Where We Live

Let me tell you a little bit about where we live. First you’ve got to get here. If you’re coming from the southwest, down Watertown way, take 11B up through Canton and then go about twenty-six miles east of Potsdam. Then turn into the valley heading south on Route 5. Go about three miles into Dickinson Center. You’ll notice that the road steadily rises. As soon as you get into the hamlet, just past the abandoned church, there’s a big curve to the right. Don’t go that way, go straight up on Cemetery Street. Go past the cemetery, past a few houses and the road curves this way and that as it climbs the ridge. Down below on the right is the river and if it’s fall or winter or early spring you might get a glimpse. Some of the houses up this way are pretty rough. And the people can be as well.

Eventually the road goes to dirt and then you enter a pine forest and soon reach an intersection. Turn right at the intersection and head down towards the river. This is Church Street Road. Cross the rusty old one lane bridge and at the first big maple tree turn right just before the mail boxes. That’s our road. A little ways down is a row of spruce and just beyond that, on the right, is our humble place. It’s got new gray siding and a new roof. Turn into the half-circle driveway, get out and look around. Then come on around back because we’re usually back there if the weather is fair. We might be working on firewood piles or puttering around the yard. Or we might just be sitting in the screen house sipping on a beer and listening to the river roll by.

The river is right there on the edge of our yard, down about a twenty foot bank. You can get down there if you want but be careful, it’s pretty steep. If no one is running a chain saw or snow blower it’s a quiet place. Birds will be around because we keep a lot of feeders full. So when the sun comes up in the morning those little flyers will be your alarm clock whether you like it or not. However the coffee will be on and we tend to enjoy a nice breakfast most days.

After breakfast we can take a little hike. We’ll go to our right as we come out of the driveway, down the dirt road a little ways. Then when we come to a little unused road-cut into the left, just past a small stream heading through a big culvert, we’ll turn in towards the woods. Just up a ways we can go right, pass the abandoned quarry and head uphill towards the town quarry. There’s a road we can follow and we’ll go back in where they recently did some logging and stand at the edge of a huge pit. Look for deer or foxes here, they’re plentiful.

Then we’ll head up a little higher and follow the town road up to where it comes out on Church Street Road. We’ll cross over that one and head up Morray Road. There are a couple old hunting camps up this way and one house somebody lives in year around. It’s an uphill climb but pretty gradual. Up at the end of this road there’s an old logging track that goes straight ahead or, to the right, a rutted dirt lane into the forest.

But I’m done climbing so we’ll turn around and head back down the hill. When we get to the big road again we’ll go right and walk further downhill to the bridge. Maybe we’ll see some beaver or otters in the river. Maybe not. We’ll hang around the bridge and look at the fish and see how much wood those damn beavers have chopped down. By that time it’ll be close to lunch so we’ll go back to the house, grab a couple beers and go sit in the screen house. It might be a little early for beer but that’s okay, we’re thirsty. And nobody has to go to work yet.

Some days we go to town. When the weather’s bad we stay inside. We enjoy company but we’re comfortable on our own. We don’t watch TV very often, just the occasional movie. We read quite a lot. We write. We make some tasty meals. We think about lots of things and have conversations. It’s all good and it’s all part of where we live. 

Seven Decades Nearly Done

Two weeks from tomorrow I’ll reach one of those milestones on the path to doddering old age. Seventy! It’s hard to believe that I’ve lasted so long. Harder still to think I have most of my parts and they’re in reasonably fair working order. Not many cars can make that claim. And my maintenance schedule hasn’t been followed in a rigorous way either.

Lots of changes have happened in seventy years. Truman was president when I was born, Trump now; thirteen presidents in my lifetime. Of course I think some current members of the House and the Senate were in office when I was born. At least it seems like it. Politics is pretty nasty these days with a divided populace. Most folks think it’s worse now. But it probably isn’t. The scrutiny of public figures is certainly more intense. And with clever marketing a reality TV personality with a bunch of money and no experience in government can make it to the top. At least our previous actor in chief had worked his way up through some preparatory stepping stones. But I don’t want to talk about politics at this significant point in my life.

