Royally Beloved in the Time of Scorpio

These last few Scorpio days of mid-November have often had significance for Britain's royals - not always positive siginificance either. Let us hope that the outcome of the most recent November date of royal significance will be a happy one: the engagement of Prince William and Kate Middleton was announced this week.

On this very day, 20 November, in 1947 the then Princess Elizabeth married Lieutenant Philip Mountbatten at Westminster Abbey. They first met when the Princess was just 13, and the story goes that it was "love at first sight". According to news gossip, through following decades, the marriage has not always been trouble-free, but it has lasted - probably more due to royal protocol and the Queen's determination than anything else, I'd guess.

On the same day, 20 November, in 1992 a fire broke out in Windsor Castle, one of the three principal official residences of the British monarch. The fire badly damaged the castle causing over £50 million worth of damage.






On 22 November, in 1914, the man who was to become what many people considered to be the love of Princess Margaret's life was born: Group Captain Peter Townsend. (Not to be confused with Pete Townsend of The Who!)

Townsend was equerry (personal attendant) to King George VI, father of Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret.

For astrology buffs there's Australian astrologer Douglas Parker's interpretation of the natal charts of Princess Margaret and Group Captain Townsend, with the charts available at a linked pdf file.

Princess Margaret's love affair with Townsend was superseded by other stories and scandals in later years, so may have been forgotten or perhaps never known by any stray younger readers. Here are the bare bones of it taken from a website HERE

Townsend was a war hero, sixteen years the Princess's senior and married, although he was soon to be divorced. In her grief over her father’s death, Margaret turned more and more to Townsend for consolation. He too had suffered a loss when the King died.


The relationship had apparently started long before the King’s death and would probably have stayed under the radar, if Princess Margaret hadn’t been caught out brushing a piece of fluff off Townsend’s lapel during the coronation.

Princess Margaret desperately wanted to marry Townsend, but there were several obstacles, the most pressing being that he was divorced. Despite the fact that he was the injured part, divorce in aristocratic and royal circles was still a big taboo in the fifties. As the Queen was the Defender of the Faith and the Head of the Church of England, having her sister marry a divorced man was unthinkable.


Margaret was told, erroneously it turns out, that not only would she have to renounce her place in the succession, but that she would be stripped of her royal title, her civil list allowance and forced to live abroad in exile for the rest of her life like her Uncle. In 2004, it was revealed that Margaret and the Queen were deliberately given misinformation by the government. While Margaret would undoubtedly have had to renounce her place in the succession, she could have kept her royal title and the money. The reason for the subterfuge was that even though the abdication was almost twenty years prior, the wounds were still open. As the Queen had just ascended the throne, it wouldn’t do for her younger sister to be seen marrying a divorcé, no matter how well-connected.



After a two year separation, Townsend had been posted abroad to Belgium as an air attaché and only sporadic meetings, Princess Margaret agreed to give up any thought of marrying him. Despite their love for each other, Margaret had no concept of what it would be like to be anything but a member of the Royal family. The idea of living in exile, on his salary, was too much to be borne. Margaret simply wasn’t the type to have to do her own washing up, and cooking. It was one thing to play at it, knowing that you could also call the servants if something went wrong, another to have that be your way of life.

On 6 May 1960 Margaret married photographer Antony Armstrong-Jones, later given the title Lord Snowdon. She reportedly accepted his proposal a day after learning from Peter Townsend that he intended to marry a young Belgian woman, Marie-Luce Jamagne, who was half his age and bore a striking resemblance to Margaret.

Princess Margaret and Lord Snowdon were divorced in 1978. Ironic? Prevented from marrying her first, and possibly best love because of his divorce. I wonder how the Princess's life would have unrolled had she been allowed to marry Group Captain Townsend?

Townsend died in 1995, Princess Margaret in 2002.

Arty Farty Friday ~ Keith Haring

I wasn't aware of the artwork of Keith Haring until I picked up a grime-covered framed print in a junk-cum-antique shop on our recent road trip (see last Sunday's post). I was intrigued by what I could see under the grime, showed the item to my husband who recognised the work at once as that of the late Keith Haring, artist and social activist.

