Saturday, September 26, 2009

Kathleen Kent's The Heretics Daughter, thoughts and memories, sceneries of the mind

Journal entry of a Finnish immigrant brought up in Middlesex County in the Massachussetts Bay Colony who travelled to Sussex County England

I finished reading the last chapter of Kathleen Kent's The Heretics Daughter on the flight to England.

Check out the site which has pictures, info about the people prosecuted & trials and links and discussions

http://www.hachettebookgroup.com/features/hereticsdaughter/index.htm

The book was a tale of a daughter's relationship to her parents during the Salem witch trials. I closed my eyes and was haunted by memories of visiting my mom's friend's house in Andover (where Sarah Carrier lived) very late at night. That dark night my mom was helping to intervene with the course of her friend's husbands manic episode. He had torn apart many electrical appliances and sockets out of the walls and my mom pretended to us kids that nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Later I felt corrupted by realisation of the real situation, playing legos at a time when I never would have usually been allowed to be up in Acton. Business as usual, but in the shadows lurked fear and hysteria.



I also had flash memories of visiting the Salem witch museum - I remember grey dank stones, descriptions of the drowning test and an exhibit of a tier of rocks and planks Miles Corey was crushed under. Under which the book's Miles Corey would has finally uttered the only words of his trial, "more stones". Gross injustice brought about by hysterical pre-teens scared out of their whits displayed in a museum behind plexiglass. From my childhood trip to the museum I don't remember any personal stories, just a group of girls on frocks with aprons, white caps and buckled leather shoes- a mistreated Puritan flock. My first thought after finishing the book was how important it is to remember names, not just events. That could have been me burned at the stake due to the transgressions of greedy selfish patriarchs vying to improve their social standing in the meetinghouse by implanting fear in the community. Some cry wolf, some cry whore. "Hold fast the stone". The preachers and jury members took children, wifes, fathers, land, herds, poultry and justice fees from their neighbors by pointing a finger and crying heretic. Love thy neighbor, but usurp his land in the name of politics. Libertarians, Quakers, Puritans, those loyal to the Crown of England... Life, liberty and the pursuit of one's happiness. God bless and God judge.


My fav. passage from the book is: "It is often at sunset that the vital protective channels of the body are at their lowest. A fever will rise, a woman with child will ready herself for labor, the spirit will darken with the shadows and weaken. It was at such a time that I felt overcome by my guilt and poures out my confession to Margaret. "I have killed my own mother"... "I am my mother's daughter", Sarah said. Every daughter must psychologically kill her mother when her own mind strives to emerge from the shadows, just to find that at the end of the day she is just like her mother. But when the communities of Andover, Salem Village (Danvers), Salem Farmes (Peabody), Salem, Billerica, Amesbury, Reading, Topsfield, Marblehead and Rowley slipped into darkness and hysteria it was girl against girl, woman against woman, reputation against reputation. The weapon was gossip. The power of the tongue. I remember my own struggles in Massachussetts against the evils of gossip. I have burned and been burned. The cruelty of women. Kathleen Kent, the author, is the grandaughter of Sarah Carrier's mother Martha 9 generations back, who was hung as a result of her trials. Kathleen is still dealing with the far reaching reprecussions of gossip and unfounded suspicious accusations.

I always associate New England with autumn and ironically I am here in Sussex County England in autumn. In England the rivers don't have American Indian names, but as I drove by the thatched roof tile houses, ponds, townhouses and churches; and strolled the beacon hills and valleys of Sussex County- I could smell the autumn leaves and almost see horse pulled carts with wide brim hatted and caped men, women in frocks and aprons and snot nosed kids. I wondered if in the mid 1600's it was a community that baked bread for their neighbors, but kept a close eye on their purity of their faith and politics as well as the success of their fields. I picture the rough woven fabric of the unbleached flags handstitched with blue and red cloth strips of both counties. Was it a mirror of New England's Marys, Marthas, Margarets and Sarahs, Richards and Thomases; full of hard field work, righteousness, pride, condemnation and communal paranoia?

Saturday, September 12, 2009

Blue waters and yarn, i.e sharks and cardigans

Last Wednesday, we went to the retro Bio-Rex movie theater in Helsinki (that's the Finnish Parliament building seen through the window) for a Save the Sea movie festival...
we saw http://www.sharkwater.com/ , a documentary about the impact of the shark finning industry on the shark popultation, which is vital to the ecology of the ocean and therefore the oxygen we breathe. On the site you can see the documentary and facts about sharks. Mui intressante!
On the needles: http://www.ravelry.com/projects/Tiriki/girls-short-sleeve-petrol-cardi
A girl's short-sleeve knit cardigan size 10-13yrs. Perfect for walking to school in the early autumn. The "Alfa" yarn is a bulky 12 ply wool and mohair mix by the Norweigian SandesGarn company. I chose Petrol/Teal instead of Old Rose, which doesn't seem to be a very good color for most Finnish complexions. The pattern isn't in Ravelry and I haven't found anyone else making this project, so I having been able to compare thoughts on this project, but it seems easy so far... although I'm only 1/3 through with the collar. The pattern is #20 Roosa jakku, out of the 4/09 issue of Kauneimmat Käsityöt (by Irja Mäkinen?).

Sunday, September 6, 2009

Nightie night, Ida


And the elfin said to the big red frog, "But I'm so very small and my feet are cold".
The frog said, "Now there, where have you spent your night?".
The elfin felt like between now and last night, she had lived through too many adventures to remember... "I spent the night in a crystal, full of streams of light, able to see really far."
"Did you see all the way to my swamp house?", asked the frog.
What a strange question, thought the elfin, why would she want to watch half-hibernating frogs in the dark marsh by the pond? "I saw much further", answered the elfin, "I saw the world unfold in cycles of prism light, sprouting and withering. Time seemed to move really fast, but stand completely still. I saw past friends and friends waiting for the pleasure of acquaintance."
The frog felt like she had known this curious little elfin for a very long time, but just realized that these were the first moments they'd actually shared. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

"How warm I feel", smiled the little elfin.

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The Endangered Madagascar Tomato Frog (zoo pic.)
Secret weapon: gum
The females are bigger and brighter than the males, boo-yeah,
the juveniles are dull in color and develop brighter coloration as they mature

... looks like she's grinning, maybe she reached sexual maturity?
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Things to do at night in Helsinki

1. Jump on a boat and go to the Helsinki Zoo





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2. Light a torch and dance



3. Go ocean gazing

September nights

In the summer, days seem important... what'd you do for lunch? which beach did you go to?
As the summer sun packs her bags for Bali and the chill seeps up from the ground, creating fog in pastures to be seen in the mornings on the way to work, night time activities become a main focus. Mostly because, unlike in the summer, work takes up all my days. Now it's all: which dance class did I go to tonight? What should I make for dinner tonight? Which boardgame, knitting project, book should I bust out tonight? I have stocked up on books and knitting projects, like I'm expecting not to make it out of the house for 8 months. Dear Mary, Gaia and Tara, another 10 months until summer again!!! I feel myself slowly going into conservation mode. Whereas summer is a free flowing, energetic time, one must take precautions for the Artic Winter. She is a tough master- dark, cynical, persistent, demanding. Inspiration doesn't flow in through sun soaked skin, one must rumage through internal organs and corners of the psyche. I find myself thinking thoughts like, this time she will not break my spirit. I'm dreaming of erotic places and interests like Harems and silver lanterns in Istanbul and Buddhist retreats and chimes in Nepal, Printed cloth and white beaches in West Africa.
Light a candle and step out into the night...