#WingedWordsWindsday: 2023/08/23 -- My Kindergarten Golden Jubilee! :)

 WINGED WORDS WINDSDAY

Compiled & Edited by Rob Chappell (@RHCLambengolmo)

Vol. 2, No. 43: August 23, 2023

 

 

50 Years Ago This Week…

 

The Editor’s Kindergarten Golden Jubilee:

1973-2023

                This week, I celebrate the 50^th anniversary of my entry into kindergarten with an essay about my elementary school days, an article about Johnny Appleseed, and some autumn-themed poems that evoke happy memories of my elementary school days. Careful readers will discern that there is an esoteric “golden chain” running through this week’s selections, connecting different points on my life’s timeline in surprising ways.

                I would like to thank my family for sending me to Lutheran day schools from kindergarten onward, where I acquired my lifelong love of learning. I would also like to thank my teachers, who encouraged me to read above and beyond our already-excellent Open Court reading curriculum. Last but not least, special thanks go out to my grad school soul-friend, A.L.A., for introducing me to the inspirational writings of Emanuel Swedenborg. (She had conducted an undergraduate research project on Swedenbog and had visited the Bryn Athyn Cathedral and the Swedenborg Foundation – both in her native Pennsylvania – to do onsite research.) Suggestions for further reading appear at the end of this week’s Golden Jubilee extravaganza!

                Before we begin, however, the Editor would like to state for the record that he is in full agreement with the following edict, issued by King Ashoka the Great, Emerpror of India (ca. 304-232 BCE), who was a significant early promoter of religius toleration.

 

                Beloved-of-the-Gods, King [Ashoka], honors both ascetics and the householders of all religions, and he honors them with gifts and honors of various kinds. But Beloved-of-the-Gods, King [Ashoka], does not value gifts and honors as much as he values this — that there should be growth in the essentials of all religions. Growth in essentials can be done in different ways, but all of them have as their root restraint in speech, that is, not praising one’s own religion, or condemning the religion of others without good cause. And if there is cause for criticism, it should be done in a mild way.

                But it is better to honor other religions for this reason: By so doing, one’s own religion benefits, and so do other religions, while doing otherwise harms one’s own religion and the religions of others. Whoever praises one’s own re-ligion, due to excessive devotion, and condemns others with the thought, “Let me glorify my own religion,” only harms one’s own religion.

                Therefore contact between religions is good. One should listen to and respect the doctrines professed by others. Beloved-of-the-Gods, King [Ashoka], desires that all should be well-learned in the good doctrines of other religions.

à Source: https://en.wikiquote.org

 

“Autumn Reflections”

By Rob Chappell, M.A.

(Adapted & Expanded from an Unpublished Article, Written in September 2009)

The Great Seal of Bethalto, Illinois, where the Editor attended Zion Lutheran School from 1973-1980. (Image Credit: Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons)

 

                In November 2005, during the University of Illinois’ Fall Break, I had the opportunity to revisit Zion Lutheran School, my elementary school in Bethalto, Illinois. Because of all the fond memories that I have associated with it, autumn was a wonderful time of year for me to revisit my first Alma Mater. I had a thoroughly delightful visit because I got to reconnect with a couple of my veteran teachers again, and also because the school was flourishing then even more so than when I was enrolled there in the 1970s.

                When I was growing up in suburban southwest Illinois, the autumn season was a time of great excitement and anticipation. Even though my summer months were filled with all the freedom and adventure that children longed for during the school year, returning to ZLS (as we affectionately called our school) in early autumn was always a pleasure because my school days were perennially edutaining. As our class moved up through the ranks from kindergarten through the sixth grade, we learned about the three R’s (along with the sciences and the arts) from teachers who sang, played the piano, and strummed their guitars (with plenty of songs by Peter, Paul, and Mary!).

                We had many activities to look forward to during the fall term. Field trips to the local apple orchard and pumpkin patch; stories and songs about Johnny Appleseed; trick-or-treating for UNICEF; classroom parties to celebrate various autumn holidays; the annual chili supper; and making crafts for the holiday bazaar all combined to create an atmosphere charged with youthful energy and enthusiasm. The brisk autumn breezes, the falling multicolored leaves, and foreshortened daylight hours only added to the numinosity of the season.

