John Williams

For over one hundred years, children of all ages have been captivated by the fantasy of Peter Pan and the world of Neverland.  Generation after generation has continued to keep the dream alive with various adaptions of the story on both stage and screen.  Today, one hundred and seven years after James Barrie first introduced Peter Pan to the world on stage, one of the most popular versions of the beloved story is the 1991 film Hook.  Hook is not the typical Peter Pan story about the boy who did not want to grow up.  Instead, Hook presents to us the sequel; the part after Peter has, in fact, grown up and forgotten about Neverland… But finds his way back in order to rescue his children who were kidnapped by Captain James Hook.  Telling the story along with Robin Williams and Dustin Hoffman (the leading actors) is John Williams.  Few people associate the name “John Williams” with the movie, but John Williams had as much to do with Hook as James Barrie.  John Williams is the creator of the unforgettable music that tells the story of a man who has forgotten who he is, and draws us in so that we may accompany him on his journey back to Neverland.

The music that John Williams created for this movie perfectly captures the essence of the story.  Each song was written in such a way that the music on its own tells the same story that is being acted out.  A perfect example of this is the song “Banning Back Home.”  This song is played towards the beginning of the movie while Peter Banning (Peter Pan) is shown in an extremely busy setting at his office and then franticly trying to leave once he realized he was late for his son’s baseball game.  The song has a jazz style and as such it portrays not only Banning’s rush to the game but also the modern world in which the movie opens.  The jazz style of “Banning Back Home” contrasts the rest of the score, which is orchestration that illustrates the dreamlike sense of an adventure to a world beyond the third star to the right and straight on ‘till morning.

The orchestral adventure begins in the song “The Arrival of Tink/Flight to Neverland” when Tink comes to whisk Peter off to Neverland.  The song begins with the violins and double basses creating a sense of urgency while the woodwinds and harp reflect Peter as he aimlessly meanders through the room.  The music gradually changes and the violins strike single high notes to reflect the flight of Tinker Bell as she approaches the window.  The music goes on to illustrate the conflict between Peter and the “Firefly from hell,” as he refers to her.  After the struggle passes, and the music softens, it crescendos to a new melody that flows smoothly and contrasts the tension of the previous portion.  The new melody is carefree and majestic; it demonstrates the thrill of being swept away to a world of dreams.

Such a brilliant and beautiful marriage between story and song is evidence of John Williams’ talent and genius.  He has written the score for numerous movies and each one emanates the same exquisite mastery.  His music has delighted the hearts of the young and old for more than four decades.  As John Barrie’s stories captivate the imagination, likewise, John Williams’ music engulfs the heart and enthralls the soul.

For those of you who are unaware of this tidbit, I hate Math.  I tried to make it work but Math and I never clicked; we lacked the chemistry, pun intended.  For some unknown reason, at an early age I developed the misconception that I would have to take a ton of Math classes if I wanted to get a degree in something fun (i.e. History or English).

So that misconception, combined with my dysfunctional relationship with Math, is the reason I decided at a young age that college was not for me.  When I was a kid, I used to assure my Grandmother that I would someday spend my savings on a car because I was so certain that I would never attend college.  So I had created a roadblock.  However, that roadblock did not keep me from the enjoyment of learning other subjects.

I am ashamed to say that prior to the seventh grade I did not care for History very much.  The only thing pertaining to History that I was interested in was a somewhat fictitious diary of Elizabeth Tudor; aside from that, I considered the rest to be uninteresting and irrelevant.

Thankfully though, I was eventually rescued from that narrow mindset.  I became a History nerd after taking seventh and tenth grade History with Mr. Duby.  Mr. Duby completely changed my perspective on History.  I went from thinking it was irrelevant and insignificant to seeing it as the most significant and important of subjects.  Mr. Duby won me over to the realm of the nerds and I have never considered returning to the land of normal people.

While spending my time in the land of the nerds, my interest in Literature and History continued to grow.  In the summer following my high school graduation I found myself retaking my English Lit. quizzes… for the fun of it.  So, obviously, my decision against college was not from lacking a desire to learn, but rather because the Math made it impossible.  Therefore, I made other plans.