Haring's style is the complete opposite of Richard Estes' photo realism featured in the last Arty Farty Friday post. Haring's signature style is cartoon or graffiti-like, sparse, simple, yet engaging. There's more to it than may appear at first glance too.
(From bio HERE)

Haring was diagnosed with AIDS in 1988. In 1989, he established the Keith Haring Foundation, its mandate being to provide funding and imagery to AIDS organizations and children’s programs, and to expand the audience for Haring’s work through exhibitions, publications and the licensing of his images. Haring enlisted his imagery during the last years of his life to speak about his own illness and generate activism and awareness about AIDS.

During a brief but intense career that spanned the 1980s, Haring’s work was featured in over 100 solo and group exhibitions. In 1986 alone, he was the subject of more than 40 newspaper and magazine articles. He was highly sought after to participate in collaborative projects, and worked with artists and performers as diverse as Madonna, Grace Jones, Bill T. Jones, William Burroughs, Timothy Leary, Jenny Holzer, Yoko Ono and Andy Warhol. By expressing universal concepts of birth, death, love, sex and war, using a primacy of line and directness of message, Haring was able to attract a wide audience and assure the accessibility and staying power of his imagery, which has become a universally recognized visual language of the 20th century.

From Art Encyclopedia

He graduated from Kutztown Area Senior High School in 1976 and spent some time travelling across America before studying at the Art Centre in Pittsburgh. In 1978 he moved to New York to attend the School of Visual Arts, where his original approach was soon apparent in graffiti-inspired symbols expanded into large-scale designs of generative energy. At the height of the Punk Rock movement in the late 1970s he participated in the lively New York club scene, working with such street artists as 'Samo' (Jean-Michel Basquiat, b 1960). In the summer of 1980 he took up drawing, inventing intricate cartoon-style murals of mutant figures locked in hyper-physical engagement. He was a meteoric star in American art during the 1980s, exhibiting and working on projects throughout the USA, Europe and Asia, and his work became a symbol of the tribal undercurrents that permeate metropolitan life. His accessible imagery stems as much from Islamic and Japanese art as the sign language of contemporary culture. In 1986 the artist opened his own retail outlet, The Pop Shop, in New York and was continuously engaged in projects of an extraordinarily diverse nature, from murals on the Berlin Wall to paintings on hot air balloons, motor cars and decorative accessories. A giant 'spectacolour' billboard broadcast his famous Radiant Child image in Times Square, first in 1982. He fell victim to the AIDS epidemic in 1988 and died at the age of 31.

From the Keith Haring website

His art is pop because the desire to communicate prompted him to paint with the same spirit as the portals of churches were painted in the past in order to convey a message to the illiterate. He developed a language of his own, made up of synthetic and archetypal signs, that is, signs that are common to all times, places, and cultures. Simple signs-genuine hieroglyphs that led him to transgress the idea that painting, to be modern, must necessarily free itself of narration. The immediacy of his line and the recognizability of his figures, along with this narrative character, have made his art popular, but have also led some of the critics to treat him with a degree of suspicion, although over time many have come to change their view. Another gross mistake has been to consider him a graffiti artist, something that Haring was not, never having been a street artist. Taking his art into the street was his way of reaching the largest possible number of people, but Haring saw himself in relation to the history of art and not to urban and suburban culture. He was a friend of Warhol, from whom he learned how to approach the public. They were united by something that went beyond the linguistic and formal aspect: the way in which they related to death. The best art always comes out of inner conflict. In Warhol and Haring's case, this conflict was between the joy of life and the anguish of death.

So, there I was in a cavernous and chaotic junk store with a grimy framed print of one of Keith Haring's paintings in my hands. I paid $15 for it, but once polished up we decided, after a bit of research, that it was a bargain, because even unframed posters of his work now cost much more than that. It carries the official seal of the Keith Haring Estate, so it's not a "knock-off", and from the decorative custom-made frame and mat we suspect it was originally purchased at either one of his exhibitions, or from his Pop Shop. I doubt it'd be on sale in some stores for less than $70. This is the original as documented at the KH website, followed by a photo of the framed print I bought which now hangs in our kitchen-cum diner. It's not a perfect shot because of reflections on the glass.






Now a brief look at Keith Haring's natal chart.
He was born on 4 May 1958 in Reading, Pennsylvania at 12.41 PM (Astrodatabank)



Sun in Taurus, sign ruled by Venus planet of the arts, is no surprise. Uranus is squaring Sun from Leo, challenging Taurus's more traditional leanings with a strong dose of the avant garde, which comes over very clearly from Haring's artwork.
His 29 degree Scorpio Moon is challenged squarely by darkly powerful Pluto (ruler of Scorpio) and in a scratchy qunincunx (150* angle) to Venus in Pisces. these uncomfortable aspects reflect, I suspect, some inner (Moon) discomfort with the world at large, which comes out, for all to see, in some of his work.