                Everyone’s favorite part of the school day was the story time in early afternoon. After we had finished lunch and played outside in the autumn sunshine during the noon recess, our teachers would read aloud to us from classic children’s books by L. Frank Baum, Astrid Lindgren, Laura Ingalls Wilder, and many more. During the fall term, our teachers also gave us proverbs to memorize and poems to recite. One such poem that we learned has remained a favorite of mine through the years:

 

“Leaves” (Anonymous)

 

The leaves had a wonderful frolic.

They danced to the wind’s loud song.

They whirled, and they floated, and scampered.

They circled and flew along.

 

The Moon saw the little leaves dancing.

Each looked like a small brown bird.

The Man in the Moon smiled and listened,

And this is the song he heard.

 

“The North Wind is calling, is calling,

And we must whirl round and round,

And then, when our dancing is ended,

We’ll make a warm quilt for the ground.”

 

                To conclude, here’s a favorite song from my elementary school days, which my classmates and I enjoyed singing in the fall of the year. It was prominently featured in several episodes of Little House in the Prairie, one of the most popular TV series of the 1970s – and a fan favorite at ZLS!

 

“Bringing in the Sheaves”

By Knowles Shaw (1834-1878)

"He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him." à Psalm 126:6 (KJV)

 

1. Sowing in the morning, sowing seeds of kindness,

Sowing in the noontide and the dewy eve;

Waiting for the harvest, and the time of reaping,

We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.

 

Refrain:

Bringing in the sheaves, bringing in the sheaves,

We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves,

Bringing in the sheaves, bringing in the sheaves,

We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.

 

2. Sowing in the sunshine, sowing in the shadows,

Fearing neither clouds nor winter's chilling breeze;

By and by the harvest, and the labor ended,

We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.

 

(Refrain)

 

3. Going forth with weeping, sowing for the Master,

Though the loss sustained our spirit often grieves;

When our weeping's over, He will bid us welcome,

We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.

 

(Refrain)

 

“Johnny Appleseed: Pioneer Nurseryman”

By Rob Chappell, M.A.

Adapted and Expanded from Cursus Honorum VI: 3 (October 2005)

                Ever since my kindergarten class took a field trip to a local apple orchard in September 1973, I’ve been a perennial fan of Johnny Appleseed. The pioneer hero who headed west from his New England home to bring apple trees to the pioneers (and Native Americans) captured my imagination at an early age and has never let it go. Johnny has many exemplary lessons to teach up-and-coming leaders of today. Venturing outside your comfort zone to explore what lies beyond the horizon, building bridges of peace and understanding through generosity, and promoting self-sufficiency in harmony with sustainable growth are just a few of the gems that we can glean from learning about Johnny and his life story. Just like Johnny, our leaders can become trailblazers, peacemakers, and philanthropists – and our need for these types of people only grows with each passing year, as our global civilization continues to expand and grow in new and unexpected ways.

                Johnny Appleseed, one of America’s most beloved homegrown heroes, has been the subject of countless poems, folksongs, novels, plays, and even a Walt Disney cartoon. Johnny’s appeal has vastly increased over the past fifty years, concurrent with the emergence of global concern over rampant deforestation and the drive to develop sustainable agriculture on a worldwide scale. Behind the larger-than-life legend of Johnny Appleseed, however, there was once an admirable historical person: John Chapman, a pioneer nurseryman from New England.

 

This woodcut of John Chapman appeared in Howe’s Historical Collections of Ohio (Ohio Centennial Edition, 1903). (Image Credit: Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons)

                John Chapman was born on September 26, 1774, near Leominster, Massachusetts. Details of his childhood are sketchy, but he learned to read and write at an early age and evidently chose to follow an arboricultural career in his teens, for by the time he was 25, he had already planted apple orchards in the western counties of New York and Pennsylvania. During the early 1800s, he pushed farther west into Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois – planting apple trees all over the wilderness, where they could be enjoyed by the arriving settlers.

                Wherever he journeyed on the frontier, Chapman earned the respect and trust of the Native Americans and coexisted peacefully with the wild animals. He practiced vegetarianism, never carried a weapon of any kind, and was by all accounts an amiable and hard-working person. Although he led a solitary life in the wilderness for weeks or months at a time, he enjoyed interacting with the people who crossed his path and regaling them with stories of his frontier adventures. It is estimated that he planted millions of apple seeds during his fifty years of arboricultural activity; this was his lifelong philanthropic service to our country.

