IT'S ADVENT ALREADY!

WHAT WAS MARY TO THINK? WHAT WOULD YOU THINK

“If I had been the Virgin Mary I would have said ‘No.’” – Margaret “Stevie” Smith (1902-1971)

 

No!

Get out of my dreams!

I am betrothed

but he has not forced

himself on me nor asked

me to lie with him.

What would he think

if I told him an angel

came in a dream

and asked me to make

a baby without him?

Oh, no. My parents would send

me away and the neighbors

might flog me. Oh, no, I don’t

even know how this “holy spirit”

 thing would get inside me.

Besides, I’m a sinner; I think

unholy things and sometimes

act on them. I wish, oh how I wish

I knew why

this angel chose me.

I dare not tell Mother.

I’ll visit Aunt Elizabeth

and see what she makes of it:

What does” highly favored” mean?

“Oh, child, if you have the same dream

tonight, be sure and respond willingly.

God has something good in mind.”

So I screwed up my courage

and prayed to Jehovah for guidance.

Sure enough, the angel came back.

“For you are highly favored by God

and you are on earth most blest.

 “Fear not, for God is with you

And you shall bear a child.

His name shall be called Jesus,

God’s offspring from on high.

And he shall reign forever.”

But I'm not yet a wife!

The angel had an answer:

“The power of the Most High

will come upon you soon.

Your child will be God’s child.”

Again, I wondered at his words,

remembered Aunt Elizabeth’s

advice and answered.

I am your lowly handmaid.

So be it, I am ready,

according to your word.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 [--Parts of this poem are adapted from Gracia Grindal’s hymn “To A Maid Engaged to Joseph"]

c 2016 PL

Before Christmas sets in, one more "thanksgiving" list

                A poet friend in Mountain Home has shared on Facebook all during this month a daily “Gratitude” event/ situation/ epiphany.

I wrote a poem some time ago about being thankful for things beginning with each letter of the alphabet. Let me do the same thing for today’s world/ nation/ state/ county/ community/ home.

A – America, of course, the first word that comes to mind. Even with the recent “-phobias” planted and reaped by the presidential campaign, Americans must act out of a love for country and all who dwell therein.
B – Bees, for without them, experts say, our food supply may dwindle into nothing we’ve even thought about.
C – Coffee and all things related to growing, picking, packing and shipping. I think I need it daily.
D – Dictionaries, one of which I turn to a page per letter skimming until I find something I’m thankful for. I’m thankful to BBF Dot for giving me the one I’m using now.
E – Environment: air, water, earth, climate. May we be thankful enough to guard it wisely.
F – Flowers, easy to grow, pleasing to the eye and to the environment, examples of dying only to live again in another time.
G – Good Samaritans who see needs and attends to them with no thought of recompense.
H – Hope—sometimes the only thing that seems to be left in certain situations of illness, death, destruction, obstruction.
I – Introspection, looking inward, naming emotions, wondering about things.
J – Jocularity—joking; full of fun – A phrase often used by our choir director, as in “Too much jocularity!” when we get off task.
K – kinfolk or kinfolks—cherished family, relatives, special friends--especially during Thanksgiving.
L – Linemen who keep our electricity flowing during stints of bad weather.
M – Microwaves, which save time and effort. I parch raw peanuts in mine, one layer deep, using a Pampered Chef baker (dish) for four minutes and 15 seconds.
N – Nature, in all its meanings, especially the physical universe and its forces.
O – Oxygen, especially bottled oxygen for those with breathing issues, like JaJo and Bill.
P – Police officers, including a grandson. Oh, Lord, keep watch over them during these tumultuous days.
Q – Quests: may we always be on one or another.
R – Renewal—in all ways possible: personal, national, natural resources, recycling.
S – Seasons of the year: spring, summer, fall, winter, each with its own story and glory.
T – Traditions, such as Thanksgiving get-togethers and the first day of Christmas sales.U – Unity—something to strive toward in matters of importance
V – Vision to see beyond our own narrow interests to those of the larger community.
W -- Writers, poets and philosophers who share their experiences with the rest of us.
X – X-rays. They might discover problems that can be treated.
Y – Yesterdays and the thoughts thereof that sometimes force us into something better.
Z – Zinnias, those colorful annuals that defy death until the deadliest freeze.

Happy Thanksgiving. Giving thanks happily. Thanks for giving happily.

