Arise with St. Patrick

St. Patrick's Breastplate

I bind unto myself today
The strong Name of the Trinity,
By invocation of the same,
The Three in One and One in Three.

I bind this day to me for ever.
By power of faith, Christ's incarnation;
His baptism in the Jordan river;
His death on Cross for my salvation;
His bursting from the spicèd tomb;
His riding up the heavenly way;
His coming at the day of doom;*
I bind unto myself today.

I bind unto myself the power
Of the great love of the cherubim;
The sweet 'well done' in judgment hour,
The service of the seraphim,
Confessors' faith, Apostles' word,
The Patriarchs' prayers, the Prophets' scrolls,
All good deeds done unto the Lord,
And purity of virgin souls.

I bind unto myself today
The virtues of the starlit heaven,
The glorious sun's life-giving ray,
The whiteness of the moon at even,
The flashing of the lightning free,
The whirling wind's tempestuous shocks,
The stable earth, the deep salt sea,
Around the old eternal rocks.

I bind unto myself today
The power of God to hold and lead,
His eye to watch, His might to stay,
His ear to hearken to my need.
The wisdom of my God to teach,
His hand to guide, His shield to ward,
The word of God to give me speech,
His heavenly host to be my guard.

Against the demon snares of sin,
The vice that gives temptation force,
The natural lusts that war within,
The hostile men that mar my course;
Or few or many, far or nigh,
In every place and in all hours,
Against their fierce hostility,
I bind to me these holy powers.

Against all Satan's spells and wiles,
Against false words of heresy,
Against the knowledge that defiles,
Against the heart's idolatry,
Against the wizard's evil craft,
Against the death wound and the burning,
The choking wave and the poisoned shaft,
Protect me, Christ, till Thy returning.

Christ be with me, Christ within me,
Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort and restore me.
Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,
Christ in hearts of all that love me,
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.

I bind unto myself the Name,
The strong Name of the Trinity;
By invocation of the same.
The Three in One, and One in Three,
Of Whom all nature hath creation,
Eternal Father, Spirit, Word:
Praise to the Lord of my salvation,
Salvation is of Christ the Lord.

_______________________________________

My Life Out of Doors

Jason Aldean, "Amarillo Sky": Throughout this video, Jason Aldean includes scenes of family-operated farms and the wooden barns, fields of crops, farm-houses, tractors, and machinery that typify them. The farm machinery and buildings within the video are presented in a way that make the unique features of each farm and the tasks that distinguish them appear to be key parts of the residing family’s identities, a type of identity that many people from the Midwest who have grown up on or who have relatives with family farms have felt and can understand. As a little boy, most of my days, hours, and months were spent exploring the calf barns, helping my grandmother feed chickens, and riding along with my grandpa on his Oliver 1655 as we plowed and planted fields on the farm. From an outsider (city-person’s) point-of-view, many typical farm chores may appear tedious, messy, dangerous, and out-of-date. Using hand tools, carrying buckets of feed or water, and pushing, pulling, or lifting to get the job done are all types of human exertion that seem silly and unnecessary with modern machines, technologies, and their capabilities. Despite these slightly unappealing attributes, farms and the jobs that characterize them allowed me to enter into the work and learning oriented human world by giving me simple jobs like filling buckets with water, opening gates, and helping my grandpa navigate his tractor through the fields, and by answering my questions like "Where does milk come from?" "What sound does a pig make?" and "What happens if you touch a hot muffler?" The young men interviewed in the video and the images and lyrics used by Jason Aldean give the impression that I am not the only one whose first steps were taken and affinities were made on a family-operated farm.





