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Putna Monastery - Suceava County - Romania
Wall decorations - Beelzebub
Beelzebub or Beel-Zebub is another name for the Devil.
In later Christian and Biblical sources, he is referred to as another name for Devil, and in Christian demonology, is one of the seven princes of Hell according to Catholic views on Hell.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beelzebub
The Putna monastery (Romanian: Mănăstirea Putna) is a Romanian Orthodox monastery, one of the most important cultural, religious and artistic centers established in medieval Moldavia; as with many others, it was built and dedicated by Prince Stephen the Great. Putna was founded on the lands perambulated by the Putna (which has its source in the Obcina Mare mountains, Bukovina). Stephen the Great is famous for building and influencing the building of dozens of churches and monasteries all over Moldavia (allegedly, he founded a religious edifice after each important military victory). The Putna Monastery houses the tombs of Stephen —nowadays, a place of pilgrimage —, and several of his family members. The icon veils and tombstones are held as fine examples of Moldavian art in Stephen the Great’s time.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Putna_Monastery
Interesting to read:
An important school of copiers and miniaturists functioned within the monastery. There were copied and decorated religious texts, and during the 10th and the 16th centuries an elementary school and a medium school functioned here, where the chronicle writers and the clergy of Moldavia were formed.
The Moldavian embroidery is one of the most original creations of Romanian mediaeval art. The icon waves and the tomb covers are evidence of the creative spirit of the Moldavian artists of Stephen the Great’s time. The Putna Monastery can be proud of the rich collection of priests clothes, most of them forming a true gallery of portraits. Among the most original pieces, there are the priests clothes with prophets given to the monastery by Stephen the Great. It dates from 1490, and presents the twelve prophets. The tombstone of Maria of Mangop, the descendant of the Paleologs, is of undoubted value, too.
sites.google.com/site/naturezoterik/monastery/putna-monas...
"My father’s family name being Pirrip, and my Christian name Philip, my infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Pip. So, I called myself Pip, and came to be called Pip.
I give Pirrip as my father’s family name, on the authority of his tombstone and my sister — Mrs. Joe Gargery, who married the blacksmith. As I never saw my father or my mother, and never saw any likeness of either of them (for their days were long before the days of photographs), my first fancies regarding what they were like, were unreasonably derived from their tombstones. The shape of the letters on my father’s, gave me an odd idea that he was a square, stout, dark man, with curly black hair. From the character and turn of the inscription, “Also Georgiana Wife of the Above,” I drew a childish conclusion that my mother was freckled and sickly. To five little stone lozenges, each about a foot and a half long, which were arranged in a neat row beside their grave, and were sacred to the memory of five little brothers of mine — who gave up trying to get a living, exceedingly early in that universal struggle — I am indebted for a belief I religiously entertained that they had all been born on their backs with their hands in their trousers—pockets, and had never taken them out in this state of existence.
Ours was the marsh country, down by the river, within, as the river wound, twenty miles of the sea. My first most vivid and broad impression of the identity of things, seems to me to have been gained on a memorable raw afternoon towards evening. At such a time I found out for certain, that this bleak place overgrown with nettles was the churchyard; and that Philip Pirrip, late of this parish, and also Georgiana wife of the above, were dead and buried; and that Alexander, Bartholomew, Abraham, Tobias, and Roger, infant children of the aforesaid, were also dead and buried; and that the dark flat wilderness beyond the churchyard, intersected with dykes and mounds and gates, with scattered cattle feeding on it, was the marshes; and that the low leaden line beyond, was the river; and that the distant savage lair from which the wind was rushing, was the sea; and that the small bundle of shivers growing afraid of it all and beginning to cry, was Pip."
So opens Great Expectations. And it is this very churchyard, although at night, and misty that those first lines were set. In the next paragraph, the criminal, Magwitch, appears.
St Mary now lies at the end of a dead end lane, leading out towards the banks of the nearby River Thames, with the freight only line to Grain passing a field length's away. In short, you don't pass this way by accident, and will be lucky to find it, as some of the locals have been spinning the road signs round.
It is yet another wonderful bright winters day here in The Garden of England, and I was out here with Jools re-doing some shots I had messed up last time was here, and anyway, on that day the church was full of scarecrows for a festival.
As we were the first ones here today, the ancient carved door was closed, so we eased it open and went inside.
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Difficult to find, but more than worth the effort. It consists of a Norman nave and chancel to which a south aisle and chapel were added in the mid-fourteenth century. The aisle and chapel are now laid out as the main nave and chancel. The exterior has wonderful striped walls, like a smaller version of nearby Cliffe, whilst the fourteenth-century south door is the highly carved original. Inside the contemporary pulpit is one of the earliest in the county with six carved traceried panels. Behind it is a fifteenth-century rood screen, which, despite the loss of its loft, is a surprising survival. In the north-east corner of the Lady Chapel is a table tomb whose top is made up from the original stone altar slab, or mensa, with its five consecration crosses showing prominently. In the south wall of the same chapel is a medieval aumbry with its original hinged door. The stained glass is all nineteenth and twentieth century - the excellent south chancel window showing the Agony in the Garden is dated 1863 unfortunately by an unidentified artist. Of the same date is the tortoise stove in the north aisle, which displays on its lid the motto 'Slow but sure combustion'. The church is excellently maintained by The Churches Conservation Trust - the congregation worshipping in a replacement church in the village, built in 1860 by E.W. Stephens of Maidstone.
www.kentchurches.info/church.asp?p=Higham+1
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THE next parish northward from Merston is HIGHAM, which in antient records is variously written Hecham, Hegham, and Heabham.
It was from the reign of king Stephen till about the reign of king Edward III. frequently called Lillechurch, alias Higham; the former of which names it took from a manor or ville in this parish, where a priory was built, but in later times it seems to have been called by its former name of Higham only, that of Lillechurch being entirely omitted.
THIS PARISH is situated on the north side of the London high road, nearly opposite to Shorne. It lies low adjoining to the marshes, the river Thames being its northern boundary, of course the air is very unhealthy, and much subject to intermittents, a satality which attends in general all those parishes, which lie on the north side of the high London road as far as Canterbury, and thence again to the uplands of the Isle of Thanet. Higham is about four miles in extent from north-west to south-east, and but little more than a mile in breadth. The surface is slat, and the soil in general very fertile, excepting towards the eastern part of it, where it is high ground and light land. The village and church stand close to, and entirely exposed to the marshes, which comprehend nearly one half of the parish. The nunnery, now called the Abbey, was situated not far from the east end of the church, where the farm-house, of which the sides and back part are built of stone, with windows of a gothic orm, discovers marks of some antiquity, and seems to have been a part of the abbey, but it is supposed to have been only a part of some of the offices, (fn. 1) there being in the field on the south side many appearances of foundations, and contiguous to the farm-yard there remains some part of the thick stone wall covered with ivy, being the inclosure of the abbey, and was carried quite round the yard. About a mile from the church, near the road to Cliff, is Lillechurch-house, where the priory or abbey of Higham, as it is now called, is supposed to have been first erected; behind the garden of which, in a field called Church-place, many human bones have been found. At the east end of the parish, in the road from Frindsbury to Cliff, is the estate of Mockbeggar, and on the submit of the hill southward, The mansion of Hermitage, below which, in the flat country, at an equal distance from the church, is the manor and hamlet of Higham-ridgeway, a name plainly derived from the antient causeway through it, leading towards the river. Plautius, the Roman general, under the emperor Claudius, in the year of Christ, 43, is said to have passed the river Thames from Essex into Kent, near the mouth of it, with his army, in pursuit of the flying Britons, who being acquainted with the firm and fordable places of the river, passed it easily. (fn. 2) This passage is considered to have been from East Tilbury, in Essex, across the river to Higham. (fn. 3) Between these places there was a ferry on the river for many ages after, the method of intercourse between the two counties of Kent and Essex for all these parts, and it continued so till the dissolution of the abbey here; before which time, Higham was likewise the place for shipping and unshipping corn and goods in great quantities from this part of the county to and from London and elsewhere. The probability of this having been a frequented ford or passage in the time of the Romans, is strengthened by the visible remains of the raised causeway, or road, near thirty feet wide, leading from the Thames side through the marshes by Higham, southward to this ridgeway before-mentioned, and thence across the London high road on Gads-hill to Shorne ridgeway, about half a mile beyond which it joins the Roman Watling-street-road, near the entrance into Cobham park.