               

What if?

   Let’s relax a little from all the turmoil and emotions surrounding both the election and memories of Veterans Day.

What if . . . President-Elect Trump, after the first week in office, decided he really didn’t want the job, the position, the restrictions of the office, the constrictions of expectations, to have to live in the White House EVERY day, so he resigned? Vice-President Pence became Mr. President and what if he soon nominated Mr. Trump to the Supreme Court?

Okay, I thought that up while waiting for the sandman. Don’t expect any more prognostications like this from me. So, I go looking for other “what ifs.” I e-mail my California brother if he has any; he’ll get back to me, he says. And he did: “[Once] while sitting in a darkened concert hall listening to the philharmonic playing a Brahms symphony, I noticed in the violins what looked like Mom.  My mind began to wonder ‘what if’ instead of marriage and family for her, she had pursued a creative career?” I’ve lately wondered about too.

Robert Byrne’s The 2,548 Best Things Anybody Ever Said fit the bill, when I add “What if” to the quotes he gives. Here are a few:

(What) “[i]f I had been present at creation [?] I would have given some useful hints.” –Alfonso the Wise (1221-1284)

(What if) “[m]an is a god in ruins[?]” – Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882)

(What) [i]f I had been the Virgin Mary [?] I would have said ‘No.’” – Margaret “Stevie” Smith (1902-1971)

(What if) “[l]iving with a saint is more grueling than being one[?]” –Robert Neville

(What if), “[u]nder certain circumstances, profanity provided a relief denied even to prayer[?]”—Mark Twain (1835—1910)

(What if) “[life is like an overlong drama through which we sit being nagged by the vague memories of having read the reviews[?]” – John Updike

(What if) “[t]here is more to life than increasing its speed[?]” – Mahatma Gandhi (1869-1948)

(What if) [d]eath is nature’s way of saying ‘Howdy’” [?] – Unknown

(What if) “[f]or three days after death, hair and fingernails continue to grow, but phone calls taper off[?]” – Johnny Carson

(What if) “[t]he writing of more than 75 poems in any fiscal year should be punishable by a fine of $500[?]” – Ed Sanders

(What if) “[t]he human mind treat[ed] a new idea the way the body treats a strange protein; it rejects it[?]” –Biologist P. B. Medawar (1915—1985)

(What if) [w]it is educated insolence[?]”— Aristotle (384—322 B. C.)

(What if) “[l]ike all self-made men, he worships his creator[?]” – Unknown

(What if) “[a] vegetarian is a person who won’t eat anything that can have children[?]” – David Brenner

(What if) “[t]he reason husbands and wives do not understand each other is because they belong to different sexes[?]” – Dorothy Dix (1870 – 1951)

(What if) “[t]he reason grandparents and grandchildren get along so well is that they have a common enemy[?]”—Sam Levenson (1911 – 1980)

(What if) “[l]ove is a grave mental disease[?]” – Plato (427? – 348? B.C.)

(What if) “[a]n archeologist is the best husband a woman can have[?] [T]he older she gets, the more interested he is in her.” – Agatha Christie (1891-1976), who was married to one

(What if) “[i]t is better to be a coward for a minute than dead for the rest of your life[?]” – Irish proverb)

OKAY, that’s enough levity for one reading. But there’s more where these came from.

c 2016 by PL d.b.a. lovepat press 

Veterans Day week's celebrations

                Only poetry sufficed for me as we celebrated Veteran’s Day again. I pulled down an anthology of poems for men, The Rag and Bone Shop of the Heart, that my son had given me for Christmas sixteen years ago. Section three was titled “War.”

                I read through all those poems and decided on “Naming of Parts” from LESSONS OF THE WAR by Henry Reed. The poem seems to be saying, “Look, fellows, even though it’s spring and we’d rather be anyplace else but here, we have our instructions. We have our duties. We are preparing for war.”