Buddy Jewel, "Sweet Southern Comfort": Amid the clips of him singing and the views of his ideas about "Sweet Southern Comfort," Buddy Jewel adds excerpts of a young boy and an older gentlemen with fishing poles, tackle, and matching attire as they cast, laugh, and talk. The scene offers a glimpse of a young boy learning to use a new tool, object, or talent (in this case a fishing rod) through the teaching of a older person, most likely a relative, whom he looks up to; it is an experience that almost every person has had in some instance of their life. In grade school, I spent many of my weekends at small lakes and farm ponds with my father and his brothers learning to us the fishing rod and enclosed Shakespeare reel I was given as a Christmas gift. The rod was economical, made of low-grade fiberglass, and the enclosed Shakespeare reel was wound with four-pound, monofilament test-line meant for pan fishing; neither would have had a chance in a battle with a real lunker. They were comical compared to the Daiwa Baitcasting Reels and Pro Series Fishing Rods used by experienced anglers who wanted guaranteed precision and accuracy during their excursions. Regardless of the relatively low-quality of my equipment, I tested my father’s patience and felt like a professional as I forced him to untangle the knots, analyze my fishing stance, and remove from my hook each minuscule bluegill, perch, and crappie caught less than five feet from shore; my total number of fish always exceeded his, yet he was the only one who ever managed to catch a keeper. From the appearance of this video, Buddy Jewel may have experienced similar situations during his youth, or may have possibly provided this experience for a son or daughter of his own.






Darryl Worley, “Tennessee River Run”: Between video of Darryl Worley singing and driving boats around a lake a short clip of people jumping off a cliff and swinging on ropes into a small pond is inserted. The scenes provide the audience with an example of dare devil like actions that are often viewed as fun, thrilling and sometimes adventure. After discovering the opportunities a small creek or pond could offer to young elementary school aged boys, my summer weekends and days began to be spent down by Steven’s Creek which ran through our property. Steven's Creek, no more than fifteen feet wide, four foot deep, and with a current that was mostly unnoticeable, hardly appears to be a place to go thrill-seeking and courage testing. Its opportunities for rope swings, makeshift rafts and bridges, and jumps from its five or six foot banks likely required more imagination than the guts and bravery necessary for skydiving, hang-gliding, bungy jumping, and other more daring types of activities. Nevertheless, the childish daredevil activities that Steven’s Creek offered me and my friends allowed us to participate in thrilling adventures where we rafted white water rapids, scaled mountains, crossed rope bridges over deep canyons, and sailed between trees on jungle vines. From the clips in the video, specifically the cliff diving and rope swinging, it would seem that thrill seeking can be practiced in multiple ways with the extent of one’s imagination being the only limitation.




Kenny Rogers, “The Greatest”: In this video, Kenny Rogers sings for an audience, taking the perspective of a boy practicing baseball telling himself, “I am the greatest, the game is on the line, and he gives his all, one last time.” His words create a vision for the audience of boy alone on a baseball diamond, talking himself through each swing of his bat and throw of the ball in hopes of someday becoming the “greatest.” In junior high and high school, I shot an incalculable number of baskets in my driveway and ran an overwhelming number of miles on the road adjacent to our place telling myself, “You're the best shooter in the state,” and, “No one has the guts to run as fast or as hard as you.” It is common for teenagers to spend hours of time alone, telling themselves they are the "greatest" or imagining fantastical game situations while practicing to improve their athletic abilities in hopes of gaining popularity or with aspirations of becoming a high school, college, or even professional star. Many of these teenagers give up in the end, thinking or realizing it is not worth the effort, the solitude, or that their dreams are simply unreachable; however, the ones who do persevere and are able to continually “give their all one last time,” achieve their goals and give their time spent practicing reason. These same athletic aspirations, my own words of encouragement and empowerment, and the imaginary games and races I had against figures like Michael Jordan and Steve Prefontaine enabled me to persist through the lonely workouts in high school and my goals. From the sound of Kenny Roger’s words, it would seem that he, as well as many other people in the past, have had the desire like me to “give it their all” one more time than anyone had before them.





