Let's Write "Ring out the old and ring in the new, ring in the true"

In Memoriam, [Ring out, wild bells]

A New Year clarion call from: 
Alfred Lord Tennyson - 1809-1892

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,

The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind
For those that here we see no more;
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be

Chrismas Miracles in history - George Washington's Crossing

This Christmas American history continues to amaze me.

Personally, I hold the belief that on December 25, 1776, George Washington

was inspired by Divine Providence.

A Let's Write sesonal history - Published in the book Christmas Miracles: True Stories to Warm Your Heart

Christmas Crossing - After a string of defeats, General George Washington secured a seemingly miraculous victory that raised American spirits.

Starving, cold and thoroughtly miserable, George Washington's soldiers weren't feeling too confident of a Patriot victory in the winter of 1776. The Revolutionaries had suffered a number of crushing losses in the previous months, and camping out in below-freezing weather wasn't helping.  

Frunstrated with his lack of progress, Washington realized he would have to be bold if he wanted to give his men a much-needed win in the final days of 1776, or their quest for freedom might be stamped out by the British.  In a letter to governor Trumbull, Washington said that a "lucky blow" against the British forces would "most certainly rouse the spirits of the people, which are quite sunk by our misfortunes. 

That opportunity came on the waning hours of Christmas Day.  Washington believed the Hessians, Hesse-Kassel troops hired by British soldiers would be recovering from celebrating the holidy at their camp in Trenton, New Jersey. That would be the perfect time to strike.

Three hours behind schedule, around 11 p.m. on Christmas night, the bedraggled Patrioiots began launching their boats across the Delaware River at three separate points. As if on cue, a major storm, a fierce mix of sleet and wind, roared to life. Washington had to make a quick decision- turn back and risk being attacked by the British in the morning after the river had frozen over or press on despite the life-threatening conditions.

"...As I was certain there was no making a retreat without being discovered, and harassed on repassing the River, I determined to push on at all Events", George Washington later told John Hancock.  

Only the 2,400 soldiers in Washington's group managed to make it across the river, the other two groups had to hang back and try crossing in the subsequent days.  It took approximately four hours to cross the Delaware River and the following walk to Trentn took much longer than expected. 

In his journals, excerpted in American History by David McCullough, Continental Army soldier John Greenwood wrote about the march toward Trenton from the Delaware River. Washington's force halted many times over the course of the march due to the intense wind and cold.  "I recollect very well that at one time, when we halted on the road, I sat down on the stump of a tree and was so be-numbed with cold that I wanted to go to sleep. Had I been passed unnoticed I shoul have frozen to death without knowing it."

The storm was tough to weather, however it untimately becaue a Christmas blessing for Washington and his me.  The storm covered up the noise the soldiers made as they crossed the river, which ensured they had the element of surprise.  At 8 a.m., on December 26, 1776, while the Hessians were still groggy with sleep, Washington attacked with his troops, coming awary with a mora-boosting victory and taking 1,000 Hessians prisoner. Best of all, th elosses on Washington's side were next to nil. Four Americans perished in battle in addition to two who died of bitter cold.

Hailed as one of the Revolution's finest generals, Washington inspired great loyalty in his men, earned through bold tactical decisions, like the Christmas crossing. 

Only Washington co

uld see the bright side of this winter storm, and as word of his victory spread across the colonies,  it raised morale among those who were starting to believe the Patriots couldn't possibly beat the British Empire.  

This small miracle changed the tide in favor of the scrappy Revolutionaries, who were now motivated to finish and win- the fight for their freedom. 

Washington Crossing the Delaware is an 1851 oil-on-canvas painting by the German-American artist Emanuel Leutze. It commemorates General George Washington during his famous crossing of the Delaware River with the Continental Army on the night of December 25–26, 1776, during the American Revolutionary War.

Maine Writer Let's Write post script - A gift from George Washington was his account about this history changing decision given in first person accounts in writing, oral history and in art.  

Peace experience by a World War II Japanese soldier

This report was published in The Rotarian Magazine, by Seiji Imaizumi, a member of the Rotary Club of Kawagoe, Japan.

Although this is a World War II history narrative, the subtitle could be, "The lasting impact of kindness." I am including in the "Let's Write" blog because The Rotarian Magazine transcended cultural biases about the Japanese in World War II, to report about how kindness (Shinsetsu) can change people.  