It was probably around the same time I broke up with Math and dismissed college that I started entertaining the idea of growing up to be a wife with no particular profession aside from cooking and cleaning.  I cringe upon remembering how narrow my horizon was.  But last spring the sun came out and I my horizon began to change… in a good way.

Most of you, I am sure, are aware of a certain “change of plans” which came up last year; but for those of you who are not familiar with that portion of my story, let me put it this way: I was in a relationship, and then I was not.  This left me in a sticky situation because, of course, I could not go to college, and then suddenly my alternative was also not an option.  However, it was at that time that I was given the advice which led me to where I am today.  Uncle Rob told me that instead of wasting my time I should do what I love to do, which meant traveling and going to school!  So I did precisely that. I traveled to London, Paris, and Versailles, then came home and enrolled at VolState!

Last summer was extremely exciting for me because even with “all of that Math” still in the back of my mind, I was so thrilled to be enrolling in college and going back to school.  See? I am a nerd.

My original plan did not include a degree because I was going to avoid “all” of the “required” Math classes and only take the fun ones.  But that plan also changed.

Whether it was serendipity or a lucky break, I registered for the perfect first class with the right instructor.   Only a week into my second semester with Professor Kelley, I decided that I did not care how much Math would be involved, I was going to work for a degree!  I met with Professor Kelley to discuss declaring my major and come to find out… for an English and History major… there is only ONE Math class involved!  Had I known that, I would have jumped right in after high school!  I could have been almost done with my Associates by now!  Oh the pang at the thought of wasted time!  Though it is very frustrating to think of lost time, I cannot help but be glad for the way everything has worked out.  For had my time line been any different, had I not gotten the right teacher, the right classmates, the right adviser, I may not have stuck with it long enough to reach the point where I wanted a degree.

So that was in January, and since then my excitement has only increased.  However, I do have to admit that when I first made the decision to work for a degree I was a little discouraged upon thinking about how long it would take.  Looking at the next six to eight years seemed like it would be forever.  But thankfully, inspiration has a way of showing up whenever I need it.  A couple weeks after I made this decision it was time for the Olympics.  I was inspired by the stories of the figure skaters, their years of training and dedication; and their desire to get the gold, which motivated them to press forward.  It all inspired me to do the same, to be as determined as an Olympian, and I saw the degree as my gold.

One particular thing from the Olympics which provided quite a bit of inspiration was during Pang and Tong’s free skate.  Going into the free skate they were in fourth place.  For their free skate they skated to The Impossible Dream; and as they were finishing up a nearly perfect performance, Sandra Bezic (the skating analyst) made the comment: “It’s the ‘not so’ impossible dream.”

Something that has made my dream not so impossible is the advice and example of those around me.  When Dr. Pimentel says he believes I can do it, and sounds like he means it, I find it impossible for me to not believe it also.  When he recognized my nerdy enthusiasm for History and English and told me that he thought I should be in the Honors program, that provided all the encouragement and motivation I will need for acquiring my gold medal.

The only problem I face is in finding a way to show appreciation equal to what is deserved.  In the last couple weeks and months I have tried to imagine what I would say if I had the opportunity to give a speech at my graduation.  The possibility of that actually happening is very unlikely; but still, I have wondered what I would say.  Sure I could get up and give heartfelt “thank you’s” and give credit where it is due; but can words express appreciation?  How does an Olympic champion thank his or her trainer?  With a lifetime of “thank you’s”?  I have yet to figure it out.  But one thing I do know is that by the time I graduate with my M.A., I wont be any less grateful than I am today.

I am certain that as I walk up to get my gold medal I will be thinking of Uncle Rob; Professor Kelley, my first college instructor; Professor Eades and Dr. Pimentel, directors of the Honors Program; and my Mom, who is going to help Math and I rebuild our relationship.  In their own ways, each of these people have made my dream “not so” impossible.

Post Script: Since writing the above, I have made a slight adjustment which should be added to this entry.  After taking philosophy classes with Dr. Hutton, I have discovered my deep interest in the field of philosophy and have decided to add it to my major.  In the last year Dr. Hutton has provided a great deal of inspiration for me and has become an important example to whom I look.  To the above entry I felt it necessary to add that Dr. Hutton will most definitely be one of the persons to whom my endless appreciation will be directed, both on the day I reach my goal, and many days after.

