workers trod on it with his black leather loafer. I didn't want it to die; it was a splendid bug! Bloody language barrier. After they'd gone, I took a good look at it lying dead and realized that it was a praying mantis. I'd never seen one before; it was incredible. It really did look as if it was praying. I still feel guilty for having a living thing murdered. Mind you, had it been a spider, I'd have pulverized it with a shovel, just to be sure.

Ash Sprinkling

On a clear, sunny day exactly eight years ago, my brother and I picked up our mother's ashes from Steele's, the funeral directors on Chesil Street, at the bottom of Winchester High Street, just past King Alfie's statue, over the bridge by the City Mill, and up the hill to the left. Mum died on Sunday 8th April, which also happened to be Easter. Her memorial service, cremation and jolly wake took place on Wednesday 2nd May, rather late because I was in Steel Magnolias at the Austin Playhouse and before I could make it back to England, I had to coach an understudy take my place. And so it was that on Friday 4th May, we carried a big plastic urn up the High Street to our family home in Elm Road.

We were rather surprised at the amount of ash Mum had provided when she was such a little woman who'd shrunk considerably in her later years. Surely these were the remains of a giant. Nevertheless, here was Mum in a big, plastic urn so Bro and I decided that we would take her to some of her favorite coffee houses on the way home. After she retired, it was her habit to walk down town every day, even if she didn't need to, for the exercise, don't you know, and treat herself to a good cup of coffee at one of Winchester's more salubrious establishments. I always liked that routine; I hope I do the same when I retire.

First, since she'd been a tour guide for many years, we held up her ashes as we went by the Winchester Tourist Office by the Guildhall, so she could say goodbye. We lifted the urn as we passed C&H Fabrics which I believe had a little coffee shop upstairs. We visited the cathedral refectory which would've been number one on her list--she spent a lot of time there, after taking tourists around Winchester Cathedral. Finally, we went to what used to be the Spinning Wheel Cafe in the middle of the pedestrian precinct. All of us had loved that little upstairs cafe, right next to the Buttercross. In fact, we had always met outside, before going up the ancient wooden staircase to get our tea and cake. Now we sat on the Buttercross for a brief moment so she could say her last farewell.

When we got home, our sister was there to meet us. We climbed into Bro's car with the urn, also bringing Mum's funeral flowers, and made our way out of town to a particular place in the countryside. Here was the bluebell wood that Mum loved so much, where she'd requested we scatter her ashes. We weren't sure it was legal--in fact, we were pretty sure it was illegal-- but it was Mum's wish and it was too late to try and change her mind now.

We used plastic cups and set to work, scattering and sprinkling far and wide. It took ages, there was so much of it. We were crying in our grief, and laughing at the absurdity. Crying and laughing. Tears and laughter. A Nason family habit. However sad we are, we always find the joy and humor. However happy, we always laugh until tears stream. 

Every now and then, we came together in a central place to re-connect with one another, and compare our work areas---areas that were becoming increasingly grey with ash. When there was just enough of Mum left to take a small amount away with us (Mum's ashes are in the ground beneath a tree I planted in her memory outside our Austin home), we separated out the flowers and spread them all over: on tree trunks, up in branches, and along the natural pathways.

We stood back to survey our work. If we had hoped to carry out our task surreptitiously, we'd failed. There was SO MUCH ash, it was as if a small volcano had erupted and coated everything with its tangible tantrum, then fairies had come along and strewn flowers on top. What should we do? we wondered.

Then with a clap of thunder, it started to rain. We'd been so focused on our task that we hadn't noticed the grim clouds gathering overhead. At first, the rain came down a few drops at a time so we could see each one land upon a leaf or a branch, polka dots on Mum's ash coat. Then it came down more heavily and her white remains slowly disappeared into the earth. In no time at all, she had gone. We ran to the car, knowing that Mum was where she wanted to be. And that we wouldn't get into trouble for leaving her there.

FORASMUCH as it hath pleased Almighty God of his great mercy to take unto himself the soul of our dear brother here departed: we therefore commit his body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in sure and certain hope of resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ, who shall change our vile body that it may be like to his glorious body, according to the mighty working, whereby he is able to subdue all things to himself.

"Book of common prayer 1599"

On the 21st Day of Advent, 2014 -- JINGLE BELLS

I must be honest with you. I really hate this song. However, I hate it less now I've researched it. Here's a little back-story from Wikipedia:

"Jingle Bells" is one of the best-known and commonly sung American Christmas songs in the world. It was written by James Lord Pierpont (1822–1893) and published under the title "One Horse Open Sleigh" in the autumn of 1857. It has been claimed that, even though it is now associated with the Christmas and holiday season, it was actually originally written to be sung by a Sunday school choir for American Thanksgiving. However, historians dispute this, stating that it was much too "racy" to be sung by a children's church choir in the days it was written.