親切

Shinsetsu

I'm accustomed to reading about World War II survival histories from European survivors. Therefore, I was impressed to realize how this particular Japanese soldier's survival story was about the kindness he received from strangers who protected him from certain death by the British army in Burma (Myanmar). Certainly, there must be other stories like this one, so I admire the Rotarian Magazine, because the subject is about the generational power of kindness.

MY SHOES were so worn that I had to tie a rope around them to hold them together.  Sometimes, I had to eat small animals, even grass. But, I kept walking hoping to reach somewhere safe.  I spend every day thinking I was probably going to die. Come tomorrow, I would say to  myself, I won't be in this world.
Most of my unit died during the Battle in Imphal, India*, which took place near the border with Burma (no Myanmar), in 1944.  British soldiers surrounded them and killed or captured nearly everyone. I was not among them, because I had been ordered to investigate how we could cross a nearby river. If the circumstances had been different, I would have died too. 

In fact, the British army was searching for any remaining Japanese soldiers, so I retreated into the Burmese mountains to hide.  This was near the end of World War II, and Japan was losing steam, so our food and ammunition hadn't been replenished in a long time. I had nothing left. I walked about 15 miles a day over very difficult terrain.

Finally, I found a house. It was one room. If you opened the door, you could see the entire house.  But, the family took me in. They gave me food.  When British soldiers came, they told me to hide under the bed.  Once the British moved on, they told me I could come out.

I stayed in hiding until the war ended. I kept moving and everywhere I went, families took me in.  I didn't worry that someone would tell the British. I later heard many stories about how local people were hiding other Japanese soldiers.  No matter where I went, I heard this kind of story. They were very kind to us.

I returned to Japan in 1946, and had to start over.  For years, I struggled to farm on land that no one wanted to cultivate.  Everyone was poor.  It was a difficult time. But, I knew from experience that if I wanted to live, I would find a way. I had the strength and will to survive. I also started thinking about how I would repay the kindness of the Burmese people.

I began dairy farming and my life stabilized so I started the Imaizumi Memorial Burmese Scholarship Foundation.  The scholarship is for students from Myanmar who study in Japan.  In 1989, we awarded our first scholarships. Today, about 200 young people have received the scholarship.

I've mentored many of the students who've studied here in Japan, and my goal is for them to have the skills they need to bring prosperity to their country.  Investing in the next generation was the best way I could think of to repay the strangers who took me in. And, for my my comrades to rest in peace.  I hope this generation brings peace and proserity to Myanmar.  

As told to Vanessa Glavinskas and Reiko Tokiyama

Rotary - Promoting peace is one of Rotary's six areas of focus.  Learn about the different ways you can work for peace at rotary.org/our-causes.  

*Battle of Imphal took place in the region around the city of Imphal, the capital of the state of Manipur in northeast India from March until July 1944. Japanese armies attempted to destroy the Allied forces at Imphal and invade India, but were driven back into Burma with heavy losses.

My friend's Christmas letter- subtitled by me: "A boomer in transition"

Every Christmas newsletter is interesting to me, because the authors write about the best of their experiences, which are appreciated. Nevertheless, one particular newsletter received from Norm, a Dundalk High School friend, captured my attention this year, because the narrative describes the situaton of being a baby boomer in transition. We read about how Norm and his wife were searching for how they would fit into a new community, in spite of the unexpected transitional challenges they faced while trying to accomplish their goal.  I titled this Let's Write Christmas essay as "A Boomer in Transition". 

I'm reasonably certain that my friend Norm did not mean for his Christmas letter to be an existential metaphor about baby boomers. Yet, for the purposes of this blog, in my opinion, he wrote in a personal way about how life's inevitable transitions can be confronted with optimism, regardless of the salient challenges we must eventually resolve, as time marches on.

Norm introduces the letter with a short preamble. "Once again the Christmas Season 2019, has again caught up and almost passed me.  I have lots of excuses but don't have time to list them all. Wishing you and yours the Merriest of Christmases and the Happiest of New Years from Norm and Uni."

This seasonal clip art addition to Norm's letter is meaningftul, because one of the ornaments depicts an owl, our Dundalk High School mascot.

