/ Yeats
The Yale Whiffenpoofs sing William Butler Yeats’s Down By the Salley Gardens.
Christmas Greetings from the Ellsworths
Say Heav’nly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein
Afford a present to the Infant God?
Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain,
To welcome Him to this, his new abode…?
December 24, 2008
Dear Family and Friends,
The biggest news we have for you this year is that our eldest son, Evan Robert, was married May 31st to Kristin Signe Torok, the daughter of Andrew and Robin Torok of San Juan Capistrano, CA. Phil co-officiated the ceremony at All Saints Episcopal Church in Pasadena. All four of Kristin’s siblings and all three of Evan’s were involved in the wedding. Kristin gave Evan the wedding ring my mother had given my father, and which I’d worn for twenty-five years after he passed away in 1982. The reception was at the Jonathan Club in downtown Los Angeles. It was lovely—and what a party! Kristin and her parents planned everything to perfection. We enjoyed spending nearly a week in southern California and are thrilled for Evan and Kristin. It was also truly a pleasure to see so many of our relatives and friends at the wedding; guests flew in from at least four continents, including my brother Russ with Beth and Anna from Kenya. Even now, we often find ourselves reminiscing about how wonderful the fairy-tale wedding was.
I’m afraid that I have gotten a bit ahead of myself in talking about the wedding; I would like to tell you about how we came to know Kristin better. She spent weekends with us in our home in the fall of 2007 whilst she interned at the White House in the First Lady’s Press Office. We have all come to love her and are delighted to welcome her into our family.
Evan and Kristin were graduated from Wheaton College May 11th. The same day, Evan was commissioned a Second Lieutenant in the 82nd Airborne Division of the U. S. Army. He and Kristin spent this fall back in Wheaton while Evan worked as a Gold Bar Recruiter for the ROTC Department at Wheaton. From mid-January through the Spring, he will be at several Army bases around the country; and in the summer, he will deploy for a one-year tour in Iraq. Kristin finished up her law school applications in November and will begin the study of law in the fall.
Gabriel enjoyed being Evan’s Best Man in the wedding. Currently in his sophomore year at Yale, he served this past semester as the Chief Whip of the Tory Party in the Yale Political Union. He is the principal oboist in the Saybrook College Orchestra at Yale and he worships at Christ Church Episcopal, the Anglo-Catholic parish close to campus. A highlight this year for us was listening these past several days to Gabriel having domestic conversations in Japanese with his お祖母さん (grandmother). He has now completed three semesters of Japanese language study.
Gillian is in her senior year at St. Andrew’s Episcopal School in Potomac. She is graceful, lithe, and lovely. In the midst of her college applications, she is involved in school theatrical productions, AP Studio Art, and youth group at our parish, Saint Francis Episcopal Church. She has a heart for the Dayspring from on High, and I am confident that her tender spirit will guide her through her life. She and I have become close friends and enjoy reading together, walking with our dog, shopping, and baking. Gillian will be graduating from high school in June. And whither then? We cannot say.
Aaron, aged thirteen, has grown eight inches taller this year. He and I spend our days at Norwood School in Bethesda together, where he is in seventh grade. Aaron took up the viola a year ago and plays in my string ensemble. He also continues to play the piano, which he performed on Saturday at a local nursing home (I bring my students and children there every December to play carols and sing for the residents). Aaron loves sports, history, youth group, eating, and playing and relaxing with his dad. The poor boy wept uncontrollably at Evan’s wedding. Though he loves his new sister-in-law and is happy for Evan, the wedding signified a big change for him, as he and Evan have become best friends in the last few years.
We took our annual summer holiday in Harbor Springs, Michigan this July. Phil served again as the vicar of St. John’s Episcopal Church, a summer chapel there, for three Sundays. This was our sixth year in Harbor, and we are so grateful for the opportunity to relax there and for our Saint John’s friends. This year, we had the particular pleasure of spending part of our time there with Evan and Kristin and Andy and Robin Torok and their children! It’s always interesting having three thirteen-year-olds running around, especially since Aaron was born within an hour of twins Andrew and Ashley Torok.
In closing, I would like to convey something that Phil taught our friends at Saint Francis at the Adult Forum on Sunday. As we celebrate the Nativity of our Lord, I am astounded by the paradox that the Most High, who creates the universe by speaking a word, becomes an infant. For our word infancy comes from the Latin word infans, which literally means, “not speaking.” It may be entirely inappropriate for Milton to chide the muse as he does, and his competitiveness is unseemly, but he has our sympathies even so.
See how from far upon the Eastern road
The Star-led wizards haste with odors sweet:
O run, prevent them with thy humble ode,
And lay it lowly at his blessed feet.
The poet sees the magi bearing their gifts as they follow the Star of Bethlehem to the manger, and he (being Milton!) wants to beat them to the scene. So I wonder. If I could outrun the magi to lay words at the wordless one’s feet, what would they be? Words of thanksgiving. For him. And for you. For “Think where man’s glory most begins and ends, / And say my glory was I had such friends.”
Blessings,
Victoria Ellsworth (for Phil, Evan, Kristin, Gabriel, Gillian, Aaron, and dog Maddie)
O Blessed Lord Jesus, our choicest gift, our dearest guest; Let not our souls be busy inns that have no room for you and yours, but quiet homes of prayer and praise, where you may find the best company, where needful cares of life are wisely ordered and put away, and where wide, sweet spaces are kept for you. So when you come again, O Blessed One, may you find all things ready, and your servants waiting for no new master, but for one long loved and known. Even so, come, Lord Jesus.
John Milton, On the Morning of Christ’s Nativity, line 15.
On the Morning of Christ’s Nativity, line 22.
W. B. Yeats, The Municipal Gallery Revisited, lines 54-55.
Helen Vendler, the great teacher at Harvard (they have a few) lectures on WB Yeats’ poem. I post this now because the woman I get through the nights with and enter every new day beside begins another year today. She is a teacher, and the one to whom I recite, “When you are old and gray … “
When you are old and gray and full of sleep
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead,
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
But the great majority of professors understand that the art of teaching consists not only of arousing desire but of redirecting it toward its proper object, from the teacher to the thing taught. Teaching, Yeats said, is lighting a fire, not filling a bucket, and this is how it gets lit. The professor becomes the student’s muse, the figure to whom the labors of the semester —the studying, the speaking in class, the writing—are consecrated. The alert student understands this… . Natural transmission is easy; any animal can do it. Cultural transmission is hard; it takes a teacher. The teacher’s job, in Keats’s terms, is to point you through the vale of soul-making. We’re born once, into nature and into the culture that quickly becomes a second nature. But then, if we’re granted such grace, we’re born again. For what does it profit a man if he gains the whole world and loses his mortal soul?