In the pleas of the crown in the 21st year of king Edward I. the prioress of the nunnery of Higham was found liable to maintain a bridge and causeway that led from Higham down to the river Thames, in order to give the better and easter passage to such as would ferry from hence over into Essex.
This parish, among others in this neighbourhood, was antiently bound to contribute to the repair of the ninth pier of Rochester bridge, as the manor of Okely was to the fourth pier of it. (fn. 4)
In queen Elizabeth's reign there was a fort or bulwark at Higham for the defence of the river Thames, under the direction of a captain, soldiers, &c. (fn. 5)
HIGHAM was part of the possessions with which William the Conqueror enriched his half-brother, Odo, bishop of Baieux and earl of Kent, under the general title of whose lands, it is thus entered in the book of Domesday, taken in the year 1080.
The same Adam holds Hecham of the bishop (of Baieux). It was taxed at 5 sulings. The arable land is 12 carucates. In demesne there are 3 carucates, and 24 villeins, with 12 borderers having 6 carucates and an half. There are 20 servants, and 30 acres of meadow. There is a church, and 1 mill of 10 shillings, and a fishery of 3 shillings, and in Exesle pasture for 200 sheep. In the time of king Edward the Confessor, it was worth 12 pounds, and afterwards 6 pounds, now 15 pounds.
In the time of king Edward, Goduin, the son of Carli and Toli, held this land for two manors.
These were the two manors of Higham and Lillechurch, which on the disgrace of bishop Odo, about four years afterwards, were with the rest of his estates, consiscated to the crown, where they remained till king Stephen, together with Matilda his queen, in the 14th year of his reign, gave them by the name of the manor of Lillechurch, with its appurtenances, under which name both manors seem then to have been comprehended, being part of her inheritance, with other premises, to William de Ipre, in exchange for the manor for Fauresham.
KING STEPHEN afterwards founded a NUNNERY, of the Benedictine order, at Lillechurch in Higham, (fn. 6) to which his daughter, the princess Mary, as is mentioned in a deed, retired cum monialibus suis quas tanquam in proprietate sua recepit. (fn. 7) She afterwards became abbess of Rumsey.
After the death of king Stephen, William de Ipre above mentioned, earl of Kent, was, with the rest of the Flemish, of whom he was principal, forced to abandon this kingdom, and their estates were all seized, by which this manor came again to the crown; but in the 6th year of king John, the nuns gave the king one hundred pounds for his grant of the manor of Lille cherche; after which, king Henry III. in his 11th year, granted and confirmed to the abbey of St. Mary of Sulpice, in Bourges, and to the prioress and nuns of Lillecherche, that manor, in pure and perpetual alms, with all its appurtenances, and all liberties and free customs belonging to it, by which it should seem that this house had then some dependence on that abbey; and he further granted to the prioress and nuns, to have one fair at Lillecherche for three days yearly, on the day of St. Michael, and two days afterwards; and that they should possess them, and in like manner as the grant, which they had of his father, king John, plainly testified. (fn. 8)
King Henry, in his 50th year, granted to the prioress and nuns of Lillechurch an exemption from the suit they were yearly used to make at his court of the honor of Boloigne, at St. Martin the Great in London, for their demesne lands in the manor of Lillecherche. King Edward I. in his 16th year, confirmed the above fair to the prioress and nuns there.
This monastery was subject to the visitation of the bishops of Rochester; and accordingly Hamo de Heth, bishop of Rochester, in 1320, visited it, and professed eight nuns here; as he did again in 1328, when he buried Joane de Hadloe, prioress of this house, and he afterwards confirmed Maud de Colcestre prioress in her place, at Greenwich. At what time this priory was removed from Lillechurch, where it was certainly first built, to where the ruins are still visible, near the present church of Higham, is no where mentioned, nor is there any clue leading to discover it. That it was so those ruins, as well as the change of the name of it, are convincing proofs; nor is there any thing further worth mentioning relating to it till king Henry VII's reign, at which time the manors of Higham and Lillecherche, with their lands and appurtenances, conti nued in the possession of the prioress; in the 17th year of which reign, this house was become almost deserted, for it appeared then, on the election of a prioress, that there were only a sub-prioress and two nuns belonging to it, though there had been in former times sixteen belonging to it. Soon after which, in 1548, Margaret, countess of Richmond and Derby, having begun the foundation of St. John's college, in Cambridge, died, and left her executors to carry on the design; one of these was John Fisher, bishop of Rochester, who being himself a learned man, and greatly anxious for the increase of learning, obtained licence of king Henry VIII. to dissolve this monastery with that of Bromhall, in Berkshire, that the lands and revenues of them might be annexed towards the better support and maintenance of the above college. (fn. 9) Accordingly, about the year 1521, these nunneries were dissolved, (fn. 10) and, with their revenues, were surrendered into the hands of the crown; three years after which, the master and fellows of that college obtained, at the instance of bishop Fisher, of the king and pope Clement VII. these priories, with their appurtenances, to be transferred and confirmed for ever to their college, (fn. 11) where the inheritance of the scite of this priory, or abbey as it is now called, the manor and church of Higham, with the manor of Lillichurch, and the rest of the lands and revenues belonging to it here and elsewhere, continue at this time. The lease of these manors, with the scite of the abbey, and the lands in this parish belonging to it, were some years ago purchased by Mr. Rich. Hornsby, of Horton Kirkby in this county, of Mr. Tho. Peake. Mr. Hornsby died possessed of it within these few years, since which his interest in this estate has been sold to Mr. Thomas Williams and Mr. Thomas Smith, gent. of Dartford, the former of whom sold it to Mr. John Prebble, who is the present lessee of them.
Prioresses of Higham.
MARY, daughter of king Stephen, first prioress. (fn. 12)
ALICIA, JOANE, Named in several charters.
ACELINA, anno 50 king Henry III. (fn. 13)
AMPHELICIA, anno 16 king Edward I.
MATILDA, succeeded anno 17 king Edward I.
JOANE DE HADLOE, obt. anno 3 king Edward III. (fn. 14)
MAUD DE COLCESTRE, chosen in her room. (fn. 15)
ELIZABETH, or ISABEL, anno 18 and 31 king Edward III
CECILIA, anno 38 and 52 of the same reign.
JOANE DE COBEHAM, anno 15 and 18 of king Richard II
JOANE SOANE, succeeded anno 19 of the same reign.
ALICE PECKHAM, anno 7 king Henry V.
ISABEL, anno 25 king Henry VI.
ELIZABETA BRADFORTH, resig. anno 17 king Henry VII. (fn. 16)
AGNES SWAINE, succeeded. (fn. 17)
MARGARET HILDERDEN, anno 4 king Henry VIII.
ANCHORET UNGOTHORPE, alias OWGLETHORPE, anno 6 king Henry VIII. She died Jan. 31, anno 12 of the same reign, after which there was not another prioress elected.