Marshall Tucker Band, "Bob Away My Blues": While singing the song “Bob Away My Blues” live on video, the Marshall Tucker Band uses the lyrics I’m gonna close my eyes and let that cork bob away my blues” when describing what he will do after going to the river. These words evoke an image in the audience of a man watching a bobber, but otherwise letting his mind explore daydreams and thoughts that are bothering him or on his mind. As high school classes, athletics and responsibilities grew more stressful and time consuming, my thoughts, ways to escape, relax and reset my energy became hiking, fishing and camping trips by myself to parts not far from home. Away from the trips, it is almost humorous to think a few hours alone could have been more fulfilling than spending time with family or friends; however, the benefits become evident when one understands what the solitary camping and fishing trips consisted of. The trips required no mental activity geared towards deadlines or priorities, but instead, let the mind wander whatever direction it pleased so long as it could complete the simple tasks of monitoring a bobber or telling the legs to take the next step. Although the trips may seem introverted or unsocial, their lack of rules, requirements, or essential activities enabled me to spend the time necessary for refining my beliefs about God, religion and live, debating the benefits, rewards and challenges of future occupations and for understanding who I am, what I enjoy and what I want to make out of the life I have. Upon the apparent meaning of the lyrics used by Marshall Tucker Band, it would seem that I was not the first or only one to turn to solitary activities for relaxation.





Travis Tritt; "Lord Have Mercy on the Working Man": Between shots of Travis Tritt singing and men and women working, excerpts of rolling coins of every size and value and dollar bills of multiple color and worth flash across the screen at different speeds and intervals. The forms of money flashing across the screen where men and women were working hard at blue color jobs just seconds before presents the audience with the idea that money is necessary in life and comes from working a job. As a high school student with empty pockets and soon to be a college student paying tuition, it became apparent that is was time to get a job and make some money; summer landscaping was the answer. Looking back at the $8.00/hour wage given for the types of manual labor involved, it is hard to imagine that the effort it required seemed worth it. Digging hundreds of feet for irrigation tiles, digging holes up to four feet deep for planting balled and burlapped trees, scooping countless shovels of landscape rock and mulch and climbing trees to remove with hand saws, not to mention the heat, mud, sweat, blisters and aching muscles that went with everything, hardly seems like a good way to make some extra money. However, the money that I made moving dirt and planting trees allowed me to attend the college of my choice, Nebraska Wesleyan University, while at the same time spending time outside in the fresh air that I loved that, characterized many of the activities I found most exiting in life, and that distinguished the way that I had spent most of my summers before. The video makes it seem that Travis Tritt and many others agree with me that money is necessary for choices in life, but the way money is made does not always have to be the same.




Reba MacEntire, "Is There Life Out There?": Near the end of the music video, after she has been sad because things seem to not be going her way, Reba is shown getting an A in the class and wearing a cap and gown. The cap and gown are recognizable to almost everyone as symbols of graduation ceremonies, which are often accompanied by diplomas and family gatherings. At the Pius X High School 2008 graduation ceremony, my graduation, two hundred and thirty- two other high school graduates, all wearing the same emerald green outfits, filled the stage of the Johnny Carson Theater at the Lied Center of Performing Arts with me. When looking at graduation ceremonies and the activities and traditions that accompany them, one might actually struggle to hold back a laugh while considering that graduation is an achievement that is supposed to separate people and recognize their individuality. Grouping together all the graduates wearing matching floor-length gowns and silly mortarboard caps hardly seems like the best way to embrace each's distinctiveness. Nevertheless, my graduation ceremony was a symbolic closure for the achievement of my high school goals, and an invitation to pursue my future career related goal involving a biology and environmental studies major that has been influenced by the outdoor activities including farming, working, camping, and fishing that have been integral parts in my personal growth and development. It would seem from the appearance of the video that graduation not only helped me pursue future goals, but most likely Reba and many others.

Final Blog

I see myself as an average writer. I believe that over the semester, I have improved my understanding about what quality writing looks like and the effort that is required for me to achieve the quality of writing that I am capable of. I discovered that my former writing process involved sitting down and forcing an entire paper out at once. Over the semester I learned that it takes multiple drafts to form a finished product and that sometimes, by leaving your work and coming back to it later, I can overcome those words, lines, or ideas in my writing that I am/was stuck on. I think this will be one of the most important things that I learned over the semester and that it will be one the things that will positively influence my future writing.
Work-shopping was an aspect of this class that helped me see ways that I could improve my own writing style. By looking at both the good and bad aspects of my classmates styles, I was able to add to and delete from my own style in order to improve my writing.
One of the most important specific changes in my writing style that I have made during the semester was to build a different view of what writing and organization of writing is. At first, my writing was the typical 5 paragraph essay with an opening, body, and conclusion. However, I learned that it is not always necessary to write this way, and that often times it is better to branch out and use you own style. I learned that a writer's style and the way he presents information can often times be a more effective means of expressing views, opinions, or evoking thought. For example in the "St. Sebastian Cow" and the Essay Video on youtube.com, messages were expressed in very unique ways that are still considered writing. The authors used their own style to create this writing, and their unique styles are big reasons that their writing is considered good.
As for my own style, I am not entirely sure I've found it yet. I think I am still searching to find my own unique style and it will take more writing to understand how I enjoy writing and write best. I believe this semester allowed me to experiment with styles and aspects of styles, an important step in finding my style. Examples of my changing style can be seen in my blogs. In Whiskers, one of my final blogs I tackle the idea of my dad's whiskers and their implications in my life. This is a subject I would never have tackled or thought could have been a subject at the beginning of the semester. This is evident in my early blog Apples where I talk about why apples are funny.