On the day he died, of complications arising from AIDS, Pluto (planet of death and transformation) at 17 Scorpio was opposing his natal Sun (self), and had been exactly opposite a few months earlier as the disease was taking its deathly hold.


Some examples of his work:










TREE OF LIFE









SILENCE & DEATH

Astro-frustration

When I wrote the post quoted below, in November 2006, I'd been astro-blogging for only a couple of months, still trying to find an existing framework for my own views on astrology. During the intervening years I've come to the conclusion that there isn't one. My particular view of astrology doesn't fit exactly with that of anybody else. I feel as outside of the mainstream in astrology as I do in regard to USA politics.

I'm still convinced that "something" about astrology is right, but not nearly as much as some other astrology fans and astrologers in general seem to believe.

What has kept me interested for more years than I care to count is that I can see, and sense, that "something is happening". What is "causing" it to happen? What is it that we can see sometimes -though not always? If we could pinpoint the source, the root, the reason, the "cause" of the patterns we see arising, then that would represent a massive step forward for science, philosophy, and our general understanding of the nature of existence.

It's not going to happen though.

The frustration I felt in 2006 still bugs me. Here's what I wrote then:

I feel an astrological grumble coming on !
I really should stop reading astrology in books, articles, and on the internet. I can't. Perhaps I'm addicted. A lot of the time I just know I'm going to feel frustrated and annoyed about what I read, but I continue to do it. Maybe I'm searching for THE book or THE article which will make me feel "Yes! This is it!" I'm like the gambler who carries on betting, against the odds, because "THIS time it'll be different".

Astrology has been mashed, chipped, fried, baked, boiled, broiled, shedded, overdone, underdone, tossed, sweetened, stirred and shaken. I suppose it's understandable, there's a lot to work with. What I don't understand is why, after every method imaginable has been tried, there is no consensus among professional astrologers about anything at all.

If all, some, or any of those methods are valid, why isn't there agreement and acceptance by all? Why has astrology split into separate camps - Tropical, Sidereal, Traditional, Modern, Uranian, Cosmobiology, Harmonics to mention a few? Even within each camp there is no full consensus as far as I can see. Astrology has followed the pattern of politics, and organised religion - not good!

I have probably already discarded more astrological doctrine than is good for me in order to satisfy my own personal view. There's plenty left, but among all the options still out there, I cannot find someone or something which says exactly what I want to hear. Am I wrong? I suppose I must be wrong.

I sometimes wish I could ignore astrology, but I can't, it carries on chattering to me from the corners of my mind.

So on we go.....

Health, the Zodiac Signs & Scorpio

While I don't fully disagree that the way the planets were configured at the time of a person's birth can have a bearing on the general health of that person, I'm wary of placing too much reliance on that traditional theory. There are so many other life factors to take into consideration: heredity, environment, family circumstance and ethnicity for starters. Still, if astrology provides even a single strand of input, it's worth bearing in mind.

Last week, in a junk shop, I picked up the only astrology book I found on our Texas trip. It's a 1961 paperback by Janet Harris: Astrology for Everyday Living. Fairly run-of-the-mill stuff, I'd say - written by Sun sign with chapters on various life topics: personality, health, partner, children, career, home, leisure.....you know the drill! One chapter title irked me a bit, but the book was written in 1961: How to help your husband succeed. Just another of little wifey's duties? Sadly, and predictably even for a non-astrologer, there was no matching chapter on "how to help your wife to succeed".

Getting back to the health issue then, and, as the Sun is still in Scorpio, let's see what Ms Harris had to say about health issues for Sun Scorpio people - also applicable to other "Scorpio-types" I guess. Perhaps I'll fish out more in this vein for other signs as they come around.

In regard to your health, as well as to every other aspect of your life, you believe that you are "master of my fate". (Note from your blogger: that sounds oddly put, to me. Editor asleep on the job? - I doubt any reader ever believed they were master of Ms Harris's fate, it'd be made clearer by omitting the quote marks and making it "your" fate.) Anyway..... Your long suit is willpower. You feel that you can control the state of your health, simply by willing it. You have no patience with any sort of ailment or infirmity. Like Theodore Roosevelt, a Scorpion, who turned the delicate health of his youth into a vigorous maturity, you believe in all forms of strenuous exercise. You have great powers of endurance, and can triumph over a physical condition that would lay low anyone else.