GREAT and LITTLE OKELY are two reputed manors in this parish, which derive their name from ac, or ake, an oak, and ley, a field, in Saxon, Aclea, a place in which there is plenty of oaks. In the reign of king John, John le Brun held half a knight's fee in Acle, of William de Clovile, as he did of Warine de Montchensie. (fn. 18)
In the 7th year of Edward I. both these estates were in the possession of William de St. Clere, (fn. 19) the former being held, as half a knight's fee, of Warine de Montchensie, as of his manor of Swanescombe; and the latter, as half a knight's fee, of the bishop of Rochester. Soon after which these estates were possessed by two different branches of this family: Great Okeley descended to Nicholas de St. Clere, from whom it passed to Walter Neile, who, as well as his descendants, were lessess to the abbey of Higham, for great part of their possessions in this parish. One of his descendants, in the reign of king Henry VII. alienated it to John Sedley, esq. of Southfleet, in this county, one of the auditors of the exchequer to that prince, whose descendant, Sir Charles Sedley, (fn. 20) bart. in the reign of king Charles II. passed away this manor by sale to Mr. Shales, of Portsmouth, who not long afterwards sold it to Peter Burrell, esq. of Beckenham, in this county, whose descendant the Right Hon. Peter lord Gwydir is the present possessor of it.
LITTLE OKELEY manor descended from William de St. Clere, who possessed it, as has been beforementioned, in the 7th year of king Edward I. to Nicholas de Clere, and from him to John de St. Clere, who paid respective aid for it in the 20th year of king Edward III. at making the Black Prince a knight, as half a knight's fee, held of the bishop of Rochester. From this family it passed, after some intermission, to that of Cholmeley; one of whom, Sir Roger Cholmeley of London, died possessed of this manor, and left it to one of his daughters and coheirs, among other premises. She married Mr. Beckwith, by whom she had one son, Roger, and two daughters, Elizabeth and Frances, She afterwards married Christopher Kenne, esq. of Kenne, in Somersetshire, who was possessed of it in her right, anno 22 queen Elizabeth; and then, having levied a fine of it, sold it to Thompson; and he, in the reign of king Charles I. alienated it to Best, who passed it away by sale to Sir Charles Sedley, bart. from whom it went the same way to Farnham Aldersey, one of whose descendants sold it to Mr. Wm. Gates, gent. of Rochester, on whose death, in 1768, it came to his son of the same name, and his eldest son, Mr. George Gates, attorney at law and town clerk of Rochester, died possessed of it s.p. in 1792, and his sisters are now entitled to it.
There are no courts held for either Great or Little Okeley manors.
THE HERMITAGE is a pleasant seat in this parish, situated at almost the south-east extremity of it, about a mile northward from the London road to Dover. It stands on a hill, and commands a most extensive prospect both of the Medway and Thames, the Channel below the Nore, and a vast tract of country both in Kent and Essex.
This seat was new built by Sir Francis Head, bart. who inclosed a park round it (since disparked) and greatly improved the adjoining grounds. He resided here, and died possessed of it, with the manor of Higham Ridgway, and other estates in this parish, in 1768, and was buried in a vault in Higham church. He was descended from Richard Head, of Rochester, who by Anne, daughter of William Hartridge, of Cranbrooke, in this county, had issue four sons; of whom Richard, the second, was advanced to the dignity of a baronet, on June 19, 1676. He had three wives, first, Elizabeth, daughter and coheir of Francis Merrick, alderman of Rochester, by whom he had three sons; Francis, of whom hereafter; Henry, who married Elizabeth, daughter of Richard Summers, esq. and Merrick, D. D. who married Elizabeth, daughter of Robert Dixon, D. D. prebendary of Rochester, by whom he left a daughter, Elizabeth, married to Theophilus Delangle; Dr. Head was rector of Leyborne and Ulcombe, in this county, and died in 1686, and lies buried in Leyborne church—And also one daughter, Elizabeth, married to Sir Robert Faunce, of Maidstone, in this county. Secondly, Elizabeth, daughter and coheir of Mr. Willey, of Wrotham, by whom he had one son, Henry, who married the daughter and coheir of John Dawes, merchant, of London, by whom he had Dawes Head, ancestor of the present baronet, now in Virginia; and also two daughters, Jane, first married to Herbert Price, esq. and afterwards to John Boys, esq. of Hode; and Frances, first married to Thomas Poley, esq. and afterwards to Adam Lawry, of Rochester. Thirdly, Anne, daughter of William Kingsley, D. D. archdeacon of Canterbury, and relict of John Boys, esq. by whom he had no issue.
Sir Richard Head above mentioned, served several times in parliament for the city of Rochester. He died in 1689, and lies buried in Rochester cathedral, having been a good benefactor to the poor of St. Nicholas's parish, in that city.
Francis Head, esq. barrister at law, eldest son of Sir Richard, married Sarah, only daughter of Sir Geo. Ent, of London, M. D. who afterwards married Sir Paul Barrett, by whom he had six children. He died in his father's life time, in 1678, and was buried in the chancel of St. Margaret's church, Rochester; and by his will gave his house, pleasantly situated in St. Margaret's, to that see, for the residence of the bishop and his successors. Only two of his children survived him, viz. Sarah, married to John Lynch, esq. of Groves; and a son, Francis, who succeeded his grandfather in titles and estate, and resided at Canterbury, He married Margaret, daughter and coheir of James Smithbye, esq. by whom he had six sons and three daughters; he died, and was buried in St. Mildred's church, in Canterbury, in 1716. Of the above children, only four sons and one daughter survived him, viz. Sir Richard, his successor, who died unmarried, in 1721; Sir Francis, of whom hereafter; James Head, esq. barrister at law, who died unmarried in 1727, and was buried at Ickham, in this county; and Sir John Head, bart. who was D.D. and prebendary and archdeacon of Canterbury, and succeeded his brother, Sir Francis, but died in 1769, without surviving issue, though he was twice married; first, to Jane, daughter of the Rev. Mr. Peter Leigh, by whom he had several children, who all died before him; secondly, in 1751, Jane, sister of Wm. Geekie, D.D. prebendary of Canterbury, who survived him, but by whom he had no issue.
Anne, the surviving daughter of Sir Francis Head, married William Egerton, LL.D. prebendary of Canterbury, and grandson of the earl of Bridgewater.
Sir Francis Head, bart. the son, succeeded his brother Richard in title and in this estate, and having new built the seat, resided here, as above mentioned.
The arms borne by the family of Head were, Argent, a chevron ermines, between three unicorns heads, couped sable. (fn. 21)
Sir Francis last mentioned, married Mary, daughter and sole heir of Sir William Boys, M.D. (by Anne his wife, daughter of Sir Paul Barrett, sergeant at law, who married the widow of Francis Head, esq. the eldest son of the first baronet) by whom he had three daughters and coheirs; Mary Wilhelmina, married in 1753, to the Hon. Harry Roper, eldest son of Henry lord Teynham, and died, s.p. in 1758; Anne Gabriel, married first to Moses Mendez, esq. by whom she had two sons, Francis and James, who both took the name of Head, and will be hereafter noticed; and a daughter, who became a nun prossessed in France; and secondly, in 1760, to the Hon. John Roper, next brother to Harry Roper above mentioned, by whom she had no issue, and died in 1771; and Eliza beth Campbell, married to the Rev. Dr. Lill, of Ireland, since deceased, by whom she had one son, Francis, and three daughters.
On the death of Sir Francis, this seat, with the manor of Higham, Ridgway, and other estates in this parish, devolved, by settlement, to his widow, lady Head, who died in 1792, and was buried in the same vault with her late husband; and this seat, and the manor and estates above mentioned, descended by settlement, one fourth part to the widow of Francis Head, seq. (daughter of Mr. Egerton) re-married to colonel Andrew Cowell, of the Guards, as guardian to her only daughter by Mr. Head; another fourth part to James Roper Head, esq. his younger brother, who married Miss Burgess, and now resides at the Hermitage; and the remaining half part, or moiety, to Elizabeth Campbell, the widow of Dr. Lill; in which divisions the property of these estates remain vested at this time.