NAMING OF PARTS – Henry Reed             

“Today we have naming of parts. Yesterday, / We had daily cleaning. And tomorrow morning, / We shall have what to do after firing. But today, / Today we have naming of parts. Japonica/ Glistens like coral in all of the neighboring gardens, / And today we have naming of parts. //

                “This is the lower sling swivel. And this/ Is the upper sling swivel, whose use you will see, / When you are given your slings. And this is the piling swivel, / Which in your case you have not got. The branches/ Hold in the gardens their silent, eloquent gestures, / Which in our case we have not got. //

                “This is the safety-catch, which is always released/ With an easy flick of the thumb. And please do not let me/ See anyone using his finger. You can do it quite easy/ If you have any strength in your thumb. The blossoms/ Are fragile and motionless, never letting anyone see/ Any of them using their finger. //

                “And this you can see is the bolt. The purpose of this/ Is to open the breech, as you see. We can slide it/ Rapidly backwards and forwards: we call this/ Easing the spring. And rapidly backwards and forwards/ The early bees are assaulting and fumbling the flowers: They call it easing the Spring. //

                “They call it easing the Spring: it is perfectly Way/ If you have any strength in your thumb: like the bolt, / And the breech, and the cocking-piece, and the point of/ balance. / Which in our case we have not got; and the almond-blossom/ Silent in all of the gardens and the bees going backwards and/ forwards/ For today we have naming of parts. ///

                Henry Reed was born in February 1914 and died December 1986. He was a British poet, translator, radio dramatist and journalist. He was called up to the Army in 1941, spending most of the war as a Japanese translator. Although he had studied French and Italian at university and taught himself Greek at school, Reed did not take to Japanese, perhaps because he had learned an almost entirely military vocabulary.            

Reed's most famous poetry is Lessons of the War, a collection of poems that are witty parodies of British army basic training during World War II, which suffered from a lack of equipment at that time.

Once again in the mountains –no, in the valleys, she said

Mailbox at 505, the Usonian house that's now part of the campus

                Last week was my bi-annual trip/ trek to Eureka Springs for two reasons: one, a poetry sub-group meeting and a chance to continue work on my latest book, a memoir, “When I Had Another Name” or “Edging Past Eighty.”

                The Wednesday night dinner--a gourmet meal--included lentil soup, curly endive salad, mashed potatoes, ham slices, baked Brussel sprouts and a sweet potato-squash-mushroom galette. Dessert was pear torte.

                Five writers and one Writers Colony at Dairy Hollow board member partook of the food and—uncharacteristically for me, at least—sat around the table until 8:00 discussing subjects de jour.

                Elise was the board member. She owns both Basin Park and Crescent hotels. She sponsored one of the scholarships that Alia, from Richmond, Virginia, received and who was in residence. Elise’s the one who told us the geographical history of Eureka Springs. It used to be an ocean, she said. When the water receded, it took the soluble rocks with it leaving terrain characterized by barren, rocky ground, caves, sinkholes, underground rivers, and the absence of surface streams.

            The other writers’ homes spanned the width of the country: from San Francisco through Cincinnati, and to New York. I was the lone Arkansan. But I added my two-cents worth to the conversations, believe me (to quote a man-too-much-in-the-news). Being the eldest of the group didn’t stop me. The next-eldest told us she was the same age as Hillary.

                Thursday was spent in my suite revising the latest submission from the writers group at home––the third section of the memoir that takes me through junior high school. I also read some from the book I brought with me, Hemingway vs. Fitzgerald. And I napped.

                Thursday night was the monthly meeting of Poetluck—a potluck meal followed by readings from the Colony residents first, then from the local and area attendees. One unusual “pot” was purple sweet potatoes brought by a couple who live on Bohannon Mountain in Marshall and who grew them on their acreage. I read “Ash Wednesday” from Hiding Myself Into Safety. Later, someone asked me if I were a preacher.

                Friday noon, friend Vicki picked me up. In her VW, we crawled through the busyness of downtown out to Hwy 62 to La Familia. We had a great, needed catch-up meeting over lunch.

By Friday night, Anne Marie from near St. Louis, had joined the group. Baked chicken with roasted cut fennel bulbs, green salad, rice, and a medley of veggies comprised the meal. Dessert was tea cookies. We sat around the table afterwards, discussing various topics until 8:30!

Saturday morning, a Facebook friend, Dan, from a town nearby, dropped by for a first-ever, face-to-face visit. And eventually coffee in 505, since I didn’t have sense enough to figure out how to program the high-falutin’ coffee machine in the Main House. Dan writes a column in the Eureka Springs Independent, so I asked him to autograph my copy. We had a great time. First time I’d ever hugged a man whom I’d never seen before!

At 80, how many more ops to hug handsome men will I have? Huh? Huh?