Coronations Require Memorabilia - Right?

My King Charles III tea tin with tea arrived today from across the Pond.

A Coronation keepsake for this Anglophile.

I couldn't be happier about it.

God Save the King!

Long Live the King!

(Oh, just humor me . . .  ;)

Recaptured Memories

"It was marvelously quiet under a sky of burning blue. The air smelt of eucalyptus and tomatoes and heliotrope from the garden. I would get up early to work, and about noon walk out to a sand fringed cove named la Garoupe. There I would find the household sunbathing. Gerald would be sweeping the seaweed off the sand under his beach umbrellas. We would swim out through the calm crystal blue water, saltier than salt, to the mouth of the cove and back. Then Gerald would produce cold sherry and Sara would marshal recondite hors d'oevres for blotters. Saturated with salt and sun, some in cars and some walking, the company would troop back to the terrace, overlooking the flowers and vegetables back of the villa, for lunch.

     One of Sara's favorite dishes was poached eggs with Gold Bantam corn cut off the cob and sprinkled with paprika, homegrown tomatoes cooked in olive oil and garlic on the side. Sometimes to this day when I'm eating corn on the cob I recapture the flavor, and the blue flare of the Mediterranean noon, and the taste of vin de Cassis in the briny Mediterranean breeze."

If you are a regular reader of this humble blog then by now you know that John Dos Passos is one of my favorite writers. The above excerpt is from his book Best Times: An Informal Memoir. My soul is deeply touched by his description here, the heart of the man and his experiences laid across the years like masterstrokes of paint on a canvas, massaging my mind. I am moved. Moved.

"Sometimes to this day when I'm eating corn on the cob I recapture the flavor, and the blue flare of the Mediterranean noon, and the taste of vin de Cassis in the briny Mediterranean breeze." 

The blue flare of the Mediterranean noon. Poetry. Transportational poetry. 

I've been to the blue Mediterranean, splashed in her cool waters, bare feet supported by squishy tan sand. A dream come true that did not disappoint. I thought of Dos, and Sara, and Gerald and their friends Hemingway, Picasso, MacLeash, Fitzgerald, Porter, Cummings, the list goes on and on. Gertrude Stein called them the Lost Generation. For the ten years they played in Antibes they were really quite found. In addition to the sun, sand, and sea, they had each other and unconditional, deep, joyous friendship.

We've all had those corn-on-the-cob moments of vivid remembrance when an experience vibrantly. jumps to the forefront of our thoughts, our emotions riding them as if they were happening right then. Sometimes joy, sometimes sadness, sometimes melancholy, often longing. Longing to return to that hour, that day, not forever, just for a visit to say hello, to hug, to taste, feel, hear, see, smell the memory back to life.

Those longings can lead to new adventures. Often they lead to an ache, a deep tear-inducing ache which is the impetus to go again, to set your foot back on the path of the new and unknown, to catch-up with old friends and make some new ones, or to create something - anything - that will add to your collection of enriching memories tucked away and waiting. 

You never know when something will trigger a memory. But something will. And you'll recapture the sensations all over again, splendidly.

The Not So Lost Generation in Antibes, early 20th century

Here I am west of Antibes in the French Mediterranean. Bliss!

Bocce

Bocce, a ball sport belonging to the boules family, is a calm but strategic game with an ancient lineage. Probably dating back to ancient Egypt its popularity emerged with the Romans and Emperor Augustus.

Developed into its present form in Italy, bocce is closely related to the British bowls and French pétanque. It was first played as a modern sport in the 18th century in Italy. With the influx of Italian immigrants at the turn of the 20th century, bocce gained widespread popularity in the United States. 

Bocce is good clean fun and a relaxing way to spend time outside - or inside - with family and friends. It can be as competitive - or as chill - as you want. As with any game, it depends on the crowd.

I bought a hard ball set a few years ago for fun during a July 4th backyard gathering. It was a big hit and has been ever since. A set includes eight balls in two colors and a smaller ball called the pallino, which serves as the target. 

With a newly acquired indoor/outdoor soft ball set purchased at an LL Bean store in Wisconsin, I played bocce with my husband and kids last week while on vacation, a tournament my partner and I almost won, til we didn't.  

 The kids beat us, 2 games to 1. 

We'll get 'em next time!

Why is Zadok the Priest Played at British Coronations?

When England’s Queen Anne died without immediate heirs, the throne passed to her German cousin, the elector himself, who was crowned George I and was pleased to claim the attention of Handel.

George I’s son, George II, also preferred the work of his father’s longtime favorite, and he requested that Handel write music for his coronation.

Zadok the Priest is a British anthem that was composed by George Frideric Handel for the coronation of King George II in 1727. 

It will be used in King Charles' ceremony. (I'll post the lyrics below.)