SIR ANTHONY ST. LEGER, in the reign of king Edward VI. was possessed of an estate, called the BROOKES, being marsh lands, with other lands in Higham; all which, in the 4th year of that reign, he conveyed to the king. This estate afterwards came into the possession of the Stuarts, dukes of Richmond, from whom it is now come, in like manner as Cobham hall, to the Right Hon. John earl of Darnley, the present possessor of it.
Charities.
THIS PARISH of Higham has a right of nomination to one place in the New College of Cobham, for one poor person, inhabitant of this parish, to be chosen and presented so, and by such as the ordinances of the college have powder to present and elect for this parish; and if the parish of Halling make default in their turn, then the benefit of election devolves on this parish.
THOMAS SHAVE gave by will, in 1655, two dozen of bread to the poor of this parish, to be disposed of every Sunday; for which purpose he settled the Sun-house, with the yard, and three acres and three roods of land, now vested in the minister and churchwardens, feoffees in trust, and of the annual produce of 7l.
HIGHAM is within the ECCLESIASTICAL JURISDICTION of the diocese and deanry of Rochester. The church is dedicated to St. Mary, and consists of two isles and two chancels, with a slat tower, having two bells.
Among other monuments and memorials in it are the following: In the chancel, a stone with a bend voided between six escallops for William Inglett, B.D. vicar of this parish, ob. Jan. 4, 1659; another, with a chevron between three leaves slipped, for Mr. Richard Pearson, forty-four years vicar here, obt. Ap. 14, 1710; under an arch, in the south wall, an altar monument for Anne, wife of Samuel Cordwell, and daughter of Richard Machan, esq. obt. 1642. In the north chancel, by the north wall, on an altar monument, a brass plate, having three cups covered, impaling on a chevron three birds heads erased, for Elizabeth Boteler, obt. 1615, wife of Wm. Boteler, esq. of Rochester, daughter of Sir William Crayford, leaving two sons and two daughters, Henry, Thomas, Anne, and Elizabeth; another like for Robert Hylton, late yeoman of the Guards to king Henry VIII. obt. 1529. A memorial for Elizabeth, wife of Robert Parker, of Shinglewell, who left two sons, Richard and Robert, ob. 1670. (fn. 22)
The church, with its appurtenances, once belonged to the Benedictine abbey of St. John, in Colchester, and was granted at the instance of queen Matilda, wife of king Stephen (that king and his son, earl Eustace, confirming it) by Hugh, abbot, and the convent of that abbey, to the convent of the nuns of Lillechirche, in exchange for land, of one hundred shillings value, at East Doniland, in Essex. (fn. 23) Not withstanding which great disputes afterwards arose between them concerning this church, which was settled by agreement in the beginning of Edward II.'s reign, when Walter, abbot of Colchester, and his convent, gave up to the nuns all their right and title to it. In consideration of which they granted to the abbot and convent certain land in Lillecherche, belonging to this church, of the yearly value of thirty shillings; and if the land, called Blunteshale, should be made over to them by the nuns, on the same terms as the above land was granted to them, then they agreed to restore the lands of thirty shillings value to the nuns, and to receive the lands of Blunteshale in exchange for it of them, which was then confirmed by Gilbert, bishop of London, and S . . . . . . . . . abbot of St. Alban's, and the abbot of Colchester above mentioned and his convent, having, for the purpose of this exchange, resigned this church into the hands of Walter, bishop of Rochester, and quitted all kind of claim to it, he granted and gave the same in alms to Mary, daughter of king Stephen, and her nuns at Lillechurch, with all its appurtenances, in as ample and full a manner as any of their predecessors ever possessed it; and at the same time, with the consent and good will of Amselice, then prioress here, endowed the vicarage of this church as follows: viz. that the chaplain ministering in it should have all obventions of the altar, exceptiog twenty-four candles, which the nuns should receive on the day of the purification of the Blessed Virgin, of the better ones made on that day; and all legacies, made as well to himself as to the church, except it was a horse, ox, or cow, which the prioress and nuns should take; and that he should have all small tithes arising from the parish, excepting those from the demesnes of the nuns, and from the food of their cattle, and except the tithe of wool arising from the parish; and that he should have yearly six seams of corn from the nuns, viz. two of wheat, two of barley, and two of oats; of which, two should be paid to him at the feast of St. Michael, two at the Nativity, and two at the feast of Easter, and forage and herbage for one horse; and that he should sustain the burthen of clerks necessary to administer in the church, of whom one should daily be present at the greater mass before the said nuns; that the prioress should pay the synodals, and sustain the other episcopal burthens, saving, nevertheless, in all matters episcopal, the right to the bishop; all which was confirmed by him.
The prioress and convent, in the reign of king Edward III. having begun the repair of this church, pope Alexander IV. in his 4th year, anno 1357, granted an indulgence of forty days remission of penance to all who should contribute to it, by his bull for that purpose, which was to continue in force for five years.
This church remained with the nunnery till the dissolution of it, about the year 1521, when it was, with the other possessions of it, surrendered into the hands of king Henry VIII. three years after which, the priory and church, together with all the rents and revenues belonging to them, were granted by the king, with the pope's consent, to the master and sellows of St. John's college, in Cambridge; the church, with its appurtenances, to be held by them in like manner as it was held before by the prioress and convent, and paying yearly to the bishop of Rochester, and his successors, 13s. 4d. as an annual pension; and to the archdeacon and his successors, 7s. 6d. yearly for ever, as had been accoustomed; and on the vacancy of the see of Rochester, to the archbishop and his successors, four shillings for procurations, &c. and also out of the revenues of the priory twelve pence yearly on Michaelmas day, in the priory, to the poor people dwelling and being there for ever. The instrument of the commissary of the bishop of Rochester, for the above union and appropriation of the priory and church of Higham, to the master and fellows of St. John's college, Cambridge, (fn. 24) is dated in 1523; and with them the inheritance of the appropriation and advowson of the vicarage of the church of Higham continues at this time.
The yearly rent paid by the lessee of this parsonage to the master and fellows of St. John's, is 5l. 6s. 8d. in money, six quarters of wheat, three quarters of malt, and six couple of capons.
About the time of the restoration of king Charles II. colonel Goodyer was lessee of it, and he sold his interest in it to one Page, who alienated it to Richard Pearson, A. M. vicar of this parish, who possessed the lease of it for forty years, and died in 1710, and de vised his term in it to his nephew, John Pearson, who by his will devised it to his executors, Richard Pearson and John Till, of Essex, who, in 1738, for one thousand pounds, sold it to Mr. Tho. Harris, gent. of Sutton-at-Home. He died possessed of it in 1769, and by his will devised his interest in the term of this parsonage to Stephen Dilly, yeoman, whose widow is the present lessee of it.
The vicarage of Higham is valued in the king's books at 8l. 10s. and the yearly tenths at 17s. In the year 1650, this vicarage was valued at 60l. per annum. (fn. 25) The vicar receives all tithes arising within this parish, excepting corn.
THERE ARE certain lands in Higham, in Okeleyfarm, of which the impropriator of the parsonage takes but half the tithes (the other half being part of the portion of tithes belonging to the dean and chapter of Rochester, of which a further account will be given) These lands are now called dominical lands, and are thus described:
The orchard, below the house, five acres; Barnfield, eight acres; Downefield, elevan acres; Cookfield, eighteen acres; in the whole, forty-two acres. The impropriator takes the whole tithes of all the rest of Okeley-farm, as well as of the rest of the parish, excepting one field, called the Homestal, which belongs to the vicar, and is compounded for at three pounds and some shillings yearly.
The portion of tithes above mentioned was part of the antient possessions of the priory of Rochester. William de Cloeville gave for ever two parts of his tithe of Acle, now Okeley, to the monks of St. Andrew's, Rochester, in consideration of their having made his son a monk there; which gift he made with the consent of Gosfrid Talbot, chief lord of the see. (fn. 26) Gundulph, bishop of Rochester, who was consecrated in 1077, confirmed this donation, as did several of the succeeding bishops of Rochester, and others. (fn. 27) On the dissolution of the priory of Rochester, in the reign of king Henry VIII. this portion of tithes was, together with the rest of the possessions of that monastery, surrendered into the king's hands in the 32d year of his reign; who presently after, in his 33d year, settled it, by his dotation charter, on his new founded dean and chapter of Rochester, part of whose inheritance it continues at this time.
