For Whom The Bell Tolls

I know... cheesy to steal the title from the ever more famous and great writer, Ernest Hemingway, but I like it.  And it works for this post about church bells.

There is a pretty little Catholic church, St. Patrick's, on the next block.  Jason's Mom said it used to have a contingent of Nuns and even, at one point, served as a Monastery but now was vacated for lack of a large enough congregation to warrant the expense of keeping clergy there.  Someone still rings the bells, though.  And the parish website lists a full schedule of meetings and masses. So who knows?

Photo from the website of
Our Lady of the Mountains
Roman Catholic Parish of Cumberland, MD

I've noticed the bells several times at 6:00 am, noon, and 6:00 pm.  At first I thought they were marking time.  And then I became vaguely aware that there were significantly more than 6 (or 12) peals... This morning I counted 22.

And so I went to Google for some answers.

I learned that the history of ringing church bells dates back to 400 AD. Paulinas of Nola was the first to introduce them to the Christian church and Pope Sabinianus sanctioned them in 604 perhaps as part of the meshing of Pagan practices into the early church as more people became members by force if not by choice.  Pagan winter celebrations have long included ringing bells to drive out evil spirits perpetuating the idea that bells have great spiritual significance though nothing in the Bible distinctly calls for the ringing of bells as part of worship.

Today's Catholic, Lutheran and Anglican churches ring bells at 6:00 a.m., noon, and 6:00 p.m. as a summons for members to pause and recite The Lord's Prayer or Angelus.  This schedule is also steeped in ancient tradition. Christianity draws from Bible verses speaking of thrice daily prayer:

Psalms 55:17 says "Evening, and morning, and at noon, will I pray, and cry aloud: and he shall hear my voice."

And Daniel 6:10, "Now when Daniel knew that the writing was signed, he went into his house; and his windows being open in his chamber toward Jerusalem, he kneeled upon his knees three times a day, and prayed, and gave thanks before his God, as he did aforetime."

Praying 3 times a day is consistent with the Jewish practice of visiting the Wailing Wall.  And sounding a call to prayer is analogous to the Islamic tradition of the adhan from a minaret.  I think it's very interesting that we draw from so many diverse cultures and traditions for something so pleasant as bells on neighborhood churches.

About St. Patricks, their website gives this history "The rich history of Mt. Savage includes one of the first masses celebrated in the area in 1793 by Fr. Stephen Badin (the first priest ordained in America). As the Catholic population grew, St. Ignatius Church was built between 1829 and 1835. When a larger church was needed, construction began on what is now St. Patrick’s Church, named for the predominance of Irish immigrants. The new church was formally dedicated in October of 1873. Mt. Savage is also the birthplace of Edward Cardinal Mooney (1882-1958) who was elevated to Cardinal in 1946 by Pope Pius XII."

Pretty cool... While I still have no idea if 22 bell peals at 6:00 a.m. has meaning, or is just the result of an especially enthusiastic bell ringer, I can say I've walked in the footsteps of America's first priest now!

Friday Night Football

From the school's Facebook page.

Ritchie County High School/Middle School is just on the other side of Highway 50 and some of these pleasant Friday nights, I’ve heard a faint roar from the crowd at a football game or heard a particularly enthusiastic drum beat, or maybe a tuba blast, as the band kicked it into high gear. It all had me thinking that small town life really hasn’t changed all that much… High School sports still dominate the social culture in our heartland.  I’ve even been thinking it would be fun to go to a game.

From the school's Facebook page.  Looks like the whole county
came out for this game!!

On another Friday night.

When it isn’t raining (it is tonight).  Because, you know, I might melt or something if I get wet.

Now, I wonder if that’s something I really want to do.  Friday night in early October means football and when it's the only game in town, you hear about it.  Sometimes when you don't really anticipate it, even. Coming home my only strong radio station shifted from light rock to a 2-hour long pre-game show for… High School Football.  And I actually found myself listening with morbid fascination!

Still shot from a game tape found on Youtube.com

Some of the standout comments:

• There’s a Catholic School somewhere near-ish named Madonna.  Apparently, their school color is blue because they are widely referred to as the Blue Dons. I’m not Catholic so I don’t know for sure… but isn’t it kind of rude to call the Holy Mother by a dude’s name?

• Our local team must be having an off year.  One of the announcers said tonight’s game in Ellenboro is the kind where the other team should practice plays they aren’t very good at.

• Technical and un-sportsman like conduct fouls are being called against half-time band performances and Homecoming activities when they don’t clear the field in precisely their allotted 20 minutes.  One guy went so far as to say there should be some electronic way to tip the field so they all slid into the end zone and could get sorted out later.  Another called for directors to come up with a universal signal for “ band geeks to just forget how it looks and get off the field in the quickest direction possible!” because a marching band stayed in formation through a hurried exit.