It is an unsettled question where and when James Lord Pierpont originally composed the song that would become known as "Jingle Bells". A plaque at 19 High Street in the center of Medford Square in Medford, Massachusetts, commemorates the "birthplace" of "Jingle Bells", and claims that Pierpont wrote the song there in 1850, at what was then the Simpson Tavern. According to the Medford Historical Society, the song was inspired by the town's popular sleigh races during the 19th century.

As mentioned, "Jingle Bells" was originally copyrighted with the name "One Horse Open Sleigh" on September 16, 1857. It was reprinted in 1859 with the revised title of "Jingle Bells, or the One Horse Open Sleigh". The song has since passed into public domain.

The date of the song's copyright casts some doubt on the theory that Pierpont wrote the song in Medford, since by that date he was the organist and music director of the Unitarian Church in Savannah, Georgia, where his brother, Rev. John Pierpont Jr., was employed. In August of the same year, James Pierpont married the daughter of the mayor of Savannah. He stayed on in the city even after the church closed due to its abolitionist leanings.

"Jingle Bells" was often used as a drinking song at parties: people would jingle the ice in their glasses as they sung. The double-meaning of "upsot" was thought humorous, and a sleigh ride gave an unescorted couple a rare chance to be together, unchaperoned, in distant woods or fields, with all the opportunities that afforded. Sleigh rides were the nineteenth-century equivalent of taking a girl to a drive-in movie theatre in the 1950s and early 1960s, so there was a somewhat suggestive and scintillating aspect to the song that is often now unrecognized.

The 1857 lyrics differed slightly from those we know today. It is unknown who replaced the words with those of the modern version.

Dashing thro' the snow,
In a one-horse open sleigh,
O'er the hills we go,
Laughing all the way;
Bells on bobtail ring,
Making spirits bright,
Oh what sport to ride and sing
A sleighing song tonight.
|: chorus :|

Jingle bells, jingle bells,
Jingle all the way;
Oh! what joy it is to ride
In a one-horse open sleigh.

A day or two ago
I tho't I'd take a ride
And soon Miss Fannie Bright
Was seated by my side.
The horse was lean and lank
Misfortune seemed his lot
He got into a drifted bank
And we—we got upsot.
|: chorus :|

A day or two ago,
The story I must tell
I went out on the snow
And on my back I fell;
A gent was riding by
In a one-horse open sleigh,
He laughed as there I sprawling lie,
But quickly drove away,
|: chorus :|

Now the ground is white
Go it while you're young,
Take the girls tonight
And sing this sleighing song;
Just get a bob-tailed bay
Two forty is his speed
Hitch him to an open sleigh
And crack, you'll take the lead.
|: chorus :|

On the 20th Day of Advent, 2014 -- A SINGLE GIRL CHRISTMAS IN DUBAI

When I worked for an irrigation/landscaping company near the Dubai Trade Centre, I was provided a charming apartment in Satwa, just off what we called "Satwa High Street," quite close to Jumeirah beach. The apartment building was named, "The Pizza Inn Building" though it had a real name which I cannot remember. I was a "Satwa Sally" -- a single girl living alone and supporting myself. A married, non-working woman who lived in Jumeirah was referred to as, "a Jumeirah Jane."

Here is my apartment at Christmas, 1991. I worked really hard to get my decorated tree high enough to be seen through the window so it would be the one lone Christmas tree visible in that sandy part of town. As you will observe from the exterior shots, there was no way it was going to work. And it didn't.

Christmas tree at third floor window

Take a look at the drinks table on the left. I'm stunned to note the amount of available booze and wish I could remember if this was purchased just for Christmas or if I always stocked my bar so well. I didn't like most of the stuff I had to offer.

The Pizza Inn Building, rear view

Check out the sandy car park where I used to park my snazzy little Mazda. It's covered with buildings now.

Close up on rear view of my apartment building, nothing visible.

Look above the green awning for the second floor (third floor) window just to the left. Using English language, the shops are on the ground floor, then there is the first floor, and I lived on the second floor. In the US, the ground floor would be called the first floor so I lived on the third floor. The two French windows on the left were mine, and the square window is the Christmas tree window. Then the little window directly above the green awning was mine, and the big balcony to the right is mine. Any questions?