If you are typical of your sign, you are thick-set, strongly knit, and sturdy. The sign indicates large bones, a powerful jaw, and a determined mouth. The eyes tend to be piercing and cold, the eyebrows bushy. The women of this sign have a voluptuous beauty, and the men are very masculine in appearance.

It is fortunate that nature has endowed Scorpio natives with strong bodies, for these people frequently indulge in excesses that would ruin a less sturdy constitution. They tend toward overeating and drinking. Sex is ruled by Scorpio, and in this area, too, moderation and discretion must be used.

If you are a typical eighth-sign native, you tend to disregard the first warnings of illness. You do not trust doctors, and you detest bed-rest. It is a real effort for you to take any sort of curative measures, and as for periodic check-ups - the idea rarely occurs to you! If you are really sick, though, you are a good patient, for you have outstanding courage. When it comes to pain, you simply "grin and bear it".

By and large, you are strong enough to resist many of the ailments that plague your weaker brothers and sisters. If you are careful about watching for danger signals and obeying sensible rules of hygiene, you are among the longest-lived people in the Zodiac.

Hmmmm. Strange she didn't mention that in traditional astrology Scorpio rules the sex organs, though she did mention sex, in passing, and there's a veiled comment about being careful about hygiene. The author was probably wary of being overly explicit and continuing the thought that Scorpio-types can be extra likely to suffer from problems connected with the genitals - STD's and suchlike.

I'm not sure how much we can rely on those ancient zodiac sign/body part lists.



(Right: The signs of the Zodiac and the parts of the body they govern, from: Gregor Reisch. Margarita philosophica. Freiburg: Johann. Schott, 1503. Below, a 20th century version.)

I have Sun in Aquarius, ankles are supposed to be a weak spot for Aquarius people - and oddly enough I do have a problem there. It arises from an inherited tendency to poor circulation in lower legs. I happily avoided the varicose veins which seriously plagued my mother and her father, but have inherited a dicky valve in the left ankle. It was the indirect cause of a 2-year long ulcer on top of my left foot some 15 years ago. The original minor injury, a burn from a metal decoration on my sandals heated by the sun, wouldn't heal. The wound gradually enlarged and deepened into a nasty painful ulcer, which took 2 years and a lot of effort to heal. My father had Sun in Aquarius too, and he had varicose eczema on his lower legs for most of his life. So I will not rule out the possibility of zodiac sign/body part correlation. How or why this could possibly be so, even in SOME cases - I have no idea!

CHRIS HEDGES: One of America's Rare, True Leftists.

I'm interested to see the natal chart of Chris Hedges, journalist, author, war correspondent, and peace activist. His writing alternately inspires and troubles me. In some of his articles at Truthdig, he comes over as potentially aggressive, paranoid, pessimistic and doom-ridden. Although, I have to say, what he writes aligns very closely to how I'm beginning feel - most of the time - that there is no longer any "proper" leftist thinking left in USA politics.

It hasn't always been so, that much I've gleaned from reading (and posting) about such people as Emma Goldman, Howard Zinn, Eugene Debs, Abbie Hoffman, Mother Jones and others. Their views and ideals have been crushed gradually, but with determination, over several decades.

There's serious imbalance here. Any appearance of balance is cosmetic.
Both Democrats and Republicans, liberals and conservatives in positions of authority have been bought and paid for by the same masters. We can choose between Coke and Pepsi - minor differences in flavour and ingredients, but basically the same non-nourishing entity, and it's much the same in US politics.

Is there any solution? Are most Americans satisfied with what they have? Perhaps so, because I see little strong objection about it. But even though they seem complacent, or resigned, to what there is, they ought to be offered a clear choice, and there is no true choice available at present. Many seem not to realise this, or not to want to admit it to themselves. Perhaps the people haven't yet appreciated where our present political route could lead. Give 'em time! Two Fs to describe possible consequences: feudalism & fascism - a natty combination of these would mean that we and our descendants would be well and truly 'effed' for decades to come - maybe even centuries if Earth survives that long!

At the weekend I watched the following video interview with Chris Hedges about his new book The Death of the Liberal Class. If a passing reader can spare 20 minutes it's well worth the watching. Interestingly, here, he came over in person as a quiet, mild-mannered, compassionate and well-balanced individual - not at all as I had imagined he'd be from some of his writing. Perhaps I'd been doing what some people, when trying to be clever, like to call "projecting".