Dear Friends,
Wishing all a MERRY CHRISTMAS and HAPPY NEW YEAR!! You can see by the above address that we no longer live in Georgia and moved last April to Florida. 

It’s funny the way things happen. 

We had a lovely home in Georgia and some nice friends but missed being closer to family and considered moving back north to Virginia. We visited homes in the Fredericksburg area but after due consideration (too much crazy traffic) decided to remain in Georgia. Our closest friends in Georgia returned from a trip to Texas visiting family and told us they had decided to move closer to family there. At that point we decided we wanted to live closer to the ocean and started looking for homes in Florida. We visited Fernandina Beach, FL in northeast FL and really liked it. Found some lovely homes but there was always something that kept us from making an offer. We then decided to get our home in GA ready for sale. It wasn’t too hard since we maintained it well, but we did do some major changes, like hardwood floors on two carpeted rooms downstairs and putting in French doors to another downstairs room so there were 2 master suites on the first floor.

By this time, we had also found a home in Fernandina Beach that we knew would need some work, since it was built in 2007. Our offer was taken, and we were off to the selling and buying races. The day our home in GA went on the market, a full price offer was made and accepted, but something was not right. The wife loved the house, but the husband kept visiting the home looking to nitpick small things on a home that was 11 years old. A set of French doors leading from the second master suite to the deck needed replacing, which we did but in the process the installers broke the door handles. I won’t bore you with the trials and tribulations over that or other incidents, but the buyers canceled the contract the day before settlement, no matter we sold it a few weeks later. 

Unfortunately, the real problem in this move, I caused. 

While doing most of our packing I went to the attic over the garage, which was mostly covered with flooring except in a small area. There were some boxes that I wanted to use laying on sheetrock and as I bent over to pick them up my foot slipped off a beam and through the ceiling I came. Luckily, I was able to grab a beam instead of dropping 15ft down to the concrete garage. I crashed onto the floor and crushed my right heel, worst bones in the foot to break. Had I not grabbed a beam only God knows what would have happened. I became an invalid and Uni had to do everything herself. She was not happy with me and I don’t blame her. We moved in but shortly thereafter Uni visited her ailing mother in Korea. I’m still recovering but limping less each day. Since we moved in, we painted the house, redid the kitchen, landscaped, painted the garage inside, and many other necessary projects. Our home is on a cul de sac and fortunately for us we have great neighbors. 

A new home was being built on lot next to ours, so that was fun. If we ever move again, it will be to a condo or assisted living. So now you know what happened to Norm and Uni. 

Hopefully, by next Christmas, everything will be completely settled. Uni decorated the house for Christmas as I am of little real help. Everything looks great. The kitchen remodel was only to take a few days but took 2 weeks. That meant 2 weeks without a kitchen sink, fun fun, fun. 

But I digress, BEST WISHES FOR A HAPPY AND JOYFUL CHRISTMAS SEASON AND MAY THE NEW YEAR BRING YOU HEALTH AND HAPPINESS!!

Norm and Uni

Maine Writer "Let's Write" post script- Get Well Norm!

A first person history about the Portland Symphony's "The Magic of Christmas", 40th anniversary, in Portland Maine

Thanks to Portland Maine, Rotarian Russ Burleigh for presenting each of us who attended the concert on December 13, 2019, with a news letter copy about how he was involved in bringing “The Magic of Christmas”, to the Merrill Auditorium, in Portland Maine. 

This is a first person Rotarian history report!

My first year as the General Manager of the Portland Symphony Orchestra was 1969-1970. My conductor was Paul Vermel, who has retired and lives in Scarborough. Paul and I wokred concerts, some of which included “Nutcracker” and “Amahl and the Night Visitors”, which had two of the three Wise Men who had performed on the NBC-TV show and which we did a second show at the Brunswick Naval Air facility.

When Paul left for the position at the University of Illinois in Urbana, our new conductor was Bruce Hangen. Bruce’s wife was a pianist and she helped develop a chorus for the 1976, and 1977 Christmas programs. Around that time, the Boston Pops used to refer to their holiday program as “Christmas Pops” and Bruce decided to borrow that title. For 1978m we did “Nutcracker” with three performances by the Hartford Ballet (there was no ballet company in Portland until 1981 or so!). In 1979, we did three performances of the “Messiah”. 