To give you some perspective, here are shots of the Pizza Inn Building from the side and the front. It's all changed now apparently but it was a brilliant place to live back in the early 1990s.
 

Pizza Inn Building on left, Satwa High Street looking towards the Trade Centre

Pizza Inn Building, front view, from other side of Satwa High Street

On the 19th Day of Advent, 2014 -- THE LAST OF THE SPIRITS

And now, as we get closer to Christmas Day itself, here's Ebenezer Scrooge's confrontation with "The Last of the Spirits"

Scrooge with the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come

Chapter 4 - The Last of the Spirits

The Phantom slowly, gravely, silently approached. When it came, Scrooge bent down upon his knee; for in the very air through which this Spirit moved it seemed to scatter gloom and mystery.

It was shrouded in a deep black garment, which concealed its head, its face, its form, and left nothing of it visible save one outstretched hand. But for this it would have been difficult to detach its figure from the night, and separate it from the darkness by which it was surrounded.

He felt that it was tall and stately when it came beside him, and that its mysterious presence filled him with a solemn dread. He knew no more, for the Spirit neither spoke nor moved.

"I am in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come?'' said Scrooge.

The Spirit answered not, but pointed onward with its hand.

"You are about to show me shadows of the things that have not happened, but will happen in the time before us,'' Scrooge pursued. "Is that so, Spirit?''

The upper portion of the garment was contracted for an instant in its folds, as if the Spirit had inclined its head. That was the only answer he received.

Although well used to ghostly company by this time, Scrooge feared the silent shape so much that his legs trembled beneath him, and he found that he could hardly stand when he prepared to follow it. The Spirit paused a moment, as observing his condition, and giving him time to recover.

But Scrooge was all the worse for this. It thrilled him with a vague uncertain horror, to know that behind the dusky shroud, there were ghostly eyes intently fixed upon him, while he, though he stretched his own to the utmost, could see nothing but a spectral hand and one great heap of black.

"Ghost of the Future!'' he exclaimed, "I fear you more than any spectre I have seen. But as I know your purpose is to do me good, and as I hope to live to be another man from what I was, I am prepared to bear you company, and do it with a thankful heart. Will you not speak to me?''

It gave him no reply. The hand was pointed straight before them.

"Lead on!'' said Scrooge. "Lead on! The night is waning fast, and it is precious time to me, I know. Lead on, Spirit!''

On the 18th Day of Advent, 2014 -- PANTO IN LIBYA, 1985

Those who have followed my ramblings about life in Libya, both from TEA IN TRIPOLI and my blogs, will know that the search for seasonal spirit during my only Christmas in that country was rigorous and futile. I've always wondered whether my mood could have been lifted if the Tripoli Players' pantomime, Puss in Boots, had been mounted before Christmas rather than in early spring. Either way, here is the program from that show, which took place in the Recreation Hall at the Oil Companies School in Tripoli.

Please note that, while I was invited to audition for this show, I politely declined, being far too shy in those days to take the stage, even though I secretly dreamed of being an actress. My name -- Berni Willett, as it was back then -- is listed on page 3 under "Make-up/Hair." This is a joke in itself: any of my theatre colleagues will confirm that my talents at hair and make-up are laughable to this day. The title, "General Dogsbody #1" might've suited me much better.

On the 17th Day of Advent, 2014 -- GIFT GIVING

Given the frenzy of gift-giving that takes place around the holiday season, I've been researching the history of Christmas presents. I found the following in my thrift store almanack:

Gift-giving at the winter solstice goes back to the Roman festivals of Saturnalia and Kalends. At first the gifts consisted simply of twigs from a sacred grove as good  luck emblems. That soon escalated, however, and food, candles, statues of gods, and small pieces of jewelry became the standard gifts. These presents were called strenae and survive still in France, where gifts called etrennes are exchanged in January. To the early Church, gift-giving at this time was a pagan holdover and therefore, severely frowned upon. However, the people would not part with it, and some justification was found in the gift-giving of the Magi and later figures such as St. Nicholas. So by the Middle Ages, gift-giving was accepted. This was especially true in the court of kings, where a formal exchange of gifts was often very carefully regulated as to the correct amount to be spent. Today, gift-giving is such an important part of our festivities that the whole year's budget has to be carefully planned to allow for the expense of Christmas presents, often with the help of a Christmas club, and retail firms count on December as their biggest sales month of the year. That's a far step from passing out a few evergreen wigs for good luck.

The Christmas Almanack, Gerard and Patricia Del Re
Originally published, 1944
This edition, 1979