With those comments, the statistical analysis they were providing of teams, coaches, and individual players, and really just the overall tone of the show I had to wonder when High School sports got to be such serious business.  I’ve watched NFL commentary that was less detailed and critical.  Seriously, individual players had their skills shredded.  Coach’s competency was questioned.  Officials were criticized both over calls they made on field and judgment calls they didn’t make the way the commentators wished.  (The judgement call was over allowing a game to proceed during inclement weather because the rain, and the resulting mud on the field, affected who won.  They went on to criticize the losing quarterback’s mentality for dropping a ball when his hands were caked with mud because he should be smart enough to tuck multiple towels in his waistband to wipe his hands and just toss one when it got too dirty.)  But I think what bothered me most was the praise for “playing a very physical game” when one team inflicted multiple injuries on an opposing team and ruined any chance for them to play in the state championship tournament that year.

When did HIGH SCHOOL sports get so serious?   And when did adults get so mean about it?

Or have I really blocked so many unpleasant memories from my childhood that it only seems like I grew up inside a Norman Rockwell painting?  I don’t know.  But if this is today’s normal, I will happily move back under my happy little rock!

Some Thoughts on Apple Butter

Regarding the rules for West Virginia, The Farmer’s Market Vendor Guide: A Guide for Farmers, Sanitarians, and the Consumer lists apple butter, along with sorghum and molasses, as a food product with a special classification.  It can be produced outdoors in open copper kettles and then sold at Farmer’s Markets and other venues.  In order to sell most foods, the facility where they are produced is required have some level of certification as a commercial kitchen.  The reasoning for excepting these foods is that the combination of high temperatures before jarring and the generous amount of sugar they contain decrease the likelihood that the product is “potentially hazardous” to a very low level.  Maybe it also speaks to tradition and tourism, too.  Demonstrations of the historical method for making apple butter are featured at a number of fall festivals.  And at least two cities in West Virginia have dedicated Apple Butter Festivals!

Photo lifted from the Salem Apple Butter Festival, Inc.
Facebook page.

I had high hopes for a really unique experience when I drove the 30-ish miles east to Salem this afternoon.  With  no disrespect intended for the many hours of work put in by the folks who organize this festival, I have to say I was a bit disappointed.  It was busy and active and by all those kinds of measures, successful.  It's just... there was nothing to set it apart from any other street fair in any other town in America, except for the apple butter making demonstration.  I do have to say, I did enjoy watching it simmering in a big open kettle over a wood fire! That historical aspect is what was missing from the rest of the festival, in my opinion, as this was surely the best part of it for me.

Photo from the official website of the
Salem Apple Butter Festival, Inc.

However, you don’t need an open roaring fire or a big copper kettle to make really great apple butter.  Basically, it’s apples and sugar and spices cooked down to a jam-like consistency.  You can do it stovetop or even in your crockpot using any one of the dozens of recipes available on Pinterest.  Or, if  you are that kind of woman, you can bust out the cauldron and go for it outdoors... One of these soon to come days, I plan to give it a try!  Probably on the stovetop, though.

And unless I find a good reason to choose otherwise, McIntosh will be my apple of choice.

Photo from Jane Lear (actually read this post on
her fancy food blog - great guide for choosing
your apples!)

The West Virginia-grown McIntosh's seem especially delicious to me this year... maybe they always are; this is my first time tasting them here and I am wowed by their tangy sweetness with just a hint of strawberry flavor.  I'm pretty sure I could be a very happy girl with a whole orchard of these beauties in my yard!!  And the boys are surely loving having them fresh as our nightly snack!  Me too.

A Sunday Drive

Today I skipped out on Church.  Instead, Derek and I decided to go for a Sunday drive and spend some time looking around our future neighborhood and downtown Dallas.  Pictures will have to come at a later time... I was too busy gawking at every daffodil filled yard, leafing tree, horse in a pasture, historical marker and random thrift store (seriously, there were 6 within 2 miles of the house!) to get any taken today.

Obviously, I am in complete love and awe of the rural-ness and small town lifestyle I saw!

Photo credit:  maps.google.com

The main intersection just a few hundred feet from where our little lane begins is where the Old Cartersville Highway merges onto E. Paulding Drive as it crosses the Dallas Acworth Highway.  You can kind of see where the yellow highlighted roads converge in the very bottom right corner of the map.  We drove 2-3 miles in each direction just to get a feel for the area and into the vibrant and historical downtown business district.  And it was much like the prototypical Sunday afternoon drive you might imagine your grandparents enjoying.

What I saw spoke of simpler times when life was lived at a slower pace.  Even the gas station where we stopped seemed to be a throwback.  There was a sign on the counter indicating that the attendant had stepped away for a few minutes.  They were so trusting that customers would honestly pay that the store was left open.

I really think I'm going to enjoy living here!