In the spring and summer of 1980, we developed the 80-81 season, and our program committee decided that it was time to bring back “Christmas Pops”. We settled dates with City Hall Auditorium (Merrill Auditorium wasn’t renovated until the 1990s) and looked forward to a wonderful holidya season.

In October, we got word that the Boston Pops was going to play a “Christmas Pops” concert in December, at the Cumberland County Civic Center. They wanted to tour New England to introduce their new conductor John Williams (Arthur Fielder had died a year or so earlier). We were alarmed about going up against the Boston Pops. Our auditorium dates were a week later, but we thought we would take a chance and book two concerts.

Then, another orchestra popped up. A group was putting together something called the “New England Pops” and the conductor was to be Erich Kunzel, someone who used to conduct th eBoston Pops. We were surrounded! 

The Portland Symphony Orchestra (PSO) Marketing Committee formed a meeting of about eight people. The meeting started at 9:00 AM. I got read to come to the meeting, but I had my shower and started thinking about what might happen!

When the meeting started, there were all kinds of ideas - some thinking we should bring back the Messiah, or Nutcracker or even Amahl. But, having any of these plans would take on some large changes in personnel, orchestra, singers, etc., and we only had eight weeks to change everyting! And, then, I started spelling out what come to me in my shower.

I said, “We need a new name. We can call it ‘The Magic of Christmas’. We can have our Municipal Organist Doug Rafter, play a half hour solo concert prior to the opening. the other orchestra won’t have an organist. Sme thing about our 100 voice chorus - they won’t have one of those, either. We should have a well-known star to read a Christmas poem while members of the Boy Singers of Maine sat in front of that star and listened. We can put up some beautiful decorations that we’ve hung over the state in previous years. As for the “star”, I had an idea. I heard that the owner of the Whistling Oyster in Oqunquit had a children’s story time with a friend of his - it was Margaret Hamilton, the “Wicked Witch”, who was in the Wizard of Oz. She had other friends in Maine so I called her after my meeting and she ws delighted to come.

“Maggie” was the perfect guest star for our first “Magic”. She was delightful and a post card she later wrote was warm and thankful. We put on three concerts, all sold out. In 1981, we hired David Ogden Stiers of TV’s “MASH”. I wanted to do four concerts but the PSO president hesitated, then had me ask the four vice-residents, all of whom said “yes”. We sold out all four shows. Later stars were Edward Herrmann of the TV’s History Channel and movies, Bob Elliott of Bob and Ray fame, baritone Ron Raines (whose wife became the Stage Director of Port Opera), and a couple of singers who brought their Santa-clthed schnauzer on stage each time they sang. By this time, 1986, had us performing six shows.

But, as lucky as I got in starting ideas for “The Magie”, I was also very lucky to have worked with excellent conductors, orchestra members, administrative saff and board members. Everone worked hard and looked forward to doing what was necesary to make the shows!

Post Script to this history - Russ Burleigh was at the piano when yours truly (Maine Writer- Rotarian Julie) auditioned to sing in The Magic of Christmas chorus! During the two seasons I performed with the orchestra, were some of the most enjoyable Holidays I have ever enjoyed, because all of my family came to several of the performances. Thank you Russ! Merry Christmas to all who have supported The Magic of Christmas!

Emily Dickinson - poet and baker: The Caribbean Black Cake

New England Historical Society article:

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

Emily Dickinson not only wrote stunning poetry, she was a terrific baker.

She baked for her family, and often sent cakes and breads to her friends along with odd little notes.

Critic R.P. Blackmur wrote in 1937 "[S]he was a private poet who wrote as indefatigably as some women cook or knit.”

You can turn that around: She was a private cook who baked as indefatigably as she wrote.

And one of the things she baked was a (Carribean) "black cake".
https://www.africanbites.com/caribbean-black-cake/

Emily Dickinson was a homebody who spent decades of her life bedridden with chronic illnesses. Emily had two siblings, brother Austin and sister Lavinia. They grew up in a large home in Amherst, Massachusetts, where she lived all her life.

When Austin married, one of Emily’s friends, Edward Dickinson built a house for the couple, next to the family homestead.

