The anxieties and worries of the past few months bring me to wonder about another time of national crisis. In the early 1970s, there was war to worry about. And a draft. With three sons, two of them approaching the age to be called up, Mom and Dad must have been concerned beyond belief. We’d just moved to Fairfield, Connecticut. Richard Nixon was president. And Vietnam was on fire. Here are some of Mom’s raw war poems from that time:…
“The Hundred Acre Wood got floodier and floodier.” How lucky am I to have married a man who can quote Winnie the Pooh?! Farmer Gary and I were driving home after a wonderful weekend with James. Our youngest son lives exactly 250 miles from us, so it’s a bit of a haul, but always worthwhile. James cooked for us several times and took us to our first cat cafe. My favorite moment was just as we walked into the special…
Mom had a good friend named Ruth. She was a teacher and a writer. Once they met, they were friends for life. I’m pretty sure that’s who this poem is about, as apparently Ruth was 11 years older than Mom and passed away in 1996. Tribute I remember us both Ruthputting on perfumegirding for grace in the restless classroom This morning I anoint myself for gritin emptying our kitchen cabinetsI think of you posting my poemslike royal proclamations on your…
I’d like to share this poem Mom wrote in 1972. Usually, I try to find a family story to help introduce one of her poems, but not this time. Here’s what I know: Mom was 42 when she wrote this; we lived in Fairfield, Connecticut. Mom read like a fiend and never missed a chance to learn. Her reference to Erich Fromm is a mystery to me, but surely this poem was influenced by one of the psychoanalyst and philosopher’s…
Growing up, Thanksgiving was over the top. Turkeys weighed in at 25 or so pounds, and leftovers nearly burst the doors off the fridge. One year, I think it was 1976, Mom and I got the fancy idea to make chestnut stuffing for the turkey. I wish I could remember where we’d heard “chestnut stuffing” mentioned … in a book? A song? Either way, we decided it would be a fun mother-daughter project for Thanksgiving. I know it was not…
The little red diary from my moving-away party in June 1970 is only two-thirds complete. Our family was getting ready to move from Pittsfield, Mass., to Fairfield, Conn., that summer. That diary gave me – a 12-year-old middle child – a place to be excited as well as miserable. Fifty-four years later (ack!), the diary is sitting on a shelf here in our home. I’ve been tempted to pitch it for years. Last night, I decided to take a look…
It was close to midnight the other evening when I heard it. A train whistle. In the far-off distance. I love the sound of a train, especially at night. It’s so comforting. I asked my musical brother Dave if he knew exactly what chord the whistle plays. Here’s his reply: I’ve heard a lot of different chords from train whistles, but my favorite (which I’ve heard quite a bit) is a major chord with an added 6th, like F-A-C-D. The add-6 chord…
It’s such a great feeling to think of Mom so enjoying a new (to her) author that she just had to pause her reading to write a poem in tribute to him. Paul Horgan was a Pulitzer Prize-winning author (twice; both times for history) who leaped from genre to genre. From poetry and drama to novels and historical fiction, from biographies to children’s literature. Often his work centered around southwest America. I read one of his books last month, from…
Through the numerous writers’ conferences she participated in during the 1970s, Mom not only grew as a writer but also reaped many lasting friendships. During those four years in Indiana (1973-77) she befriended Madeleine L’Engle; Will & Dorothy Kennedy – two writers Mom introduced and proudly “married off”; and Vesle Fenstermaker (fantastic name!); to name just a few. Bill McTaggart belongs on that list, too. Bill McTaggart was a poet, an author, a librarian, and a tireless volunteer. Just how…
“Meat! Don’t you have any meat? I need meat!” An Indiana University football player hollered across the counter at me 45 years ago today. The poor fellow, and his beefy friends, were looking nervous as they made their way through the dorm cafeteria line and slowly realized the dinner menu was not quite as protein-laden as usual. That’s because we were under a state-wide “snow emergency” as three days of blizzard conditions (on top of previous snowfall) had closed the…