Zadok was the priest who anointed Solomon, as described in 1 Kings 1. During the service, Charles will be anointed with holy Chrism oil, made using olives from the Mount of Olives and consecrated in Jerusalem.

The tradition dates back to the Old Testament of the Bible which describes the anointing of King Solomon by Zadok the Priest and Nathan the Prophet and has been maintained to emphasize the spiritual status of the monarch.

"This is often thought to be the most sacred part of the ceremony," Charles Farris, Public Historian At Historic Royal Palaces, said. "It's an ancient and very symbolic ceremony ... historically it was akin to the anointing of priests and bishops."

Zadok the Priest is sung in three languages: English, French and German.   

Do read 1 Kings 1. It tells the drama surrounding Solomon becoming King. An exciting and true event, it was not so simple as was Charles' ascension to the throne.

I'll be getting up in the middle of the night to watch the live stream of King Charles' coronation, which I have waited most of my life to experience. While I adored Queen Elizabeth, and am so sorry she has passed, this moment was inevitable. And I'm excited. I have followed Charles' life since I was a young girl, with great fascination. He is quite a character. I believe he will be an effective and loyal king.

Long Live the King!

The lyrics to the song are as follows:

Zadok the priest
And Nathan the prophet
Anointed Solomon king
And all the people
Rejoiced, rejoiced, rejoiced
And all the people
Rejoiced, rejoiced, rejoiced
Rejoiced, rejoiced, rejoiced
And all the people
Rejoiced, rejoiced, rejoiced and said

God save the king
Long live the king
God save the king
May the king live forever
Amen, amen, alleluia, alleluia, amen, amen
Amen, amen, alleluia, amen

God save the king
Long live the king
May the king live forever
Amen, amen, alleluia, alleluia, amen, amen
May the king live
May the king live
For ever, for ever, for ever,
Amen, amen, alleluia, alleluia, amen, amen
Alleluia, alleluia, amen, amen, amen
Amen, amen, alleluia, alleluia, alleluia, amen

Long live the king
God save the king
Long live the king
May the king live
May the king live
For ever, for ever, for ever,
Amen, amen, alleluia, alleluia, amen, amen
Alleluia, alleluia, amen, amen, amen
Amen, amen, alleluia, alleluia, alleluia, amen

Superimposition

In our butcher's shop yesterday a family - which included a mom, dad, and two little boys - stood ahead of me in line. Perusal of the meats, cheeses, and specialty foods held their attention.

As a mother and grandmother, my attention naturally gravitated to the little boys, one about three years older than the other, the same age difference as my now-adult sons. I'd say they were around four and seven years old. In whispers, the older boy enthusiastically informed his little brother about the display case contents, pointing out hot dogs and cheddar cheese, pickles, and whole chickens. 

Memories of my own boys at those ages flooded my thoughts. 

Transported back in time, I relived two little kids running errands with me during the day, so well-behaved, looking at the store's offerings with curiosity, the older educating and minding the younger, just as these two tykes in the butcher shop were doing. I found myself superimposing my sons onto these curious boys as I delighted in their carefree antics. 

As I waited my turn I revelled in cherished memories of our mommy-and-me adventures, so many, such fun, my sweet boys.

Then, I realized I had been looking at the family the whole time, mostly at the little boys. I was happy remembering those good days when my kids were little, the main focus of my life.

But I think my gaze made the mom uncomfortable. I feared she thought I was critiquing her family. Her husband was making a very large order, customers were lining up behind me in the small shop, and she and her boys were the center of attention because they were literally in the middle of the store, where they had to be. She glanced at me, gave a nervous smile, then made sure the kids stayed close to her and didn't bump into anyone. The boys were on their best behavior. 

I returned to the present and gave her my most assuring smile. I winked at the little boys, who shyly grinned back at me.  

"There are a lot of interesting things in this shop, aren't there?" I said to the boys. My words and demeanor put them all at ease. The mom returned my smile, relaxed. The boys nodded and said, "Yes!"

I offer this insight to young people. Sometimes, when older people are watching you, they are reliving decades of memories sparked by your young family, your young coupledom, or even your singleness. Our brains run memories we forget we have. This can be very sweet, or painful, or just surprising for us. Our faces may look stern as we concentrate on holding precious memories for as long as we can - or feeling strong emotions from them. We are deep in thought. 

It's good for us to remember, to relive sweet, happy times. It's a blessing. 

And the painful memories? They are important, too. They remind us that life can be hard, but we are still alive, and hopefully these memories give us hope as we see how far we have come. 

So, though our faces may not be smiling, it doesn't necessarily mean we are irritated. It can very well, and perhaps most often, mean we have traveled back in time for a moment to a wonderful place where joy happened, and you or your kids provided the portal. 

We are most grateful.

Thank you for understanding. 

And may you find as much pleasure one day in future superimpositions of the memories you are creating right now.