Whiskers!

Joel Schlautman's face (my dad) has been covered with whiskers for most of his life. His whiskers are mostly blond with mixed in with brown and reddish tones. My dad's whiskers were usually short and stubby, and felt similar to sandpaper when you rubbed a hand against them.
As a child, I remember sitting on my dad's lap and playing games with him. I looked up to him. I'd rub my had against his cheek and feel his whiskers, and he'd rub his face against mine scratching my cheeks. His whiskers were pathotic. They were an object of endearment, and seeing and feeling them as a small child made me know that I was loved and protected by my father.
As I grew, my dad grew into more of the discipliner and mentor that I needed as a young team. Instead of the feelings of love and protection that his whiskers once gave me, they now made me feel young. His whiskers were something I did not have, and they symbolized the knowledge and wisdom about life that I lacked and he had. In an effort to help me bcome a successful man and person, he forced this wisdom and judgement upon me, and it seemed that often times I didn't always want to hear it. His whiskers were on a face that would smile when I did something right, but would also frown when he was disappointed. The whiskers were what I looked to in order to judge whether the decisions I made were right or wrong.
Today, the whiskers are still on my dad's face, but once again they have changed in what they symbolize and the meaning they have in my life. I can now reach up, touch my face, and feel the my own short stubby whiskers. My whiskers remind me of his, they remind me of what I am becoming, an adult with the responsibilities that my dad had as a man, a husband, and a father. When I see his whiskers, I am reminded of the role he has played in my life, and the impact that he has had in my development into an adult with my own whiskers.

Grandfather Frog Stays in the Smiling Pool

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A copy of "Grandfather Frog Stays in the Smiling Pool", written by Thorton W. Burgess in 1914, sits on top of a dresser. Besides the black sketch of Grandfather Frog sitting on his Lily Pad wearing a suit jacket and top-hat, the cover is a faded brown made up of visible criss-crossed fibers. It has an aged look, the cover lacks the boisterous colors, plastic outer cover, or computer generated graphics that characterize many of the books written in the past few decades. Its binding is loose, the corners of the cover are damaged with the fibers slightly unraveling like yarn in a woolen sweater, and its pages are creased and have some slight tears. The nearly 100 pages of the book are filled with more than noticeably large print and illustrations of Grandfather Frog and his other friends from the smiling pool have been illustrated on most of the pages by Harrison Cady.
The name Charles Brunnert is scrawled on the inside cover in an obviously childish cursive hand that contains glimpses and aspects of the elegant style that characterized the early 19th century. Charles Brunnert, my grandfather, received this as a Christmas gift when he was a child in the 1920's. It was the first book that he learned to read with the help of his mother Regina, the teacher at the one room school house in Argyle, MO. The words of the book and its images and stories of grandfather frog and his friends' adventures were some of the first to fill his mind.
Nearly 70 years later, when I was a child. The images and stories that fill this old brown covered book were the first that I read as well. I spent the summer with him and my grandmother the year before kindergarten helping/annoying them complete the simple tasks I was given on the farm. After the first few weeks, my grandfather decided that I was at the age where I should no how to read. "Grandfather Frog Stays in the Smiling Pool" was the first book he grabbed off the shelf, and we spent the rest of the summer evenings sitting in his chair letting Grandfather Frog teach me how to read just as he had taught my grandfather many years before.