Emily attended the Amherst Academy for seven years, and went to Mount Holyoke (then Mary Lyon's Mount Holyoke Female Seminary). Whether troubled by depression, ill health or homesickness, she only lasted there for 10 months. Austin brought her home.

She then helped managed the household, handling the kitchen chores and caring for her mother while Lavinia did the marketing and housekeeping. Neither sister married, and Emily became more and more reclusive.

When she reached her 30s, she pretty much stayed in the house all the time. Lavinia later said their mother needed constant attention, which Emily provided.

That doesn’t explain why she gave some neighborhood children gingerbread by lowering a basket of it out a second-floor window.

Or spoke to visitors through doors. Maybe she developed agoraphobia. Or maybe she just wanted to write her poems without the distraction of the outside world.

The Caribbean Black Cake is one of the delicacies Emily Dickinson baked. It started out in England as a fruitcake or plum cake, cakes made with dried or fresh fruit. 

As Bruce Kraig explains in The Oxford Encyclopedia of Food and Drink in America, English women in the early 1800s began to make their plum cakes darker. They did it with treacle, a syrup made during the refining of sugar. The so-called black cake spread to the British colony of Jamaica, where it got darker and boozier.

American women began to make it too. In 1832, Lydia Maria Child wrote a cookbook recommending using molasses (also made from the sugar-refining process, but whether treacle is molasses is a debate we won’t enter here). “A little molasses makes it dark colored, which is desirable," wrote Child. (Click here for the recipe.) She didn't call it black cake, though. She called it a wedding cake and iced it.

Princess Diana and Prince Charles served a tiered fruitcake at their wedding that lasted quite a long time. An auction house put a piece up for sale in 2018 for $1,200.

In the Caribbean, black cake has more to do with Christmas than weddings. For some, Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without a slice of black cake. It takes a year, say some, to make a proper black cake, and burnt sugar creates the distinctive black color. It has rum in it, too. According to Wikipedia, “It is possible to become intoxicated from consumption of an excessive amount of rum cake.”

Baking the Caribbean Black Cake
Emily Dickinson learned to bake bread at the age of 14. She wrote to a friend, “I am going to learn to make bread to-morrow. So you may imagine me with my sleeves rolled up, mixing flour, milk, salaratus, etc., with a great deal of grace. I advise you if you don’t know how to make the staff of life to learn with dispatch.”

She developed into an accomplished baker as well as a poet.
She wrote some of her poems on kitchen paper and even wrote one on the back of a recipe for coconut cake.

And she loved to do it. Her kitchen in Amherst was her favorite room, with pale green walls illuminated by the sunlight that streamed through the yellow windowsills.

The Dickinson home in Amherst Massachusetts

Her father would only eat bread she baked, which she did every day. Emily's rye-and-Indian bread took second prize at the 1856 Amherst Agricultural Fair.

In 1883, when she had reached her early fifties, she sent her recipe for black cake with a bouquet of flowers to Nellie Sweetser.

In June of 1884, she collapsed in the kitchen with an apparent nervous breakdown.
"I was making a loaf of cake...when I saw a great darkness coming and knew no more until late at night," she wrote. Her health continued to suffer, and she died on May 15, 1886 of Bright's disease (a particular kidney disease).

The Belle of Amherst

In 1976, William Luce’s play about Emily Dickinson, The Belle of Amherst, opened on Broadway. Julie Harris, who starred in it, won a Tony for her performance.

In the play, “Emily Dickinson” recites the actual recipe for a black cake: “two pounds of flour, two pounds of sugar, two pounds of butter, nineteen eggs, five pounds of raisins, one and a half pounds of currants, one and a half pounds of citron, one half pint of brandy -- I never use Father's best -- one half-pint of molasses, two nutmegs, five teaspoons of cloves, mace and cinnamon, and -- oh, yes, two teaspoons of soda, and one and a half teaspoons of salt."

Remember, 19th-century bakers used to do a lot of baking all at once.

Then “Emily” goes on to tell the audience to beat the butter and sugar together, add the 19 eggs one at a time without beating. Beat again, adding the brandy alternately with the flour, soda, spices and salt, which have all been sifted together. Then add molasses. Take the raisins and citrons and gently sprinkle into the batter. Bake for three hours if you use cake pans, six or seven if you use a milk pan.