¶It appears by the survey of this portion of tithes, called Odeley portion, taken by order of the state in 1650; on the dissolution of deans and chapters, &c. that the same was then valued at ten pounds per ann. improved rent, and was let, anno 6 queen Elizabeth, by the dean and chapter, to John Sedley, esq. for ninety nine years, at the yearly rent of 13s. 4d. (fn. 28) Peter Burrell, esq. of Beckenham, died possessed of the lease of these tithes this year, 1775, and his descendant, the Right Hon. lord Gwydir, is the present lessee of them.
He is shot today after being so upset yesterday over the terrible thunderstorm we had. He was sick during the night and threw up in the bed, the poor darling. Of course Mommy had to clean everything up so he could settle back down and try to get some sleep.
The First Picture was taken and posted in November 2015.
The Picture to the Right is the same Tree Now. August 2025.
I'd Say it Grew up Pretty Well! no Longer Naked Nor Afraid!.
Madagascar and Africa’s Mysterious Kalanoros.
The plaque underneath reads..... I am a Kalanoro. We are small people living in the forests of eastern Madagascar. We're not bad guys, we eat the fruits that the forest gives us, but our flat crayfish are preferred. Unfortunately sometimes we catch our fingers under stones, we are then visible. Be not afraid yentils and deliver us, then we will have the privilege to fulfill one of your wishes. But shhh! Do not tell a person that one is meeting! See you soon at the edge of the stream. .........
The world is rife with legends and alleged sightings of hairy ape-men.
Not to be left out of the worldwide menagerie of hairy wild men, the island of Madagascar that lies off the southeastern tip of the African continent has the mysterious Kalanoro.
The indigenous peoples of Madagascar are a mixture of over a dozen tribes with overlapping cultures and a bubbling brew of spicy histories. Many are superstitious and still practice customs that raise the eyebrows of Westerners not steeped in the ancient lore of this African nation.
Among the diverse peoples of Madagascar, none pays as much obeisance to a rich panoply of gods and spirits as the Betsimisaraka (translation: “the numberless inseparables)” who live along the east coast of the island. To the Betsimisaraka, mermaids, spirits, signs and omens, and little men with long hair that dwell in the wild forests and steal food from villagers at night, are a daily part of their life.
The Kalanoro are diminutive folk said to be no more than two feet high. It is claimed these little men can be found throughout Madagascar. Other tribes in other areas of the island agree the Kalanoro exist but they call them by different names such as Kotoky or Vazimba. The Antakarana and Tsimihety peoples claim the Kalanoro in their region mostly dwell in caverns.
According to the people of Madagascar the Kalanoro have been on Madagascar for more than two thousand years. When people migrated to the island the first encounters occurred.
Yet encounters with Kalanoro are rare. They tend to hide deep in Madagascar’s verdant rain forests. Witnesses who have happened upon these little men agree that the Kalanoro have very long fingernails and a reddish cast to their furtive eyes. Many claim that the Kalanoro have feet that are reversed. If you wish to track one of those little men, they assert, you must remember to follow their tracks backwards. Successful trackers have testified they have followed footprints to areas with evidence of Kalanoro meals. The remains of meals are sometimes found by forest trees or among rocks along riverbanks. Raw seafood, vegetables and grain are said to make up the diet of the elusive Kalanoro.
Eyewitnesses do exist. According to Travel Africa Magazine, “Eloi saw his first Kalanoro in a rice paddy behind his village and describes it as ‘a little man, less than a meter tall, with hair all over his body and long fingernails.’ They can apparently be lured by the irresistible smell of frying pistachio nuts, but attempts to catch them are usually unsuccessful because their feet point backwards and hunters invariably track them in the wrong direction. In 1889, however, a capture was reported to the Royal Geographical Society and, in 1924, Chase Salmon Osborn described a Kalanoro sighting that he assumed ‘must have been a honeymoon couple’ because they were making love by a campfire. Despite their human traits and telepathic abilities, Kalanoro are considered animals.
The tale of the British Royal Geographical Society capturing a Kalanoro in 1889 is ubiquitous throughout the island. A check of the Society’s archives, however, reveals no such specimen was ever seen let alone caught.
Most of the Kalanoro are said to have great magical powers. Like Sampson, the Kalanoro’s long hair endows them with almost supernatural strength. Supposedly their powers are transferable for some “mosies” (herbalists) in Madagascar claim that potions of magical powders impregnated with ground Kalanoro hair provides the user with great mystical powers.
Madagascar mosies also act as mediums. Many work with the spirits of the Kalanoro whom they claim have great healing powers. The Kalanoro are thought to be spirits of nature. Those who seek the Kalanoro mediums do so because they think they have become cursed by inadvertently trespassing into a region that is sacred to the Kalanoro.
In a 1964 article, the author Bacil Kirtley asserted that the Kalanoro were dwarfish creatures. He compared them to the European legends of elves and trolls that stole food, replaced human children with their own children and generally caused mischief and mayhem. The natives of Madagascar roundly reject that description. [2]
Run ins with the Kalanoro, although rare, seem to come in waves. This passage recounts some contemporary encounters: “How recent are the encounters with these hairy, three-toed Kalanoro with their hooked fingers and aggressive habits? Professor Joe Hobbs of the University of Missouri-Columbia’s Department of Geography, studied them, while he was with the local tribes in the Ankarana Special Reserve, Madagascar, during the late 1990s. On May 15, 2000, when Hobbs wrote his report, he talked of how the people of the village of Ambalakedi consider Andoboara Cave “sacred because on three separate occasions, most recently just two years ago, grief-stricken parents whose children had wandered into the forest had recovered them alive here” after food was left out for the Kalanoro in exchange for their children’s return. [3]
Like the island of Papua New Guinea, Madagascar's mysterious and bizarre wildlife is a veritable feast for researchers and cryptozoologists. The island teams with creatures ranging from giant hissing cockroaches to screaming lizards. Thousands of other creatures are thought to be uncategorized. Among these are man-eating plants and antelopes, the Bibyolona ( a kind of miniature Centaur), and of course the Kalanoro.
Whether the Kalanoro are truly an offshoot of Man yet to be confirmed or simply an island myth built over several millennia, the fact remains that it is curious that so many diverse cultures spread across so many different lands all have legends of little people.
Photo: Copyright notice © All rights reserved.
from ift.tt/20G5fnX
If you considering seven years a long time, then I’ve been using Twitter for a long time. Even if you don’t, that’s longer than most people have been on the site. It’s probably longer than the user @AdmForrestal has been using it, but he’s brought the weirdness in a major way. I would applaud his weirdness or laugh at it if it wasn’t so ridiculous and, to some degree, frightening. This racist human being1 has decided that I defend the opinions that I have so vehemently because I’m working for someone. That’s right. I have a particular opinion because I’m a shill for some company or government agency. Yes, just what any contrarian would do with their life: conform to a particular idea to make money. Because contrarians are all about the Benjamins and not about the whole thinking-for-themselves thing. Uh-huh.
But really this guy claimed I’m a shill.
@janersm You clearly have been told to ind this post on the internet and make shit up who do you work for?
— JamesForrestal (@AdmForrestal) November 9, 2015
And why did he do this?