My boat of life sails on a stormy sea, Ever there’s a wind in my sail,

-Mat. 14:24 The boat by this time was a long way from the land, beaten by the waves, for the wind was against them. And in the fourth watch of the night He came to them, walking on the sea. But when the disciples saw Him walking on the sea, they were terrified, and said, “It is a ghost!” and they cried out in fear.
Mk. 4:37 And a great windstorm arose, and the waves were breaking into the boat, so that the boat was already filling. And they woke Him and said to Him, “Master, do you not care that we are perishing?”

But I have a friend and He watches over me
When the breeze turns into a gale.

I know the Master of the wind,
And I know the Maker of the rain.
He can calm the storms, make the sun shine again.
I know the Master of the wind.

-Mat. 14:27 But immediately Jesus spoke to them, saying, “Take heart; it is I. Do not be afraid.”
-Mk. 4:39 And He awoke and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!“ And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm.

Sometimes I soar like an eagle to the sky
Among the peaks my soul can be found.
But an unexpected storm may drive me from my heights,
It can bring me low, but it never brings me down.

-Isa. 40:30-31 Even the youth shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall; but they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles, they shall run and not be weary, and they shall walk and not faint.

-1 Cor. 10:13 (Amplified) But God is faithful (to His Word and to His compassionate nature), and He can be trusted not to let you be tempted and tried and assayed beyond your ability and strength of resistance and power to endure, but with the temptation (or trial) He will always also provide the way out (the means of escape to a landing place), that you may be capable and strong and powerful to bear up under it patiently.

-Ps. 18:30 As for God, His way is perfect; the word of the LORD is proved; He is a buckler to all those that trust in Him.

18:32-33 It is God that equips me with strength, and makes my way perfect. He makes my feet like hinds’ feet, and sets me upon my high places.

-Phil. 4:6 Fret not about anything, but in everything, by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known unto God. 4:7 And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.

The song is something from Handel’s Water Music (eh don’t let that scare you away, it’s not that bad). The first thirteen photos are of Germany, towards the end there are a few of Cambridge mixed in, the last one is the Atlantic Ocean and the rest are London. Oh, and all of these are from February ’08.

Now to make up for that….. I was going to post Am I the Same Girl by Swing Out Sister but the video to Breakout is so hilariously British =D (you have to copy and paste the link because it was blocked from being embeded… gosh)

www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q99GdBdX4u4

Music: Unico Amore (Only Love) by Yanni, sung by Nathan Pacheco.

The train ride from London to Hatfield is such a picturesque one. As a fan, a writer, and a fellow lover of England it was quite an experience to see the countryside that Jane wrote about and loved so much. Riding from London to Hatfield was like traveling back in time. I felt as if I had been taken back to the 1800′s. As I sat there, staring out the window of the train, I imagined that at any moment I would steal a glimpse of Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley riding their steeds over the green English hills.

Hatfield was not only inspiring because of its role in literature but also for its Historical significance.  In order to tell you why Hatfield was so special to me for its Historical significance I must tell you about a book I read a long time ago. Sometime between the ages of 8 and 10 I read a somewhat fictional diary of Elizabeth I. It was based on true facts but written to interest younger girls. Since then Elizabeth I has been one of my favorite historical figures to study.

Now back to Hatfield… On the same property as Hatfield House, there also stands the remnants of the Old Palace, formerly called Hatfield Palace. It was the Old Palace that Henry VIII used as a home and school for his children, Mary, Elizabeth and Edward. Elizabeth spent much of her childhood at Hatfield and also lived there later in life during the reign of her sister Mary. Elizabeth was at the Old Palace when news was brought to her of her sister’s death; in other words, that she was the new queen.

….Ok let me try to make the rest of the story short.. In 1607 King James I traded the Old Palace and grounds to Robert Cecil (son of Elizabeth’s chief adviser) and it was Cecil who built the beautiful Hatfield House. Construction was completed in 1611 and unfortunately Cecil died in 1612, only enjoying his beautiful home for nearly a year. Hatfield House continued to be the home of Robert Cecil’s descendants, and has remained such for the past 400 years.