                 Johnny Appleseed, as he came to be known in his later years, reposed near Fort Wayne, Indiana, on March 11, 1845. His grave has become a historic site, as have other places where he once lived and labored. Descendants of his original apple trees can still be found throughout Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois, and his legacy of philanthropic arboriculture is still celebrated at annual Midwestern festivals, especially in the autumn, when apple cider is in season. His birthday – September 26th – is celebrated as Johnny Appleseed Day in schools and towns throughout the American Midwest, where he lived and worked for most of his adult life.

                 Johnny Appleseed’s popularity shows no sign of waning. He played many roles during his lifetime – nurseryman, peacemaker, pioneer, and storyteller. In our own time, he has come to represent such worthy causes as conservation, environmentalism, and sustainable agriculture. John Chapman will no doubt continue to inspire generations yet to come with his philanthropic life and trailblazing achievements that still benefit his fellow Americans two centuries after his labors first began.

 

Some Autumn Poems from My Elementary School Days

                Editor’s Note: Here are some poems from my elementary school days, which my classmates and I read in our wonderful Open Court reading textbooks, or else the teachers read them to us.

 

“Appleseed John”

By Lydia Maria Child (1802-1880)

 

Poor Johnny was bended well-nigh double

With years of toil, and care, and trouble;

But his large old heart still felt the need

Of doing for others some kindly deed.

 

"But what can I do?" old Johnny said:

"I who work so hard for daily bread?

It takes heaps of money to do much good;

I am far too poor to do as I would."

 

The old man sat thinking deeply a while,

Then over his features gleamed a smile,

And he clapped his hands with a boyish glee,

And said to himself: "There's a way for me!"

 

He worked, and he worked with might and main,

But no one knew the plan in his brain.

He took ripe apples in pay for chores,

And carefully cut from them all the cores.

 

He filled a bag full, then wandered away,

And no man saw him for many a day.

With knapsack over his shoulder slung,

He marched along, and whistled or sung.

 

He seemed to roam with no object in view,

Like one who had nothing on earth to do;

But, journeying thus o'er the prairies wide,

He paused now and then, and his bag untied.

 

With pointed cane deep holes he would bore,

And in every hole he placed a core;

Then covered them well, and left them there

In keeping of sunshine, rain, and air.

 

Sometimes for days he waded through grass,

And saw not a living creature pass,

But often, when sinking to sleep in the dark,

He heard the owls hoot and the prairie-dogs bark.

 

Sometimes an Indian of sturdy limb

Came striding along and walked with him;

And he who had food shared with the other,

As if he had met a hungry brother.

 

When the Indian saw how the bag was filled,

And looked at the holes that the white man drilled,

He thought to himself 't was a silly plan

To be planting seed for some future man.

 

Sometimes a log cabin came in view,

Where Johnny was sure to find jobs to do,

By which he gained stores of bread and meat,

And welcome rest for his weary feet.

 

He had full many a story to tell,

And goodly hymns that he sung right well;

He tossed up the babes, and joined the boys

In many a game full of fun and noise.

 

And he seemed so hearty, in work or play,

Men, women, and boys all urged him to stay;

But he always said: "I have something to do,

And I must go on to carry it through."

 

The boys, who were sure to follow him round,

Soon found what it was he put in the ground;

And so, as time passed and he traveled on,

Everyone called him "Old Appleseed John."

 

Whenever he'd used the whole of his store,

He went into cities and worked for more;

Then he marched back to the wilds again,

And planted seed on hill-side and plain.

 

In cities, some said the old man was crazy;

While others said he was only lazy;

But he took no notice of gibes and jeers,

He knew he was working for future years.

 

He knew that trees would soon abound

Where once a tree could not have been found;

That a flickering play of light and shade

Would dance and glimmer along the glade;

 

That blossoming sprays would form fair bowers,

And sprinkle the grass with rosy showers;

And the little seeds his hands had spread,

Would become ripe apples when he was dead.

 

So he kept on traveling far and wide,

Till his old limbs failed him, and he died.

He said at the last: "'Tis a comfort to feel

I've done good in the world, though not a great deal."

 

Weary travelers, journeying west,

In the shade of his trees find pleasant rest;

And they often start, with glad surprise,

At the rosy fruit that round them lies.

 

And if they inquire whence came such trees,

Where not a bough once swayed in the breeze,

The answer still comes, as they travel on:

"These trees were planted by Appleseed John."