Chris Hedges is the son of a Presbyterian minister. In a quote from Robert Shetterly's lovely book Americans Who Tell the Truth Hedges said:

I have always sought to meet the moral and ethical standards my father set. He remains an invisible witness to every action I undertake. Seven years after he had died in 2002 I was called into the office of The New York Times. I had been speaking openly against the Iraq war and the paper issued me a written reprimand telling me that if I did not cease speaking out against the war I would be fired. It was not an easy moment. I had spent nearly fifteen years at the paper, including time as the paper’s Middle East Bureau Chief. I faced a choice. I could comply with the paper’s demand and pay fealty to my career, but to do so would mean betraying my Dad. This betrayal was something I could not do. As I left the building, knowing my time at the paper was finished, I realized that the greatest gift my father had given me was freedom

Hedges' biography is encapsulated at Truthdig - a clip:

He spent nearly two decades as a foreign correspondent in Central America, the Middle East, Africa and the Balkans. He has reported from more than 50 countries and has worked for The Christian Science Monitor, National Public Radio, The Dallas Morning News and The New York Times, for which he was a foreign correspondent for 15 years.

Hedges was part of the team of reporters at The New York Times awarded a Pulitzer Prize in 2002 for the paper’s coverage of global terrorism. He also received the Amnesty International Global Award for Human Rights Journalism in 2002. The Los Angeles Press Club honored Hedges’ original columns in Truthdig by naming the author the Online Journalist of the Year in 2009, and granted him the Best Online Column award in 2010 for his Truthdig essay "One Day We’ll All Be Terrorists".

He was born on 18 September 1956 in St. Johnsbury, Vermont. I wish a time of birth were available but I can find none, so a 12noon chart has to suffice. Moon degree and ascending degree and/or sign will not be accurate.




His natal chart describes the man in the video more clearly than how he comes over from his writing, in my opinion. I'd so like to know his rising sign - if anybody has a birth time for him, please do let me know!

Sun (self) and Jupiter (publishing, religion, excess) in Virgo, the critical and discerning sign (ruled by Mercury, the writers' planet); Mercury itself is in Libra, Airy, mentally oriented sign of balance and fair play. Even that much astrology does kind of describe him, already neatly packaged! But there's more, of which I'll add a couple of extra comments.

Moon would have been somewhere between 2 and 15 Pisces placing it likely to be conjunct Mars and in opposition to Sun and/or Jupiter. This is another version of the balancing act his Libra Mercury performs. Moon and Mars together in some signs, and opposing personal planets could mean trouble - but in Pisces, not so much. Pisces connects to spiritual and religious matters, it's a gentle but wise sign, last of the 12 with their gathered wisdom embedded. Mars here reflects an energetic determination to do what the native sees is right according to his inner wisdom - rather than harbouring aggressive tendencies.

I'd have expected that either Aquarius or its modern ruler Uranus would show up prominently in Chris Hedges' chart. Well, Uranus does.....it's conjunct Venus and sextile Mercury shedding its astrological rebellious, radical influence upon two of his important personal planets. Aquarius isn't emphasised except by the presence of Chiron, known as "the Wounded Healer", at 6.49 degrees Aquarius (just 3 minutes away from my natal Sun as it happens). I don't often take notice of Chiron, but here it could be of special significance, sitting as it does opposite Uranus/Venus in Leo performing yet another balancing act between the urge to be radical and rebellious and the urge to heal.

Music Monday ~ Kenny Rogers, My Gooey Buttercake.

We're recently back from sampling what Texas had to offer (see yesterday's post). Here's something, or rather someone, else from that state: sometimes referred to as a National Treasure or American Icon:
Texas-born Kenny Rogers. I've loved this singer for a long time and consider his songs as akin to gooey butter cake - something I really really love, but know I shouldn't eat too much of at one sitting, or very frequently, even though I could. I'm trying to train myself to achieve a little more....erm....I dunno... sophistication(?) in my musical taste. I swear, though, never to become as elitist as one very close to me, who shall remain nameless. To continue the food analogy: I'm weaning myself onto elegant, finely cooked and presented nourishing fare (for example, the work of Billy Strayhorn already appeals a lot). Still though - gotta have some gooey butter cake now and then, and it don't half taste good! I have Kenny's cd Love Songs playing as I type.