I was very disappointed when I was told that pictures were not allowed to be taken inside the house. It was so frustrating to see such beautiful things and not able to capture them. The library was one of my highlights… of the whole trip. It wasn’t nearly as big as the library on Beauty and the Beast but it didn’t have to be. There was something about it that made it so perfect, the ladders, the woodwork, the style of the furniture, perfect reading chairs, and of course the 10,000 books it contains.

For more details about Hatfield House and for pictures visit:

http://www.hatfield-house.co.uk/

But people are more important than places, that’s why it’s more shattering to part with them…

Bartley.. no that’s not it.. Brompton… Bennet… Brighton… Barnet! That’s it! Barnet is the name of the borough that I can never remember. If one were to travel to Barnet they would find a lovely church there. A Spirit led, gospel church. I was so blessed by the work that God is doing in London through Jonathan and Bridget. I felt right at home all the way over in Hatfield and Barnet, and also at the prayer meeting in Croyden.

I had such a wonderful time with Jonathan and Bridget and their kiddos. From the very beginning of our time with them I felt like I was with family, as if I had known them my whole life. I really enjoyed our late night doctrinal discussion our first night there They both said “some good things” that really helped me, I wish I would’ve taken notes… (they actually said a lot of good things, but the phrase “some good things” is a joke). I have a terrible memory and unless I write something down I can’t remember exactly what was said. But I remember at one point I could have cried because of something Jonathan said which spoke right to my heart, and was exactly what I needed to hear at the time. I so appreciated their words of encouragement.  Over the course of the time that I’ve been able to spend with them I feel like we’ve built a trust and a bond that will never be broken.

Last year I teared up when we left because I was sad to be leaving Europe. This time not only once again was I sad to be leaving Europe, but I cried because I was parting with family.

So this afternoon when I came to have a look at my electronic journal for the first time in a long time, I was inspired. I reread my post about the first part of our holiday to Europe and decided I should pick up where I left off. . . even if it does seem like my words are just drifting off into cyber space.

Okay. .  *sits back, stretches, extends arms forward and pops knuckles* let me see now. . Oh yes, Paris . . .

For years I’ve heard people say how awful Paris is, how it’s dirty and stinky and how rude the people are. So let me start this narration by saying that all of that… is not true! I don’t know what those people were talking about when they contaminated me with such preconceived ideas, maybe they were referring to Paris, Tennessee. The only place where this could have been slightly true about Paris being stinky was in a couple places in the Metro; but come on, what do you expect when you’re underground?

In spite of all the bad I had heard about Paris, I was still drawn to it and wanted to find out for myself. I had read so many articles and seen so many travel shows that all had wonderful things to say about Paris, how could these few rumors be true? So I traveled to Europe to prove some people wrong… well, not really… (I knew in my heart all along that they were wrong).

Paris was the most charming city I have ever visited. The best way I can describe Paris would be to say that in some ways it’s like London and Rome put together. In architecture it was very much a mix of the two. Paris has an older feel to it like Rome but also has the charm and elegance like that of London.

Walking the streets of Paris was like walking through the pages of an old History book, but that can also be said of most European cities. The uniqueness of Paris though is that it has a chic feel to it. That’s the word! If I had to describe Paris in two words I would say it is chicly Historical.

Something else that’s unique about Paris is that it’s the famous “city of love.” The whole time we were there I was humming La Vie en Rose.  Okay girls, you know that uncontrollable and overwhelmingly giddy feeling that comes over us when we spot a handsome guy or watch a chick flick? Well that’s how Paris made me feel. And no, believe it or not, I’m not referring to the gents walking the streets. Just looking up at the Eiffel Tower gave me that feeling. It was crazy, I don’t know what it was, it was like I had that butterfly twitterpated feeling… but for a city. Weird, I know.

At one point as I stood gazing up at the Eiffel Tower I promised myself that I would be back someday. I would return to the very spot where I was standing at that moment and I would be wearing a beret, I would have a beau to kiss and a camera with a charged battery (I threw that into the promise because I had forgotten my charger in London).