You can get a more modern (smaller) version of the recipe here, but don’t plan to serve it until next Christmas. You can also buy a book called, Baking Emily Dickinson's Black Cake.

Caribbean Black Cake

With thanks to Carol Dommermuth-Costa · Emily Dickinson Singular Poet.

Christmas at a Navy Base Hospital - letter published in 1919

This one hundred year old uplifting Christmas letter was published in the 1919, edition of the American Journal of Nursing. I discovered the letter while doing a literature search for an entirely different topic. Although the author is identified only by initials, the caring personality behind the narrative remains and the spirit of the letter has transcended time.  One hundred years has not changed the generosity experienced by giving when celebrating Christmas and the enthusiasm expressed by those who bring joy to others.

Title:  Christmas at a Navy Base Hospital

Dear Editor:  Reading in the December Journal (AJN), "She's In the Navy Now", I am reminded about my first Christmas spent at a Navy Base Hospital.  With the holidays drawing near, the thought of "Home Sweet Home" seems to prevail in the camp; in fact, so strong is the feeling that one can see the exact length of leave printed in the expressions of the faces of the boys as you work with them on the wards from day to day; also, it is quite noticeable if leave, for any particular reason, has not been granted. We had a very strenuous two months in the influenza wards and when the opportunity to relax presented itself, everybody fell to and a real christmassy Christmas was planned for the boys who were left behind.  Our new recreation hall was so near completion that a favorable word from the Commanding Officer was all that was necessary to put it at our disposal. Securing an auto truck, two good wood choppers, an axe or two, and sharp knives, we started for the woods for holly and greens. Have you ever tried to find a particular spot in the southern part of Jersey?  The roads are good traveling, which is one redeeming feature, for I'm sure we covered miles hunting the paces where holly grows, as described to us, and we felt somewhat like the Nanny who, when asked why she would not ride on the merry-go-round, said, "Why, child, you pays your money and you rides and rides and rides, when you gets off, where have you been?"  So, we, too, found ourselves very nearly back at the camp, after a good hours run.  It was great sport, trimming the wards, and recreational hall, and boys who had looked forward to no Christmas tree and no holly began to sit up and take notice once more.  I shall never forget the variety of opinions expressed and the suggestions offered and while it was not wise to act on them all, here and there, an idea was used to great advantage. Christmas Eve was the best ever for some of the boys; we popped corn and strung it for the tree, spun tops until about dizzy ourselves and tooted toy horns, a signal for everybody to gather in the recreation hall. They came, the lame and the halt. For the first time in my short life in the Navy, rules and regulations were put on the shelf and "Carry On" was the pass word for the remainder of the evening.  After movies- Navy punch, cookies, and candy were served, then a present for everybody from the tree.  Some one started to play, "Over There", "It's a Long Way to Berlin,", etc., and lost in song and smokes, the miles separating the boys from home and home folks were forgotten, for the time being.  E. B..S.

Tribute to the 200 year anniversary of the birth of Florence Nightingale

Poetry tribute to Florence Nightingale (1820-1910) founder of modern nursing. This poem was published in the American Journal of Nursing, 1919. International nursing organizations will be paying tribute to her accomplished life, because she is the founder of the nursing profession.  

Angel of the Crimea by Minnie D. Wilbur published in the American Journal of Nursing, 1919

O Lady with the Lamp! Behold the glow,

That heavenly flame you kindled long ago,

Is sending now to every race and creed,

Help for the helpless, gifts for those in need.

That vital spark which woke in your brave soul

Burns on and on, an ever fadeless glow.

Years shall not dim its brightness, as they fly,

For time is naught to deeds that never die.

O pain of war! O joy of peace! No more

Shall smolder low that heavenly flame which bore

Aid for all future centuries, to bind

Our faith in God, our love for humankind.

My photo taken in London- Florence Nightingale's statue:

Eulogy to Stanley Daniel Selenski - The Lion in Winter rest in peace

Although I was unable to attend the Funeral Mass celebrated in Baltimore, MD, to tribute the life of my friend Stan, this eulogy given at the Roman Catholic liturgy expressed my emotions and is a much better life review than I could have written.  Stan's yearbook picture and message is scanned from our Dundalk High School yearbook.  I have difficulty reading his handwriting but I believe the inscription is, "Dear Julie, when two people love one another, it doesn't matter who loves the other the most. I have enough love for two....(and after that, I cannot decipher the remainder of the message.)  xox.