I’m an orphan now, along with my brothers and sister; a seventy year old orphan. I’m lucky to have avoided that status for so long. There’s a new nagging sense of loneliness that I struggle with these days.

But I’ve got five grandchildren now; three boys, two girls. That’s a special kind of gift for which I’m thankful. My oldest grandson will graduate from high school this year. We’re pretty good friends. And I get along with all of the others, though the newest little guy doesn’t really talk to me much. But he’s pretty new and I expect that’ll change. My daughters turned out just fine. They talk to me still. And their husbands are good fellows and even they will talk to me on occasion.

Family is important and I’ve been fortunate in that department. I can’t think of a family member, close or extended, that we aren’t talking to. (That was a challenge during this past election year) And we have a large clan. That feels like a good thing and I wish all families could say the same.

And this year my dear wife and I will celebrate our forty-eighth anniversary. She’s a strong and kind and patient woman. She’s very, very patient.

I’m still writing my little poems and I have a terrific group of friends who share this endeavor. My mentor, who has been helping me for several years now, is a kind and patient person. She’s very, very patient. This year I have a collaborative project going on with a couple artists. I’m preparing some work for submission to journals. And I’m assembling a new collection of poetry that I’ll be trying to get published sometime soon.

That’s enough of this reminiscing and sappiness. On to the next milestone! Folks say that time goes faster as we get older. I just checked my watch and the seconds and minutes seem to be moving at about the same pace as they always have so it must be another bit of folklore. My intention is to make good use of all the seconds and minutes and hours that I’ve got coming, whether they’re plentiful or not. So join me as I have a fine day.

The Old Man Talks Politics. Again

 Well friends and neighbors it has been a long time since I’ve done one of these scintillating blogs full of pithy observations and wise comments. Most of the time lately I’ve been writing bad poems and throwing them away. But today I decided to take a break from that kind of futility and spend some time on politics, a whole other kind of futility and frustration. So here are a few thoughts.

Why do our politicians running for office send out advertising that completely neglects to mention with which party they are affiliated? I’ve seen ads from folks running for offices ranging from county council to U.S. senate that have no elephant or donkey or whatever clever animal it is that has been adopted by the Green Party or the Libertarians. And shouldn’t they have an animal? Maybe a snowy owl or a dolphin for the Greens and perhaps a passenger pigeon for the Libertarians? The Green Party mascot would be obvious in its symbolism. The extinct passenger pigeon maybe not so much. Anyway, the lack of party identification in print ads is disturbing. Are the candidates so afraid of being offensive to one group or another? Or are they afraid of being prejudged in a stereotypical way? Well I say, show your party you cowards.

Social media is a great place to watch the furor over the presidential race. Normally kind and considerate folks on both sides of this one turn into rabid, raving zealots when they post comments about the two major candidates. A whole new level of hatred is reached almost every day. Name calling, accusations of crookery, allegations of insanity are pouring out in a steady stream. And this stream is not just aimed at the candidates but at their erstwhile supporters who may not be crooked or crazy in any way. And if a more calm individual points out that one of his friends is sounding vitriolic then the conversation dives into “Well I’m only posting this because so – and – so posted a really hateful thing about my gal/guy.” I guess the way to alleviate divisiveness is to add more fuel to the fires of silly arguments. Of course the true believers on both sides don’t think it’s silly at all, and they may be right. But they sure don’t sound rational when they get on their rants. There are rational discussions out there but they are buried in the heaps of craziness, so they’re hard to find.