By the way, I shall not, apart from this sentence, be mentioning any work he has had done on his face - it's a boring, overworked topic as well as being potentially very mean spirited, and nobody else's business.


Kenny Rogers was born in Houston, Texas on 21 August 1938, one of eight children, in a working class family of which Kenny was the first to graduate from high school. He began singing in a doo-wop group as a teenager, joined the New Christy Minstrels in the 1960s, and later, along with others from that group formed The First Edition - and Ruby (she of the warning "don't take your love to town") was born. Kenny's name was added to the group's title: Kenny Rogers and the First Edition. They disbanded in the mid '70s. Kenny then had a string of country-sounding hits as a solo artist. He introduced us to Lucille, Lady, You Decorated My Life, Coward of the County,
and some duets with female stars: We've Got Tonight with Sheena Easton, Islands in the Stream with Dolly Parton, Don't Fall in Love with a Dreamer with Kim Carnes to name a few.

By late 1970s Kenny had sold over $100 million worth of records, but success wasn't to last. Rolling Stone's writers took a dislike to him and his successes with the Great Unwashed. He was unkindly referred to in that magazine as the "overweight lightweight". For a variety of reasons noticed of late, I'm beginning to dislike Rolling Stone and its writers.


Kenny's career hit the doldrums. Always up for a challenge it seems, he gave acting a go. A TV-movie The Gambler, based on his earlier hit song was one result, leading to four popular sequels. Several TV seasonal specials followed. There's been even more diversifying by this multi-talented guy. He has become a respected photographer and published several books on photography. He opened a rotisserie-chicken fast-food franchise, then went back to music making. In 1999 he produced an album She Rides Wild Horses which included a #1 single Buy Me a Rose. Nowadays, still diversifying, he's breeding Arabian horses and cattle on a 1,200-acre Georgia farm, with fifth wife Wanda Miller, they married in 1997.

Kenny Rogers has won just about every music award one could name over the span of his 50+ year career, along with awards for his charity work.



Let's take a peek at his natal chart. Astrodatabank gives his birth time as 11:29 AM.




With Moon at 5 degrees of its own sign, Cancer, he would prefer the moonlight (see LP title in photo above) wouldn't he? He's a sentimental soul, and we don't have far to seek to find evidence of it in his choice of songs. My own natal Cancer rising probably accounts for my fondness of this guy's work.

Sun and Mars in stage-struck Leo isn't a surpirse. He's hardly been out of the spotlight since teenage. He's a showman by nature, and if you've ever seen a show of his, live or on TV/DVD you won't need convincing of this. He comes over as a warm-hearted fun-loving guy as befits a true Leo-type.

Mercury and Neptune in Virgo add a discerning and Earthy touch to his outgoing nature. You won't find anything in bad taste, lewd or vulgar among the hundreds of songs he has sung over many decades. Natal Venus (planet of the arts) in its own sign Libra underlines a natural preference for beauty over "shock and awe" in his music.

I note that Jupiter was opposing his natal Leo Sun from Aquarius as he was born. I see this as providing a nice balance between showmanship, his necessarily huge ego, and a sincere concern for his fellow humans. After the 1981 death of his friend, singer/songwriter Harry Chapin, he assumed his position at the forefront of the movement to aid the hungry. "Access to proper food and nutrition," said Rogers, "is perhaps the most fundamental right of every human being." He has co-chaired a "Hands Across America" fund-raiser for America's hungry and has been instrumental in helping the hungry in his current home area, Georgia, establishing the Athens Area Homeless Shelter in 1990.


Here's a blast from the past: Kenny singing Ruby and a medley with The First Edition in 1970



and live in 1999 a good rendition of Ain't No Sunshine



Can't end without one of my many favourites: Lady

LOCAL COLOUR/COLOR (No astro today)

Back in the saddle again after a gentle motorized waltz around East Texas. We looked for whatever autumn/fall colour there was, nosed around a few Texas towns, and some antique and junk stores, of which the Lone Star State has many thousands.

Autumn colour is trickier to pin down than antique stores. So much depends on unpredictable variables of local climate, timing of cold snaps, how much moisture the summer months offered, etc. Texas isn't known for large expanses of fall colour, but there's opportunity for splashes of it, especially in the lusher eastern section of such a vast state. Texas is, actually, much like a country unto itself, and many of its natives tend to see it as such.

I picked Nacogdoches as being a likely farthest point we'd aim for. It's said to be the oldest town in Texas, sits on the site of a 10,000 year old settlement of the Nacogdoche tribe of Caddo Indians. The route we took is marked on the map below.