Because he’s nuts. No, I shouldn’t say that, especially since I would chide anyone else who promoted stigma when they were encountering someone who behaved in a difficult manner. His reason was that he believed that I lied about my experiences in hospital emergency rooms. He said that patients don’t get visitors until they’ve been stabilized. That’s not always true. One of my examples of that not being true was back in July of 2012 when a mound of fire ants decided to make me their bitch. I was at the park with my mom and my dad waiting between doctor appointments. We sat under a shady tree because it was hot as hell outside and we happened to sit next to a fire ant mound. We didn’t know that my predisposed-to-atopy2 body had decided that fire ants were just so out of style and that it wanted nothing more to do with them, so it just had to respond with anaphylaxis. Clearly, no other reaction would have been appropriate for that situation.
My parents, as witnesses to my fall and the first people that I mentioned the ant bites to,3 were essential to my care that day and to keeping me alive. They were the ones who told the doctors about my medical history. And they were the ones who eventually told the doctors about the ant bites. Before that happened, they thought that my fall and my two fainting spells were a result of the heat4.
But the fainting, the hospital visit, and everything associated with that day was all clearly a part of a conspiracy to upset @AdmForrestal.
When I mentioned before I “fainted” that we were hanging out at the Park, I was clearly just setting up this ruse.
Dad decided we could spend some time under a tree at the park; so did the birds t.co/ujNyLHij
— Janet Morris (@janersm) July 24, 2012
The geese in the picture included with that tweet were clearly provided by PETA and were part of a liberal media conspiracy to upset this one random Twitter user over three years later.
The original caption for that faked picture was “More lazy geese”, which, again, was all part of my clearly faked fall. No one in their right mind would ever insult geese by calling them lazy.5
My first tweet from the ER? Clearly, it was also a big old hoax.
I know absolutely nothing about having anaphylaxis.
Took 7 or so sticks to get IV started. Pulse being monitored. It was 139 at the park.
— Janet Morris (@janersm) July 24, 2012
Obviously, I’ve never ever talked about being a hard stick over the last almost 15 years of having this website. And I’ve never mentioned that I have tachycardia. Those were all totally new occurrences and haven’t happened since. Except on that one day. That’s how you can totally tell that I’m a shill. Because that isn’t an ongoing issue for me.
@janersm Idiot, the shock of hives and vomiting is not life threatening after stabilization them bringing them into a room after that haps
— JamesForrestal (@AdmForrestal) November 9, 2015
If I did know anything about anaphylaxis, I would have vomited instead of just fainting, having my heart rate go up, developing hives, and being extremely dizzy. And my life wouldn’t have been in danger even when my parents were in the room with me.
And when I mentioned that I hadn’t been tweeting during the rest of my visit? Clearly, that was me covering my ass. I must have needed some time to come up with the whole story.
I wanted to update when I got discharged but my phone was completely dead, so it's been charging for a few hours.
— Janet Morris (@janersm) July 25, 2012
When I talked that night about how hard my father took the trip, I was obviously continuing the hoax. When he had to be hospitalized the next day for stress that included that ER visit, I was also continuing the ruse on this poor Twitter user that I wouldn’t talk to for another three years.
Other than that, I'm itchy, sore, have a headache, and have been trying to reassure my dad that it isn't his fault this happened.
— Janet Morris (@janersm) July 25, 2012
When I talked about the people who helped me after I fainted, I must have been making that up, too.
Oh, and when I fell the principals of Ed White & Hampton Cove did the first aid while Dad called 911. They also helped keep me from
— Janet Morris (@janersm) July 25, 2012
getting up. I was stubborn enough that I kept thinking I was okay to get up. The four of them managed to keep me still.
— Janet Morris (@janersm) July 25, 2012
I mentioned two random schools in Huntsville in my shout-out for shits and giggles. I even lied about how disoriented I was after the falls, which was why I kept getting up. I thought I would be okay if I could just get to the car. I didn’t realize that I was going to fall if I moved or that my heart was going nuts or that my body was not operating properly because it was overreacting6 to the ant bites.
There I go, sounding like this all really happened again. Sorry.
Uh-oh, another picture that I must have faked. It had the caption, “the left knee…can’t see where the foot is discolored on the picture” because I needed to emphasize that I had actual injuries from a hoax of a fall. That’s also why I still have horrible scarring on both of my knees–the right one is worse than the left and the new scarring covering a gash from where I fell under a merry-go-round at a different park in the city and had my knee sliced open. Oops. That was probably made up, too. Because I don’t ever scar. Ever. That’s a special perk of being a shill.
Here‘s another faked picture of the damage of my “allergy” with the also faked caption of “my right knee…aka the gross one”:
When I mentioned that the paramedic used faceplanted, I was clearly lying.
There was a funny moment right as I got to the ER where the paramedic was describing what happened & said I faceplanted. #funmedicalterms
— Janet Morris (@janersm) July 25, 2012
I definitely never provided picture evidence of a head injury.
And when I documented my mom and I trying to get me in to see a doctor the next day?7 Lies.
We couldn't wait 5 minutes so I could call the family doctor on Nana's phone. Instead, I was told to use the cell…in the middle of nowhere
— Janet Morris (@janersm) July 25, 2012
Three dropped calls later, still no appt. I'd call on my phone, but I can't afford to pay for actual calls.
— Janet Morris (@janersm) July 25, 2012
Mom was able to call once and get an appointment for me. (I gave up after the 3 dropped ones.) Today at 1:45.
— Janet Morris (@janersm) July 25, 2012
They tried to get her to make it for 10:45. That's 15 minutes into my 30 minute infusion. I don't think that would have worked.
— Janet Morris (@janersm) July 25, 2012
I probably lied about having anemia, too. You know, just to upset some random right-wing guy on the internet. And since I had shingles diagnosed at one of my infusions in 2013 for the anemia, then I obviously never had shingles, which is why I don’t really have that gnarly scar that has shown up in pictures of me since then.
I have to take Doxycycline in case an infection starts developing. And I have to watch for blood clots.
— Janet Morris (@janersm) July 25, 2012
Blood clots were definitely not a worry for me, since I obviously didn’t hit my head on the concrete. No pictures of my head injury have ever been shared, even earlier in this post. And why would I need Doxycycline? Fire ants never present with pustules.8 I probably made up my multiple antibiotic allergies just to upset this one dude.
Officially, my foot pain and yesterday's falling/fainting was due to an allergy to fire ants.
— Janet Morris (@janersm) July 25, 2012
And, of course, THAT NEVER HAPPENED. It was just a well-timed tweet by my obviously devious mind.
And tweets since then that have mentioned my allergy to ants and newly-established fear of them? All lies to upset this guy who I never talked to until just a few hours ago.
I'm surprised I don't have nightmares involving ants now. Of course, the thought of watching "Honey, I Shrunk the Kids" terrifies me.
— Janet Morris (@janersm) August 6, 2012
Every time I itch (anywhere), I start to panic about ants.
— Janet Morris (@janersm) August 7, 2012
I want to go get my frozen mac & cheese out of the big freezer, but I'm afraid to go past the ants.
— Janet Morris (@janersm) August 19, 2012
Dear ants, If you don't move yourselves away from me, I will squish you until you pop. Kthxbai.
— Janet Morris (@janersm) September 6, 2012
Okay, I'm allergic to ants and caffeine, which is funny because ants are also intolerant of caffeine. Okay, maybe not funny, but weird.
— Janet Morris (@janersm) November 12, 2014
@SoulThatMatters And fire ants.
— Janet Morris (@janersm) November 27, 2014
#Instagram :: Always good to have around, especially when you're allergic to ants and ha… t.co/BQMcBSWDt2 pic.twitter.com/0bDwYMCqIv
— Janet Morris (@janersm) December 25, 2014
In that one, I obviously wasted money on generic Benadryl because I was faking new ant bites.
Unlike #VeronicaMars, I'm never up for being strapped down to an ant hill, especially if they're fire ants. #allergy
— Janet Morris (@janersm) July 7, 2015
I may never watch Ant-Man because I'm allergic to ants. I get creeped out by the promos.
— Janet Morris (@janersm) October 14, 2015
It was all fake. My allergy. My health issues. All of it.