Now I’m not too big a fan of either of the major party candidates. And when I tell my friends and acquaintances that I’m thinking of voting for one of the alternatives they begin their standard lecture. “If you vote for that third party gal/guy then you’re just going to help that horrible other gal/guy win, you freaking idiot!” Yes they call me an idiot. Again, I might be an idiot. Or naive. Or misguided, even. But friends I’m gonna vote the way my logical brain works. If I don’t think those big guns are the right one I’m not going to give either of them my vote. If the one that you think is the wrong one wins, well I’m awfully sorry.  But don’t blame me. Blame your own damn party for finding the worst possible candidate in the first place. Believe it or not there were actual reasonable possibilities out there when this whole shebang got started. And there just might be a reasonable choice still available in one of the non-major parties. So stop with the lectures please.

Finally, I have to weigh in on that “not standing for the anthem” brouhaha. This is another one of those “issues” that is driven more by the media than by its actual relevance in this deeply screwed up world. You probably don’t want to hear my position on this one. But you’ve come this far down the page so you might as well hear me out. Who cares if a bunch of football players don’t rise for the anthem? This is America, remember? Free speech. You do recall free speech, right? If those folks feel strongly about an issue and want to use this as way to protest it’s okay by me. They know the feelings they’re going to fire up with this behavior. They know the attention they’ll get. And you absolutely know that the media will exploit every tiny angle of this issue until, finally, it goes away. So be tolerant. If you don’t like the behavior don’t watch the damn game. If you think the guys are right then buy some tickets for the next game even if you think football is just violent ballet. Really. It’s that simple. And yes you can voice your displeasure on Facebook or Twitter no matter which side you’re displeased with. Have at it. This is America. But I won’t be reading your posts on the subject because I don’t really care about this one.

Now go have a fine, fine day.

Mass Obsessive Compulsive Zealotry: A Disorder for Our Times

 We are divided. Every event and every issue breeds predictable reaction. No compromise, no conversation, no mediation can bring the sides together. In fact no one is trying to bring people together. We all emphasize the differences and refuse to move from our positions. We all think we are absolutely, without a doubt, right. It’s insane.

Throughout history there have been instances of widespread insanity. They were labeled “Mass Hysteria”. I think we’re seeing an aberrant form of that aberration. I call it “Mass Obsessive Compulsive Zealotry” and it’s seen all over the world, especially the English speaking world.

Not only do folks refuse to consider compromise they take great pleasure in vilifying those who might disagree. I’ve heard good, kind people (usually) call their fellow citizens fools. idiots, a-holes, sinners, crazy and worse. And it’s not just Democrats talking about their Republican neighbors. Nope I’ve heard exactly the same epithets from the other side.

We’re a passionate people. We get worked up about issues large and small. Often we get the most worked up over the smallest issues which distracts us from the really important ones. But it doesn’t matter how big the issue. We’re divided. And there is no leader that seems to know how to bring people together in a quiet, reasoned way to find some sort of common ground. Discord happens over and over and we treat every issue the same way. Doesn’t the cliché go something like – insanity is repeating the same behavior over and over and expecting to get different results?

And I haven’t got a clue about how to fix anything. I look at the gun control issue and I see Mass Obsessive Compulsive Zealotry on both sides. No one wants to take a small step. All or nothing seems to be the mantra. There are numerous laws on the books restricting all kinds of weaponry. When was the last time you saw rigid enforcement of those laws? If we’re not enforcing laws we already have who could expect new laws to be effective? But it doesn’t matter about that. New laws aren’t going to be put up for a vote because there is no one leader who can effectively argue for common sense compromise. The leadership all is suffering from the same mental disorder.

How about issues of constitutional importance? There is a basic disagreement over whether the Constitution is a fixed document or a flexible document. Well the answer is actually quite simple. The Constitution has an established procedure for making changes. It’s called the Amendment Process. But no one has the patience to follow that. One side is rigidly denying any change. The other side is looking for ways to make changes without following the process. It happens over and over again. There is no one leader who will state that the obvious solution is right in front of us. “MOCZ” strikes again.