Stan's email address was TheLionInWinter@aol.com
He was always on stage.....

From: bonniegypt <bonniegypt@aol.com>
Date: Saturday, November 30, 2019
Subject: Eulogy

Dundalk High School Mini Reunion 2017 Julie and Stan

All the world's a stage, and all men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances, and one man in his time plays many parts. The person we have come to honor here today definitely took Shakespeare’s words to heart.

Stanley Daniel Selenski entered the world stage on June 23, 1945, in a taxi going through the Holland Tunnel. Such a dramatic entry into this world would set the stage for a lifetime of stories.

Stanley would never get to know his Father because he was killed in the war before he was born and since his Mother never re-married, he grew up as an only child. He spent his entire childhood in Dundalk, where he attended public school and St. Rita’s Catholic Church. After he graduated from Dundalk H.S. he entered the seminary to study theology in Ontario, Canada. He had just turned 18 that summer and believed that God was calling him. He would only spend 1 year in the seminary but to quote his recollection of that time in his life he said “I can honestly say that I felt more at peace with myself, my world and my God that one year in the seminary than I have ever since”.

Throughout his childhood, his educational pursuits, his professional life, and most recently, in his Zumba class, he was known to everyone as Stan or Stanley.

Sometime around 1965 he adopted the role of Bradley Ian-Fitzwilliam Grant. This is what I would call his longest running theatrical portrayal of a very complex character. In this role he would be able to concoct elaborate stories, which were basically true, but which usually included a lot of added commentary, so you were never quite sure where to draw the line between fact and fiction.

In 1967 his Mom passed away and at 22 years of age he found himself alone which would be the beginning of his “one man shows”. It was during this time that he assumed the role of an activist, standing up for equal rights, no matter what the consequences, going so far as to travel to Washington and then to Philadelphia to attend a protest against discrimination.

In the late 70’s he purchased a home on Eutaw Place in a neighborhood that was in transition. He was determined to restore it to its former grandeur. It was a labor of love which included adding a gilded gas light dining room chandelier, floor to ceiling tapestries, brocade drapes and an entire wall mural of the ancient Egyptian “Judgement Day” painted by his friend. He added a beautiful garden with a koi pond and his favorite banana tree and elephant ear plants. He became an advocate for the Reservoir Hill neighborhood and convinced the city to repair the Druid Hill Park fountain.

Bradley loved to attend Mardi Gras in New Orleans and after several visits he was encouraged by a friend to experience Mardi Gras in Rio. After his first visit in 1984, he immediately fell in love. It was at that time he got the chance to take on a foreign role. He was cast in the role of Leandro Barbosa. For this role he would have to learn Portuguese so he signed up to learn a word a day. He also took private lessons in Baltimore and went to language school in Rio. He became proficient in the language which enabled him to act as a tour guide for all who went to visit him. 

Some of us may only have known him as Stanley, or Bradley, or Leandro. A few may have even seen his “off Broadway” character Peyton York. But several of us had the opportunity to see him play all three characters. And a character he was! He said that most people described his as “theatrical”. The world was definitely his stage and he enjoyed playing many parts. He would often say “I don’t sing or dance very well, but I do both often with great joy”. At times he was flamboyant, sometimes a little outrageous, but always joyful.

His exits would often go unnoticed, and he was known for slipping out of an event undetected, but his entrances were not to be missed. He would usually enter a room, arms flailing, singing some Broadway number at the top of his lungs, letting you know he had arrived!

He would often startle people when he was out in public. He would strike up conversations with complete strangers, and when I would suggest that maybe sometimes he was scaring people, he would remark “I’m just trying to be friendly”!

Depending on which chapter of his life you were involved in, you may have seen him play the part of Seminarian, Activist, English Teacher, Archivist, Taxi Driver, Gemologist, Nursing Home Administrator, or Zumba dancer.