Today’s blog entry is brought to you by the concept of….
Sarcasm.
Obviously.
This guy also thinks that he can explain away mental illness as being a problem with the soul and evil910 and all kinds of stigmatized bullshit that even most outright religious weirdos have disavowed. Quite frankly, I should be embarrassed at how much time I spent playing with this particular trolling ignoramus, but I did have a little fun, plus I got to write a very sarcastic blog entry, which is always a special treat.
Uh-huh. Do you feel this anxious or paranoid normally? t.co/8j2B3SAi4h
— Janet Morris (@janersm) November 9, 2015
So, @AdmForrestal, I understand that your conspiracies are a result of a need for safety & for human companionship and that they give your explanations for things you don’t understand, but they’re actually making you more upset. Anxiety drives some people to develop or accept conspiracy theories, but the ones you have are unhealthy for you and those around you, so you need to step away from them and into reality.11
Welcome to reality, dude.
This is where the fun12 is at.
Oh, and lose the racism & Holocaust denying. That much hate really doesn’t look good on anyone.
I’m assuming ↩
Allergies. ↩
I didn’t mention them before because I thought they were unimportant. ↩
It was 93.9°F that day and very humid. ↩
The shirt my dad is wearing in that picture is the same shirt he wore today, which is technically yesterday now. ↩
That’s what an allergy is. ↩
Something that the doctors in the ER said I needed to do. ↩
They’re typically sterile, but they had to make sure that I didn’t develop some horrible skin infection that killed me. ↩
@janersm NO they had something wrong with their souls and minds because of evil, and having their world shattered
— JamesForrestal (@AdmForrestal) November 9, 2015
↩
@janersm The brain does not control the mind, btw all the things listed down their are made up by Big Pharma, to poison people
— JamesForrestal (@AdmForrestal) November 9, 2015
↩
And that’s a reality where patients are often accompanied by their families or their friends while in the ER and before they are fully stabilized. ↩
By fun, I mean sarcasm, because it’s so awesome. ↩
Related Posts:
Inside the Dottie Matrix July 7, 2015
A Year In Review: 2012 December 31, 2012
Spitting Pain August 20, 2013
You Have But-Face March 10, 2014
24 Hours of GoFundMe September 2, 2015
If you are a bird then no matter where you are,how far you are or even how fast you are....then this man WILL get you
After a long day of me driving, my dad rests in a cheap hotel in Fillmore, Utah
In grade school I was horrified to learn that my dad was the same age as my classmates’ grandfathers. I began to obsess about about his imminent death. Grandfathers die, ergo, he would die, probably soon. I started coming home from school, expecting to find the worst. I stood motionless in doorways, monitoring his ribcage when he was sleeping. It was easy to imagine that he was’t breathing. Sometimes I would sneak in to the room to get a better look and examine his face, the deep wrinkles on his cheeks, the slightly angled incisors, visible confirmation I was his daughter.
When I moved out of my childhood home to my own life, every call that went to a voicemail-that-was-not-set-up-yet, inspired an image of him lifeless, ashen, splayed in awkward position on his kitchen floor. More than once I have braced myself, “Ok, this is finally really happening,” and called the police in his small town to go check if he was still alive.
There is a photo of him and me from 1972 laying on a bed covered in a mustard colored bedspread with pompom fringe. I was a few months old. Laying on my side, his head is next to me in profile gazing in to my eyes and the look between us is pure love. It’s a pity the undeveloped synapses didn’t leave me with the memory of that time, it is buried under complicated geological epochs. The years that followed were hard, a few sweet memories might have been a salve for teenage angst. There was chasm of nearly half a century between us. I struggled to win his approval but couldn’t bend myself to his elusive ideal of an obedient preacher’s daughter in the 1930’s.
In the decades that followed, there have been countless arguments and reconciliations. But, the nebulous biological tether that connected us was more forgiving than we were. One Christmas I gave my dad a photo of myself with President Clinton. I knew was not a fan, but I figured when your kid gets to meet a president, that’s a good thing. He was apoplectic and kicked my husband and I out of his house on Christmas eve. We didn’t speak for a year. One day he called me out of the blue as if nothing had happened. It was implied that if I went along with it, we could act as if nothing ever happened. I was so relieved and emotional, my chin trembled but I managed to keep my voice mostly steady. I got my dad back, and the price was pretending he hadn’t been a jerk.
Thankfully, decades of worrying have been for nothing. Today, my dad is 91 and fueled by a rage that cannot be extinguished; rage at his atrophying body, at Obama, but including all democrats, at the cost of living, at his ex-wife my mother, at me for my liberal views. Rage and isolation have made him strong. He lives alone with one eye and a twice healed shattered pelvis that has rendered him the most stereotypical of shufflers.
In the winter, my dad lives on the third floor walk-up of modest condo in sunny Arizona. He believes the stairs keep him fit. He gets coffee every morning at an affluent grocery store in Scottsdale. He brings his own mug and gets a deep discount. He likes to sit and socialize with the other seniors taking advantage of the bargain. They camp out around terracotta tables with a mismatched mugs and talk about recent medical procedures, their families, and politics. Later in the afternoon he takes a nap, listens to Rush Limbaugh, then goes to the VFW for a beer. Dinner is a handful of raw almonds from Costco. I often encourage healthier eating and the reply is “I’ve eaten healthy my whole life, from now on I’m going to eat whatever I want.”
In the summer he lives in Ashton, Idaho, near his farms. He built his house himself with the help of my brother one summer in the 1990’s. Neither of them are expert craftsmen. Yellow mesh dry wall tape can be seen under badly applied plaster in the corners, the porch can only support the weight of one human or risk collapse, the hot water is where the cold water should be. All the furniture has been bought at the DI, which is a cute nickname for the Mormon thrift store in the neighboring town. Everything functions marginally, but nothing works perfectly, not unlike our relationship.
My dad was once a good driver. Family holidays of my childhood consisted mostly of driving hundreds of miles to stay at a destination one night before a the return journey home. In the last decade, however his skills have declined. The drivers of Arizona have been generous and explicit with their feedback. My dad is oblivious to crude gestures, and not worried about the anxiety his driving may cause others. A man who never tips more than a dollar, is not terribly concerned with what others may think of him. He once told me “ A tip is a gift and you never have to give a gift.”
This year he agreed to let me take him to Idaho. I called him the night before I flew in to confirm he’d pick me up. “Oh, are you coming tomorrow?” he joked. “Saturday is a big day. It’s steak night at the VFW.” He says “doubleya” just like George Bush.He was waiting for me in the exact right place at the exact right time. I saw his truck in the distance and walked towards it. My sleeping bag winter coat was rolled up and shoved in to my now bulky carry-on. It felt good to walk in the warm Phoenix air. As I got closer, I looked more carefully. Where was he? I could see the headrests outlined clearly on both sides of the car,It looked empty. After a few more steps his face began to appear through the dusty windshield. He was there, shrunken within the silhouette of where he used to be.
He got out beaming and shuffled around the hood to me. I hugged him hard to feel if he was any less solid than he was a few months ago. He felt the same. I lifted my suitcase in the back of the truck, which was full of stones and we drove off. Rocks tumbled and clattered around the back, at every turn, start and stop. “Did you see my rock collection?” he asked as an orchestra of pebbles ping-ponged over the truck bed.
Before I had a chance to reply, he started to pull out on to a five lane road in front of a stream of fast moving cars. “Dad! Wait! Don’t you see those cars?” I shouted, immediately reproaching myself to soften my tone. “We’re not in a hurry. Let’s wait until the coast is clear.” I tried out an angelic voice, twisting like a yoga pose to look out the back window. “Ok, after this guy, you can go now.” He lurched into the second and third lanes at about 20 miles an hour. A few moments later he tried to use the indicator, but missed and the windshield wipers began to squeak and jump across the dry glass. We both laughed.