Every issue – immigration, equal rights, government spending, taxation, tattoos, marriage, and divorce – has polar opposite sides. No one gets near the middle. We scream, swear and demonstrate. We refuse to consider any possibility of finding a little common ground. We blame each other for intransigence. No leader ever emerges with a plan for compromise. But it doesn’t matter because that leader would be up against “MOCZ” and he or she would be shouted down before anyone could hear the plan. Sad, really sad.

Well, I’ve had my say. I’m interested in reading your comments. And I’ll do my damnedest to try and understand your position. Really I will. I’ve been in therapy and I think I’ve got the “MOCZ” under control these days. Not sure about my other phobias and disorders but that one seems to be in remission.

Now have a fine day.

An Agnostic Calls Out - Watch out! This might be a poem.

An Agnostic Calls Out

By jim bourey

It’s time for a prayer

I think. A heathen I am, an agnostic

for sure. But these days need faith

of some sort, of the vaguest or most

definite sort. So do it now. Do it

with me. Pray in the simplest way. Say

the name of your own cosmic controller.

Then say something like –

A little help here

please. We’ve got big trouble with hate.

We’ve got folks hating in the name of some

previously peaceful gods. We need some

changes. Help us out. I know You can.

If I can convince myself to pray

then I guess anyone can. And those

of you who have been practicing

the prayerful art better get at it

a little more intensely. It’s time.

We need faith these days. Definite

faith. Or vague, if that’s all you have.

If you have none at all send out

some positive energy. Whatever

that may be. It’s time for that too.

A SPECIAL DAY

Howdy friends and cyber-neighbors. It’s a special day today so I thought I’d celebrate by spouting off a little bit. What’s the special day, you ask. Well it’s the first day of the last year I can claim to be in my sixties.Yep, another decade is fast closing out.

When we arrive at one of these milestone years we have a tendency to notice how things have changed. We notice how technology caught up to us and zipped right past at an alarming rate. We notice how young folks are so different from us. And we notice how they’re so different from how we were when we were young. Or so we think. We also assess our physical situation. We might stand naked in front of a full length mirror and look at how kind aging has been to us. Then we laugh like hell. If we run into someone in our own age bracket we might suddenly start comparing our ailments and infirmities. Seems to be something we just can’t control.

Some of us might think about the state of entertainment, politics, business. But that gets depressing in a big fat hurry. So we turn off the TV, find a favorite bluegrass album (Gibson Brothers in my case), grab a good book and settle our blood pressure down.

Then in a quiet moment (there are lots of quiet moments when you’re fast approaching seventy) we might recall the good times and the wonderful things we’ve seen and experienced in our lives. Of course we can’t fully do that exercise in recollection. Hell, we can’t even remember where we put the car keys let alone that little kiss Jane or Trudy or Linda gave us behind the bleachers in ninth grade. So, if we’re inclined to write about this stuff in poetry or memoir, we make up some memories. Who’ll check? Anyone who was around back then is either dead or has as forgotten most of what they knew.

Another reverie on one of these special days may send us to thoughts of the future. We’ll think about how we still have things we want to do, places we want to visit and other milestones we want to watch in the lives of our children and grandchildren. Good luck with that, right? But we go ahead and make our plans knowing that we have very little control over what’s to come. And then when we’re about halfway through making our “to do” list we decide that something is missing. Yep, we dropped the pen on the floor and we don’t really feel like bending over to pick it up. So we decide it’s time to take a nap. And we do.

Have an exceptionally fine day. I know I will.

Poets Laureate: So What?

This little essay is OPINION. And we all know that opinion is the lowest form of knowledge. Informed opinion is slightly higher, but not too much. So, as you read this essay, if you continue to read, keep in mind the first sentence.

Okay. Poets Laureate. Poets Laureate are folks who have been selected by a government official or a government agency like the Delaware Division of the Arts to act as ambassadors (or maybe as cheerleaders) of the poetic arts in schools and other places where poetry should happen. In Delaware the governor appoints people to the position, usually under advisement of the arts agency. But the governor does not need to consult anyone on the appointment, unless of course, his wife or some other relative has a suggestion.