The common thread that we have probably all experienced is sharing a meal together. All three characters had a voracious appetite. Bradley would organize a huge dinner party at Tio Pepe’s where he would order a roasted suckling pig and it would remind me of a medieval feast. I believe he missed his calling as a professional food critic. He could tell you which Chinese restaurant had the best Wonton soup and chicken chow mein, where to get the best Pho, who made the best snowballs because they shaved the ice just right, who had the best crab cakes and lamb chops, and where you could get the best bang for the buck in Brasil. He would also lament about how there used to be 4 shrimp positioned a certain way on the plate and now they only gave you 3...and of course they didn't give you enough sauce anymore, and the crab imperial just wasn't as crispy on the top as it once was. He frequented the Acropolis and Dock of the Bay but as Andrew and Bonnie Russo can attest to this, I believe his favorite place to go was Fago De Chao. It was there that he could satisfy his carnivorous appetite and speak Portuguese to the waiters.

He would celebrate his Birthday for an entire month by strategically scheduling his lunch and dinner dates to cover all his favorite restaurants and food groups. And let's not forget steamed crabs! He would announce to me that he had crabs with cousin Barbara, or his Godchild Christine, or Marianne, or with his Zumba group. He loved the crab soup that Allen's friend made and Terry's meatloaf and Bonnie’s raspberry thumb print cookies! He absolutely loved food. He never really learned to cook but he did have a unique talent in persuading others to cook for him.

Another common thread was that all three were very frugal. My husband would say that he could make a buffalo squeal while holding onto a nickel. In the month before he passed he told me that he thought the cancer had gone to his brain because he had let a coupon expire!

As frugal as he was while he was living, he was equally generous in death. He is not physically here with us today because he donated his body to the Anatomy board to be used for the advancement of medical science.

When Bradley was first diagnosed with lung cancer it came as no surprise. He had smoked a good part of his life and even though he had stopped many years ago, he knew it was too late. He was proud of the fact that he had managed to get through his entire life without ever being hospitalized. When the surgeon recommended removing part of his lung, he was somewhat optimistic that he could beat this disease. During the surgery the doctor discovered that it had spread to his chest wall, and other areas, so he just closed him back up. That is when he started his three years of chemo and radiation treatments. After the first year he was declared to be "in remission". He was so excited that he could travel again to his "happy place" in Brasil. For the past 35 years he would fly, like a migrating bird, to the warmth of Brasil, to avoid the winter months here. He did not like the cold, and at the site of the first pumpkin, he would purchase his ticket to spend the next 4 to 6 months in Rio. Several of us had the pleasure to visit him there and he was all too happy to share his love of Rio with you.

When he returned from Rio he was told that the cancer had returned which meant 2 more years of varied forms of treatments. After 3 years his body decided that it could not endure anymore.

He was admitted to Gilchrist on October 1st for what was supposed to be a 5 day Respite care. They had later planned on moving him to a full care facility but that was not to be the case. He had many visitors during his time there. Even though many of us had known him for 40 or 50 years we were meeting each other for the very first time. He had a way of compartmentalizing things…even his friends. We joked, we laughed, we reminisced….up until those last few days. When the hospice Rabbi came into the room to offer solace to him and those in attendance, he wished the Rabbi a Happy New Year in Hebrew. He was definitely a multi-faceted individual.

I called Fr. Joe to notify him that Stanley had been placed in Hospice care at Gilchrist and he requested that he come to see him. He had great respect for Fr. Joe and had remarked that “when Fr. Joe looks at me I think he can see right into my soul”. I would later find out that it was Bradley’s soul he had been looking into!

In the month before his passing we spoke of many things. He mentioned that he lived a full life and there wasn't really anything left in the bucket. He realized the end was near but that even though he was prepared, he wasn't quite ready to step through that door. He was a devout Catholic so he had made his peace with God and he had no fears. In those final 2 weeks he shared with me that he was giving up the fight and he felt that there were no reasons for him to continue. He had no immediate family, he had no spouse, and he had no purpose to carry on. I tried to explain that he had an entire network of friends who cared for him deeply and would miss him if he was gone. Seeing all of you here today proves that I was correct. He was surrounded by many of his friends in his final days, and he is being honored by your presence here today, which is a testament to the friendships he made throughout his life.

Stanley, Bradley, and Leandro, you have played your parts well and have kept your audiences entertained. This time your exit did not go un-noticed. You may have created a void in our lives but over the years you have filled us with so much joy. On October 11th, you took your final bow, the stage went dark, and the curtains came to a close.

Durma Com Os Anjos.......May you sleep with the Angels.