Sepia Saturday

Sepia Saturday 410 Header

I thought I’d search the archives for children on St. Patrick’s Day.

For some vintage St. Patrick’s Day greeting cards, click here. I didn’t know there were cards sent for the holiday way back when. I’m happy to be wrong.

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March 17, 1924 from National Library of Ireland

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Parade in Sydney, 1940

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St. Patrick’s Day Pageant, 1937, Sydney

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St. Patrick’s Day Parade, Sydney, 1937

 

For more Sepia Saturday posts, click here.

12 Books of Christmas #2

off to bethlehem The children’s book Off to Bethlehem! by Dandi Daley Mackall is a breezy, poetic telling of the story of the nativity has endearing illustrations by R.W. Alley, though I was surprised how much older Joseph looks than Mary. (I guess he looks like he’s 40 while she’s a teen. There’s nothing I know of in the Bible about their age difference. I’d be happier with a younger Joseph. How about 20?)

Off to Bethlehem! is a great introduction or reminder of the reason for the season.

 

Taking Back Free Play

I do feel sorry for children today who’re over-programmed from an early age. I believe in organized activities and loved girl scouts, band, art classes and all, but I was also able to imagine, play with friends with little supervision and roam the neighborhood To Kill a Mockingbird style.

Now kids can’t roam.

Send a Beloved Child on a Journey

When I lived in Japan, I’d see very young children, some looking no more than 5 riding the train alone. It seemed like they were going to cram school or to a lesson. I admit I thought this was too young for children to be out alone, but after watching the video above and learning about the rationale, that the Japanese want to impart a sense of independence in their children and that after WWII parents couldn’t chauffeur their children to school, to rebuild quickly everyone had to work and pitch in. The kids pitched in by taking on the responsibility of getting themselves to school or accomplishing tasks outside the home.

Sepia Saturday

9 sept 2017

For this week’s prompt I found numerous photos of children playing. They live all over the world. It was a lot harder to find photos of girls playing. Most of the girls were depicted in drawings, not in photos.

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Children in New South Wales, Australia, 1924 Source: State Library of NSW

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Vietnamese children playing cards, 1904, Source: Univ of Washington

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Girls in Seattle, 1930, Source: Univ of Washington

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Boys in Albany, NY, 1910> Source: US National Archives

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Australian Girls, 1900. Source: Powerhouse Museum

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Madrid, Spain, 1908. Source: Geo. Eastman Museum

Poem of the Week

Among School Children

WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

I

I walk through the long schoolroom questioning;
A kind old nun in a white hood replies;
The children learn to cipher and to sing,
To study reading-books and history,
To cut and sew, be neat in everything
In the best modern way—the children’s eyes
In momentary wonder stare upon
A sixty-year-old smiling public man.

II

I dream of a Ledaean body, bent
Above a sinking fire, a tale that she
Told of a harsh reproof, or trivial event
That changed some childish day to tragedy—
Told, and it seemed that our two natures blent
Into a sphere from youthful sympathy,
Or else, to alter Plato’s parable,
Into the yolk and white of the one shell.

III

v

And thinking of that fit of grief or rage
I look upon one child or t’other there
And wonder if she stood so at that age—
For even daughters of the swan can share
Something of every paddler’s heritage—
And had that colour upon cheek or hair,
And thereupon my heart is driven wild:
She stands before me as a living child.

IV

Her present image floats into the mind—
Did Quattrocento finger fashion it
Hollow of cheek as though it drank the wind
And took a mess of shadows for its meat?
And I though never of Ledaean kind
Had pretty plumage once—enough of that,
Better to smile on all that smile, and show
There is a comfortable kind of old scarecrow.

V

What youthful mother, a shape upon her lap
Honey of generation had betrayed,
And that must sleep, shriek, struggle to escape
As recollection or the drug decide,
Would think her son, did she but see that shape
With sixty or more winters on its head,
A compensation for the pang of his birth,
Or the uncertainty of his setting forth?

VI

Plato thought nature but a spume that plays
Upon a ghostly paradigm of things;
Solider Aristotle played the taws
Upon the bottom of a king of kings;
World-famous golden-thighed Pythagoras
Fingered upon a fiddle-stick or strings
What a star sang and careless Muses heard:
Old clothes upon old sticks to scare a bird.

VII

Both nuns and mothers worship images,
But those the candles light are not as those
That animate a mother’s reveries,
But keep a marble or a bronze repose.
And yet they too break hearts—O Presences
That passion, piety or affection knows,
And that all heavenly glory symbolise—
O self-born mockers of man’s enterprise;

VIII

Labour is blossoming or dancing where
The body is not bruised to pleasure soul,
Nor beauty born out of its own despair,
Nor blear-eyed wisdom out of midnight oil.
O chestnut tree, great rooted blossomer,
Are you the leaf, the blossom or the bole?
O body swayed to music, O brightening glance,
How can we know the dancer from the dance?