Here in Delaware, where every move by today’s government officials is politically crafty (and always politically correct) new Poets Laureate were announced yesterday evening. This is the first time that two poets will share the position. This is also the first time that twin brothers will claim the title. And this is the first time Spoken Word poets have been selected for the job. Lots of firsts.

But really, why do we need Poets Laureate? In some places that title is purely honorary or symbolic and there are no duties attached other than an occasional reading of a poem at official functions. In other places the position is only as active as the appointee wants to make it. Here in our State the last two Laureates have been busy folks. They took the job seriously and did much to promote the literary arts in Delaware. So maybe we need a Poet Laureate if only to be a reminder that poetry is still around and it might still have some value.

Now let’s turn to Spoken Word poetry. Of course almost all poetry is meant to be spoken. But the modern appellation of Spoken Word designates poetry and poets who deliver poems in a strong rhyme and meter pattern, often spontaneously. It has been called “Rap” without musical instruments in the background. A great deal of Spoken Word poetry is political, addressing issues of race and urban living. Much of it is aimed at young people and is intended to be inspirational. And some of it is sexually charged or intentionally shocking in content. There is a strong tradition in Spoken Word that goes back to the 1960’s “First Poets’ of New York City. And of course the “First Poets” drew on earlier traditions of story tellers and probably spontaneous “testifying” in various predominately African-American churches. What modern Spoken Word poetry does not draw on is the vast library of poetic literature that is the foundation of today’s written and orally presented poetry. In fact, I have had Spoken Word artists say that they stay away from “old style” “classical” or “written down” poetry since it is “irrelevant”.  When I asked a particular Spoken Word guy if he had read or heard any “Beat” poets from the 1950s or 1960s he said that he didn’t have time to fool with that stuff.

So I’m a little worried. I don’t know the two poets who are our new Laureates in Delaware. I’ve heard that they are good and caring individuals. I’ve read that they are very active in their communities and that they are both professional social workers. But I don’t know if they have any regard for poetry other than Spoken Word. I don’t care if they have MFAs or a long list of academic credentials. I’m sorely lacking in those myself. But as ambassadors of poetry in schools I’d like to know that traditional poetry gets a fair shake. I’d like to see kids encouraged to read Shel Silverstein, Billy Collins, Langston Hughes, Walt Whitman, Sherman Alexie, Pablo Neruda and hundreds of others as their young minds move from grade school and on to college. Poetry is not a subject that gets much attention in today’s English classes. Its value has diminished even more than it had when I was in school decades ago. It has gone the way of good grammar, cursive handwriting and classical literature.

Our previous Poet Laureate was struggling mightily against that decline. She strongly supported the Poetry Aloud program. She pushed creative writing of all types as she traveled to schools up and down the state. She encouraged students to enter writing competitions, poetry and prose. And she always encouraged young people to read – read the old poets and prose writers, read new poets and prose writers, read local poets and prose writers. I’m hoping the new Laureates will continue that struggle for real literacy.

In Delaware there is also a strong network of poets and other authors. There are numerous writing groups in every county. Critique groups, weekly or monthly workshops, writers’ breakfast or lunch clubs are a regular part of the lives of many writers in our state. Poetry readings happen on a regular basis. Guest speakers are brought in from around the nation to give talks and lead workshops. These programs take place in Libraries and churches and museums and schools. Delaware is a lively place for literature. I hope that our new Laureates take advantage of this built in network to spread the word about their particular Art. And I hope they call upon all of these organizations to help in the revitalization of literature in the schools.

I’m not a big fan of Spoken Word poetry. But that doesn’t matter. I’m not a fan of “Language” poetry either, or 19^th century Romantic poetry. But I see the value in all those things. They are all building blocks in the foundation of literature. What we do now has been built on what came before.

I wish the new Poets Laureate much success in their new posts. I hope to meet them soon and I hope they continue the activist ways of their predecessor in the office.