Paris was chicly and breathtakingly… magical. It’s a city with a spark, like fireworks or Irises. No wonder the Iris is the fleur de lis.

My ‘word count’ tells me that I’m already up to 640 words. Normally I would cut it off here because I don’t want to scare people off with an extremely long post; but hey, what the heck, I’m feeling inspired, I think I’ll continue. . .

Versailles *said with a big smile*. The Chateau de Versailles was amazing, breathtaking, and outstanding. It’s the kind of place that upon seeing it you stop dead in your tracks, your jaw drops, you become paralyzed as you stand there trying to take it all in; and it leaves you utterly flabbergasted, astonished, and speechless. At this point all I could say was “whoa.” Once the paralyzed phase was over, you would have thought I had seen George Clooney walk by… all I could do was laugh in disbelief and say “Oh. .my. .gosh”.

The Chateau was inspiringly rich with History. As I walked through the courtyard I was digging out all the files in my mind of all the things I had ever read that took place there. The first thing I thought of was my friend Alexandre Dumas. I pictured scenes from his novels The Three Musketeers and The Man in the Iron Mask. Then my mind went to the History file and I thought of the king who built the palace, King Louis XIV. I tried to remember as much French history as possible. I thought of Napoleon, Marie Antionette and the French Revolution.

I was dumbfounded by its grandeur and amazed at its beautiful ornate details. I would say, hands down, that the Chateau de Versailles definitely beats the Vatican.

I would like to continue but the hour is late, so once again I’ll have to save the rest for another post.

Au revoir!

I decided to take the tube to High Street Kensington because it didn’t look like it was very far from Kensington Park… but it was. It was about a five minute walk. So when we got to the park, instead of walking around and admiring the greenery, we crashed on a park bench. By this time we had been up for 24 hours and had walked a few miles. So mom fell asleep and I read Northanger Abby and guarded the backpacks. After resting for a while we decided to walk further into the park. Sitting by the Round Pond were two nice old ladies that let us share the bench with them and we had a lovely chat.

On our way back to the hotel we got three Pastys, one for mom and two for me : ) By the time we got back to the room it was only somewhere between 5 and 6. We were dying, I had been ready to crash since 2:00! So I watched Columbo and tried to keep my eyes open for as long as I could.

Thursday on our way to the Library we decided to pop into Harrods and say hello to Bridget. I was so happy to see her that I could have cried. While there, mom played a $150,000 piano, and I bought a guitar pick just to get a bag that said Harrods on it.

After checking out Harrods we headed to the Library so I could by a new journal to be the home of the written version of the next chapter in my life. Then on the way back to the underground we found a pub with great fish n chips. While there we had a nice chat with a local who told us about an awesome store on Oxford St.; so we decided to go there next… Word of the wise: never go to the Primark on Oxford St. in the afternoon. It was worse than Disneyland on the biggest holiday of the year, or the grocery store the night before Thanksgiving when everyone is out at the same time buying their pickles and olives. (Ironically, later that night we discovered that there was a Primark on the same street as our hotel, and it was much less crowded.)

After barely making it out of Primark alive we spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in Hyde Park eating Caramel Slices and watching the local gentlemen play football (aka soccer in the US).

Most of the day Friday was spent shopping. Once we had worn ourselves out we found a West Cornwall Pasty Co. and ate in The Rose Garden at Hyde Park. It was a lovely setting with wooden benches surrounded by flowers and vines.

Friday night we took a bus ride through central London. Even though it was just a bus ride I enjoyed it so much. We drove through parts of London we hadn’t been before and ended up in a very familiar place. London by night is so beautiful with all of the building spotlights reflecting on the river.

On Saturday we joined up with our dear friends. We met Bridget at Harrods with all of our luggage, it was quite a site. So then we began our journey North with three heavy suitcases plus our hand bags. Crossed busy streets while lugging our cases and bags, mom stepped on glass, lots and lots of stairs, heated tunnels and trains in the underground crowded with the evening rush, it was quite an experience.

This was the first half of the holiday, I’ll save Paris and Hatfield for their own posts : )