Autumn colour wasn't especially prominent on the route, but there were hints that it was about to burst forth during the next day or two in the densely wooded areas all around the East Texas countryside, and in the heavily wooded margins of some very pretty highways. This part of Texas is known for its pine woods, but scattered among them are trees which will "turn".

It was Sunday, so little was open en route by way of distraction. Himself (my husband) drove for 7 hours straight, with one pee stop. We arrived in Nacogdoches just as darkness fell and checked in for two nights at the first motel we encountered.

Exploring the well-preserved old downtown area next day, we had our attention drawn to one of the town's claims to fame, apart from its history(recorded around the town square via informative plaques), and its fine architecture largely designed by German architect and immigrant Diedrich Rulfs. That extra claim to fame involves The Marx Brothers who came to town in 1912 with their (then) singing act to perform at the old Opera House.
The story goes, according to The Marx Brothers Encyclopedia by Glenn Mitchell, that their performance was interrupted by a man who came inside shouting, “Runaway mule!” Most of the audience left the building, apparently thinking a runaway mule would provide better entertainment. When they filed back in, Julius (later known as Groucho) began insulting them, saying “Nacogdoches is full of roaches!” and “The jackass is the flower of Tex-ass!” Instead of becoming angry, audience members laughed. Soon afterward, Julius and his brothers decided to try their hand at comedy instead of singing, at which they had barely managed to scrape together a living. So, in Nacogdoches, Texas their singing act became what is now a legendary comedy act. A historic plaque commemorating the event is posted in the downtown area.

After a second night in Nacogdoches, where we'd enjoyed some perfect glisteningly sunny, but not too hot, weather we were in two minds whether to drive east into Louisiana. There was a very nice "feel" to Nacogdoches. The people we came across in stores and cafes were so sweet, even more friendly and kindly than Oklahomans and other Texans. I liked it a lot - my husband reminded me that we were close there to "the real south", where people truly do have lots of "southern charm". A short hop into Louisiana was a great temptation, but on balance we decided to keep that pleasure for another time.

We moseyed on down 20 miles south of Nacogdoches to take a quick look at Lufkin. Traffic congestion there soon had us heading back north. We got as far as Sulphur Springs, through the Davy Crockett National Forest. Leaf colour was still in early-turning stages there. Onward through small towns called Palestine and Athens (tiny burgs, nothing like their namesakes), to Sulphur Springs.

(Above: the pink granite and red sandstone Hopkins County Court House in Sulphur Springs)

I remember little about Sulphur Springs other than its ornate court house, nice town square, and.... the diner, aptly called The Pitt, where we ate breakfast on Wednesday morning (our car is under the sign). It must be one of the few eating places in the USA where smoking is still allowed. Normally we'd have hightailed it out as soon as the smell of smoke enraged our nostrils. Breakfast was hard to find in Sulphur Springs, however, and a bit of local colour adds to the fun. Our waitress, early 20s, 5 foot nothing and under 100 lbs of pure energy, after only two words from me, with rapid fire delivery demanded:

"Where's your accent from?"

"England"

"Ahhh! Do you know Jack Haley? He's from England - I used to work for him "

Somewhat taken aback, and probably still half-asleep I asked, "Who?" (As though I might possibly have known the guy!) Aware that Himself was trying unsuccessfully not to giggle, I managed to splutter, "No, sorry, don't know him", whilst trying not to rudely burst into laughter myself before she whizzed off on her way.

Next overnight stop: Greenville, with some very heavy Interstate traffic, but once in the quiet of "historic downtown" we found a few junk shops and antiques stores. One item I saw there has remained in memory: a framed photograph of the town square during some kind of festival, back in the 1950s, or perhaps early 1960s. A big black and white banner strung across the main street proclaimed "Greenville - The land is all black - The people are all white!" Himself glanced at it and sighed. "We've come a long way since then", he said and moved along. In stage whisper I responded, "Some of you have; others not far enough".

In the motel in Greenville I managed to somehow pull our laptop off a table. On its rapid downward trajectory a corner of it jabbed the un-shoed toes of my left foot, causing some fairly serious pain which was to dog me for the next couple of days. I confirm, though, that no serious harm was done to laptop or toes during the making of this trip.

Thursday, 11 November: Veteran's Day. We left Greenville folk busy adding rows of flags to an already plentiful supply around town. Headed north for a look at the dual city of Sherman-Denison, then decided to carry on westward to Gainesville, leaving our last homeward leg on Friday short enough to allow for some further antiquey stop-offs.