 

Johnny Appleseed was a missionary for the Church of the New Jerusalem, a community of faith that was founded in the late 18^th century to carry on the legacy of the Swedish scientist and Lutheran  theologian, Emanual Swedenborg (1688-1772). The Bryn Athyn Cathedral (pictured above), located in Bryn Athyn, Pennsylvania, is the headquarters for the General Church of the New Jerusalem. (Photo Credit: Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons)

 

“The Church of the Lord is spread over all the globe, and is thus universal; and all those are in it who have lived in the good of charity in accordance with their religion.”

à Emanuel Swedenborg: De Caelo et Inferno (1758)

 

“September”

By Helen Hunt Jackson (1830-1885)

                Editor’s Note: “One day of one September I never can forget” is Thursday, September 7, 1995, on which I attended a meeting of the German Department’s scholarly society, the Fruchtbringende Gesellschaft, with my soul-friend, A.L.A. It was our first of many delightful adventures together.

 

The golden-rod is yellow;

The corn is turning brown;

The trees in apple orchards

With fruit are bending down.

 

The gentian’s bluest fringes

Are curling in the sun;

In dusty pods the milkweed

Its hidden silk has spun.

 

The sedges flaunt their harvest,

In every meadow nook;

And asters by the brook-side

Make asters in the brook.

 

From dewy lanes at morning

the grapes’ sweet odors rise;

At noon, the roads all flutter

With yellow butterflies.

 

By all these lovely tokens

September days are here,

With summer’s best of weather,

And autumn’s best of cheer.

 

But none of all this beauty

Which floods the earth and air

Is unto me the secret

Which makes September fair.

 

‘Tis a thing which I remember;

To name it thrills me yet:

One day of one September

I never can forget.

 

“Autumn”

By Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

 

The morns are meeker than they were,

The nuts are getting brown;

The berry's cheek is plumper,

The rose is out of town.

 

The maple wears a gayer scarf,

The field a scarlet gown.

Lest I should be old-fashioned,

I'll put a trinket on.

 

“October's Party”

By George Cooper (1840-1927)

 

October gave a party;

The leaves by hundreds came —

The Chestnuts, Oaks, and Maples,

And leaves of every name.

The Sunshine spread a carpet,

And everything was grand,

Miss Weather led the dancing,

Professor Wind the band.

 

The Chestnuts came in yellow,

The Oaks in crimson dressed;

The lovely Misses Maple

In scarlet looked their best;

All balanced to their partners,

And gaily fluttered by;

The sight was like a rainbow

New fallen from the sky.

 

Then, in the rustic hollow,

At hide-and-seek they played,

The party closed at sundown,

And everybody stayed.

Professor Wind played louder;

They flew along the ground;

And then the party ended

In jolly "hands around."

 

“Autumn Fires”

By Robert Louis Stevenson

 

In the other gardens

And all up the vale,

From the autumn bonfires

See the smoke trail!

 

Pleasant summer over

And all the summer flowers,

The red fire blazes,

The grey smoke towers.

 

Sing a song of seasons!

Something bright in all!

Flowers in the summer,

Fires in the fall!

 

Further Reading

·         https://disney.fandom.com/wiki/The_Lord_is_Good_to_Me à The “Johnny Appleseed Grace,” from the 1948 Disney film Melody Time, was sung by my kindergarten class every day at 10:00 AM to give thanks for our midmorning snack! 😊

·         https://ephratacloister.org à The Ephrata Cloister in Ephrata, Pennsylvania, was a Protestant monastic community that studied, taught, and lived out an inspiring, universalistic vision of the Christian kerygma, which was firmly grounded in the esoteric tradition expounded by Jakob Boehme (1575-1624), a visionary Lutheran theologian.

·         https://johnnyappleseedmuseum.org à The Johnny Appleseed Museum is located on the campus of Urbana University in Urbana, Ohio.

·         https://swedenborg.com à With headquarters in West Chester, Pennsylvania, the Swedenborg Foundation has been publishing inspirational books by and about Emanuel Swedenborg since 1849.

·         https://zlsbethalto.org à Zion Lutheran School in Bethalto, Illinois, founded in 1962, is the Editor’s first Alma Mater!

This is the title page of the Golden Chain of Homer, by Anton Josef Kirchweger (published in 1723), a German treatise on alchemy. It was one of the esoteric books conserved and studied by members of the Ephrata Cloister (see above). According to Plato, “By the golden chain, Homer meant nothing else than the Sun.” (Image Credit: Public Domain)