We set off the next morning. He made it clear that he wanted to get to Idaho as fast as possible, no stopping for fun or sightseeing. The endless chime of his unfastened seatbelt accompanied us as we navigated from driveway to road to highway.
Google maps suggested the fastest way is to go north over the Grand Canyon. Incredulous, my dad insists the fastest way is through Las Vegas. “I hope you’re not planning to squander my inheritance in some casino” I say as part of an ongoing joke we have about how much he spends in casinos. He’ll often call me to report excitedly he won $50 or so, and then reveal he spent $100 to do it.
We headed west and passed through boring places with interesting names like “Surprise” or ‘Nothing.” Comfortable silence took over over but not before he tried to needle me a little about politics. He follows the Republican party like a sleepwalking lemming and gleefully mentions he supports outlawing abortion. I took the bait and told him, “As your daughter, you are telling me that you don’t support me or my choices, it’s insulting. Plus you are an atheist.” He replied “I’m a Christian atheist.” I couldn’t argue with that.
I sipped truck stop coffee out of a trough-sized reusable cup, ignored him, and watched the landscape transition from beige to red. Saguaro cacti gave us the finger for a couple hundred miles. My dad fell asleep to the drone of the wheels on the seams of the highway.
A few years ago I got my dad an iPad, hoping that we could share photos and that he could enjoy the splendors of the modern age. It didn’t really work. He has two bookmarks in his browser; one for a site that publishes the daily price for alfalfa, and the obituary page of the Rock Springs Rocket, the newspaper from his hometown.
When we got to Idaho we had dinner at the local diner use their wifi. “Dead, dead, dead” he said to himself as he drew a finger down the screen. “I’ve outlived just about everyone I know, and that in itself is an achievement.” I asked him if he’s afraid of dying. He looks at me like I just asked him to teach me to tie my shoes and answer’s “Not all all, why? Do you think I should be? I’m going to die Natalie, there is not doubt about that. When, where, how, I don’t know, maybe it will happen in 10 minutes. When you get to be 90 years old, you are kind of living are borrowed time, so I am just going to live my normal life.” He's been living on borrowed time my whole life, I think to myself.
"There's nothing to be afraid of . . . it's only me, Boris Karloff."
For those who are younger than I am, which is about ninety percent of the earth's population, this title is a direct quote from an old, old horror movie featuring Boris Karloff, a British actor who became typecast as, well, as a horrific actor. Not that his acting was horrible necessarily, but he starred in many, many low budget horror films as a mad scientist who lived in a decrepit old mansion [plagued by a never-ending thunder and lightning storm] with at least one or two scientific miscreants that he himself created who were locked in a basement jail cell.
Of course one of Boris Karloff's most famous roles was that of Dr. Victor Frankenstein, a scientist-doctor gone bonkers, who runs a number of secret experiments to create life in dead bodies. While in university Victor excelled in chemistry and other scientific subjects which, it is thought, whetted his ambition to create life.
One insight proposed is the good doctor, scarred by the death of his mother just before entering university, became driven to give life to the dead. To that end, Dr. Victor gathers sundry parts from dead humans and animals and begins his experiments.
To be honest, my interest in Frankenstein began with the opening credits scrolled over the scary, creepy scene of the old mansion in horrific black & white and ended 20 minutes into the film. Though I do admit that my interest in the good scientist gone rogue was rekindled when I discovered the documentary film that chronicled the search conducted by Abbott & Costello to find out the truth.
Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein and had it published in London in 1818 when she was only 21. She claimed that the inspiration and perhaps the greater body of the work came to her in dreams as she slept. No doubt Mary enjoyed her pizza as I do, loaded with garlic, anchovies and red pepper. For I, too, have had such horrible dreams after devouring one too many slices so prepared just before going to bed.
Alas, this house does not, nor did it ever, belong to Dr. Victor Frankenstein. It rests, hidden in the midst of overgrowth somewhere near Oxford NC.
NOTE: The last five words of the quote [It's only me, Boris Karloff.] were coined by Ted Brown, a radio personality on WNEW-AM in New York City.
Choose to accept all that comes your way and in it you will find great value. Resist the urge to impose your judgment on the people, places, things and events that surround you, and you'll connect with many more possibilities.
To make the very best of any situation, you must first acknowledge and accept the reality of what it is. That provides you with a valuable starting point from which you can move in any direction you choose. - R.M
I picked up this postcard at the Pasadena City College Swap Meet.
When I was younger, I remember seeing the Three Pigs all the time and I always enjoyed meeting them. Now, they are part of my character holy grail. Hopefully, one day, I'll meet them again.
The back of the cards says:
WHO'S AFRAID?
The Three Little Pigs...safe at last from the Big Bad Wolf, in Disneyland, "the happiest place on earth." Behind them stands Sleeping Beauty Castle, gateway to Fantasyland where "dreams come true."
Angoscia.
All’età di 21anni non sono ancora riuscita ad estinguere la mia paura col buio.
Appena lo vedo arrivare dalla finestra accendo subito la luce o in alternativa la tv, ora che siamo in inverno ancora peggio dato che comincia già verso le 17:00.
Ho così paura che nel buio ci sia qualcosa che voglia farmi del male o spaventarmi, non riesco ancora a tranquillizzarmi anzi; direi totalmente il contrario.
Ogni benedetta sera che devo anche semplicemente andare in bagno mi ritrovo a una corsa contro il tempo, accendo tutte le luci che mi portano ad esso e cerco di non guardare gli specchi che mi terrorizzano.
Casualmente le piastrelle sfumate del bagno assumono sempre volti strani, sfigurati o demoniaci.
Quand’ho finito arriva il peggio..
Chiudere dietro di me le luci e correre finchè non arrivo alla porta della camera da letto, serrarla col cuore che batte all’impazzata e sudori freddi.
Scriverlo a che serve?
Non mi aiuta, non mi consola, non mi rende tranquilla.
Forse sfogarmi un pò.
Ho provato mille volte ad autoconvincermi che è tutto frutto della mia personale suggestione e a ripetermi all’infinito:” Cri, che fai sei scema? Fai ridere, sei grande e ancora ti caghi sotto per il buio”.
Ma tanto sono pratiche tanto inutili quanto stupide a parer mio.
Quando poi sono in camera non è che mi senta ”al sicuro”, tengo comunque la tv accesa impostando il timer in modalità ”autospegnimento”.
(accendo “boing” giusto perchè non mi ritrovo come su “cielo” il programma sui fantasmi di colpo, almeno l’altro è più luminoso e colorato, anche se c’è da dire che non potrei più sopportare il cartone col bambino dal ciuffo ridicolo e biondo. nervi.)
Credo che questa sia una delle mie paure, mi correggo, fobie più grandi che conservo.
Don't be afraid of starting new chapters in your life.
Don't be afraid of being alone, you were born that way and, at the end, you will be alone too.
Enjoy being by yourself. Get to know your mind in such a way you like spend time exploring it.
Respect and take care of yourself. Travel, get out to know new people, make new friends, love and spend time with those around you, they will not be there forever.
There is no second chances, this is it. There is no God and there is no second lives.
Stop making excuses, otherwise you will regret every opportunity you have missed because of fear and insecurity.
Are you the one who has always fear, who is always afraid walking down the basement stairs, are you the victim or.....
... to be continued.
Rock Generations
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Ruxe Ruxe in Concert at Bobber Café in Bertamiráns
Ruxe Ruxe en concerto no Bobber Café en Bertamiráns.
Some Music?
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The Buddhist gesture abhaya mudra is a gesture of fearlessness or reassurance. I wasn't actually seeking to illustrate Buddhist symbols when I made this photo. I was really trying out two new 32" optical white umbrellas matched up with twin LumoPro LP 180 manual flashes. This was probably an appropriate subject, as I was needing some reassurance about weaning myself off E-TTL flash.