We booked in to a motel just as the sun had set, then went looking for food. It was almost dark. The good people of Gainsville were gathering for a fireworks display in the park, in honor of Veterans' day. (NOTE ~ Fireworks? Really?


In England 11 November is marked by 2 minutes of silence at 11 am, and sombrely dressed dignitaries laying poppy wreaths on Cenotaphs in cities throughout the land to honour the dead of two world wars. Fireworks? No way! They'd remind Brits too much of the real flashes, crashes and destruction of World War 2 with its deadly blitzes on British cities.)




Fireworks though? Very odd. Is it something to do with those lines in the US National anthem "And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof thro' the night that our flag was still there"?

Anyway - I digress.

Sections of Gainesville highways and Interstate access routes had been closed off due to the fireworks display, with traffic diverted. On the Interstate through town, always busy anyway, it became well nigh impossible to negotiate a route to reach the town's eateries. It took us more than an hour, and goodness knows how many miles of driving in ever decreasing circles, to reach an IHOP (International House of Pancakes) which lay a very short distance from the motel. Only the fireworks lighting the sky kept us semi-oriented on our laughable but frustrating hour long not-so-merry-go-round. If I never see Gainesville again it'll be soon enough!

Friday's last leg of the trip brought us home via Muenster, a Germanic little town, then tiny St. Jo, and Nocona, once famous for its boot factory. Autumn colour, all the way back from Nacogdoches northward had developed rather nicely in the few days since our journey south. The best of the colour, roadside, happened to be in places where we couldn't safely stop and take photographs, so the gorgeous golds, mustards, oranges and occasional reds we spotted will have to remain undocumented, but in memory.



We arrived home with a goodly pile of used VCR tapes, old photographs for the collection of Himself, some odds and ends for me, and from our last stop, at a Nocona antique/junk store, a well-framed print. This last item, found on the floor in a very grubby state, glass coated with thick dirt and what looked like dried beer splashes. What I could see underneath the dirt intrigued me. I showed it to Himself who said, "That looks like a......." (a name unknown to me). I bought it anyway, for $15. More on this item on Arty Farty Friday.....she wrote, trying one of those annoying cliff-hangery things.



Photos by Himself (apart from the Marx Bros - he's old - but not that old), poppies and firework from Google Image

Gary Morris ~ Les Miz ~ Leaf-peeping

Tonight we're going to the theater to see, and hear, Gary Morris. He's versatile - best known in some circles as a country music artist of the 1980s, and in others for his role as Jean Valjean in the Broadway production of Les Misérables. The full symphonic recording of Les Misérables is a platinum selling, Grammy Award-winning album and features Gary's now famous version of Bring Him Home. He has also appeared in a production of Puccini's opera La Boheme with another fellow Country/Pop singer Linda Ronstadt.

I wonder if he'll sing Bring Him Home tonight? Speaking of Les Miz, I mentioned it, along with some related astrology in an archived post. Here's an excerpt:

Victor Hugo's story of revolution and redemption in 19th century France is the core of the musical's success. His natal chart can be seen at Astrodatabank. He was born 26 February 1802. Sun, Mercury, Venus and Pluto all in Pisces, the Mutable Water sign, sign of the mystical, sensitive, compassionate dreamer.

The music for the stage show was written by Claude-Michel Schonberg (below, left) born 6 July 1944 in Vannes, France. He has Sun, Mercury, Venus & Saturn in sensitive, sentimental Cancer - Cardinal Water.

Author of the touching lyrics which bring Shonberg's beautiful music to life was Alain Boublil (below, right) born in Tunis, Tunisia, 5 March 1941. Sun, Mercury and Venus all in Pisces (similar to Victor Hugo's chart).



Lots of the astrological element of Water, Mutable and Cardinal, in those three charts! It's not at all surprising that the combination of story, music and lyrics, born of such an emotionally sensitive Watery genealogy, would have the power and the magic to open the flood-gates and touch millions of hearts. It happened!

Here's the most uplifting of all the great songs from Les Miz. Quite appropriate for our times too, as it happens. This encore is from the 10th aniversary show. (No Gary Morris in this one.)

Tomorrow we'll take off for a wee dander around somewhere or other, looking for any remaining fall colour and whatever else takes our fancy.

Consequence : BLOG ON HOLD..