On Servitude

Like much of America, I have been completely entertained recently by this show:

 

 

Brian and I both love this soap opera (because that's essentially what it is!) set in the years before and during World War One.

But when I'm not watching Downton Abbey in the evening, I've been devouring this book:

 

East of Eden may well be placed in my Top Ten list when I am done with it. I have taken to reading it with a pen in hand, underlining as I go. Few writers can turn a phrase as beautifully as can Steinbeck, and few writers have such insight into the human condition.

So when I came across this little speech by one of the servants in the book, I immediately thought of Downton Abbey:

"I don't know where being a servant came into disrepute. It is the refuge of the philosopher, the food of the lazy, and, properly carried out, it is a position of power, even of love. I can't understand why more intelligent people don't take it as a career--learn to do it well and reap its benefits. A good servant has absolute security, not because of his master's kindness, but because of habit and indolence. It's a hard thing for a man to change spices or lay out his own socks. He'll keep a bad servant rather than change. But a good servant…can completely control his master, tell him what to think, how to act, whom to marry, when to divorce, reduce him to terror as a discipline, or distribute happiness to him, and finally be mentioned in his will. If I had wished, I could have robbed, stripped, and beaten anyone I've worked for and come away with thanks. Finally, in my circumstances I am unprotected. My master will defend me, protect me. You have to work and worry. I work less and worry less. And I am a good servant. A bad one does no work and does no worrying, and he still is fed, clothed, and protected…."

--John Steinbeck, East of Eden, Chapter 15, Section 2

New Years' Weekend

We went to St. Louis for a mini family vacation over New Years' weekend.

We visited the Gateway Arch--the tallest monument in the country.

We took a quick run through the museum in the Visitor's Center before it closed for the day.

Even though we had tickets for our ride to the top of the Arch, we had to wait…and wait…for our turn. Our time at the top was brief in comparison, but oh, what a view!

Emma was nervous at the top. OK, so was I. It was a windy evening, and the Arch didn't exactly stay still.

A view from the top.

A poorly lit picture of all of us.

We went to the Old Spaghetti Factory for dinner--a family favorite--and the kids had fun swimming in the hotel pool that evening. The next morning, we went to the Magic House--a wonderful children's museum in the St. Louis area.

The crew loved climbing around in Jack's Beanstalk.

Nathan liked the "bubble room."

The boys spent a lot of time repairing their car.

Emma and Clara, however, were done with the children's museum after an hour or two, so the girls and I headed back downtown to see more of the Arch's museum.

I loved loved so many of the quotes posted throughout the exhibit.

Emma and Clara by a statue of Meriweather Lewis, right before we left.

Christmas Morning

Isaac and Nathan got Hex Bug spiders from my parents. They loved these.

Brian worked all of Christmas weekend and had had an extremely busy week leading up to it. He went in to work on Christmas morning at 4 a.m. so that he could be home in time for gift-opening. He was pretty wiped out.

Brian's amazing older sister knitted hats or scarves for all of us. The kids have been wearing them nonstop. She also made some gorgeous dress ups for the girls.

 

The Hex Bugs, from my parents, were a particular hit this year.

 

 

 

The Not-Immortal Van

I thought it was immortal.

Our trusted family van, I mean.

With its high mileage and a few creaks and squeaks, we knew it wouldn't be long before we were in the market for a replacement.

What we didn't expect was that the van would die before we said dying was allowed.

There we were, cruising along the highway at 60 mph, on the Saturday before Christmas. We were halfway through an hour drive to a large Christmas event. The "check engine" light came on. I double-checked the manual and didn't see any reason for immediate concern.

Ten minutes later, the van just…died. It suddenly stopped accelerating, going uphill on the major highway. Moments later, we were on the side of the road. Brian turned the engine off, restarted it, put the gear into "drive"--and we rolled backwards.

"Out of the car!" I screeched. And on the side of the road, for an hour, in the brisk December weather, we waited. Waited for the tow truck. Waited for rescue. Waited, and wondered, about the fate of the van.

Fortunately, we had gloves, coats, scarves, hats, and lots of snacks for our wait, because we had anticipated a long evening of outdoor Christmas celebrations. Isaac snarfed an entire bag of Cadbury chocolates in about five minutes flat.

Eventually, our rescuer (one of Brian's colleagues) and a tow truck arrived. As we sat in our rescuer's car and watched the van get loaded onto the tow truck, I confronted the sad truth:

Our trusted van was not immortal after all.

It had given such faithful service for so long, and we had tried to take good care of it. I had assumed it would exit when we said it was time, and none before. I was wrong. Lesson learned.

As the tow truck pulled away from the curb, I told the kids that we had probably just taken our last ride in the van.

A few days later, a phone call from the auto shop confirmed our suspicions: "Massive internal mechanical failure of the transmission." Cost to replace? Almost $4,000. Value of the van? Waaayyy less than that. We sold the van to a salvage yard, and a mere three days before Christmas, we secured a replacement vehicle.

It was a stressful thing to deal with the week before Christmas, but in retrospect, the timing was remarkable. That trusted vehicle saw us through so many years of schooling, plus a tiny bit more. It didn't leave us a year ago--which would have been devastating financially--and it didn't hold on for dear life for months and months to come, as we agonized over what to do about a replacement. And it died at a time of year when buyers can find great deals on vehicles.

People talk about the watchful hand of God, the tender mercies from heaven that we experience. The death of our not-immortal van was one of those experiences, and I will remember it for a long time to come.

Christmas Eve

The kids slept by the kid tree.

Christmas Eve Nativity

On Christmas Eve, we got together with a couple of families for yummy food, music, and a Nativity recreation.

The mother in one of the families is quite an artist, and several years ago she created and painted a backdrop for this annual event. She also sewed some great costumes and adds to her collection every year.

Clara and Nathan were angels, Emma and Isaac were shepherds, and Madeline was Mary.

The angel tells Mary that she will bear the Messiah.

Mary reacts to the news.

Mary brings forth her firstborn son.

Mary is tormented by an angel and his foot.

Mary reacts to the angel's foot.

Mary takes her role very, very seriously. (Madeline was absolutely precious during this activity.)

The angels visit the shepherds, abiding in the fields.

The shepherds hear the news. One picks his nose.

Mary and Joseph rest in the stable.

The actors at the completion.