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small joys, was: Whither Frodo?

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  • Joel Wendt
    Me, I m just a fat old bald man. I write a lot, but can t make words dance the way Jan does. Or sing, as in: I am new to this means of communication, and
    Message 1 of 2 , Jun 29, 2003
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      Me, I'm just a fat old bald man. I write a lot, but can't make words
      dance the way Jan does. Or sing, as in:

      "I am new to this means of communication, and have learned a lot from
      lots of people. Especially from Bradford. And I neither look for nor
      follow gurus. Not the type.

      "How to answer such an unexpected rain of pure gold?" [referring to
      Bradford's post]

      I'm glad the two of you like each other so much. I'm sure there are
      others amazed at it all. Perhaps we should just sit back and enjoy the
      poetry and plays, the fine words and fine sentiments.

      A year ago, my wife (haven't lived together for 7 years, but never
      divorced), took our daughter off to Arizona. Can't blame her for
      leaving me, as those who see my posts might guess, I'm not easy to live
      with. Didn't like her taking my daughter away, but understood it.
      She'd had a bad relationship, and needed to find herself new space.

      Our son lived with me the last couple of years, and we both missed
      Gabriella Bethany Grace (my daughter, his sister) so off to Arizona we
      soon go.

      I had to quit my job at the factory last fall, they wanted me to work
      graveyard, and I did that for 10 years when I worked the mental hospital
      (not much poetry or playwriting there). Had a good friend at the
      factory for a while, a Native American by birth, an alcoholic by nature
      (me, I'm an addict), so we shared some things. Used to remark about how
      it was that we had to admit to a lot of gratefulness just to have jobs,
      and a roof and food.

      Anyway, I wander.

      Now G' has traveled to New England to help me and Adam (my son) pack up
      the house. She'll be here a month, and can't tell you the pleasure I
      get from seeing the two of them (he's 20, she's 15) play and tease and
      work together. He was so excited the day we went to pick her up at the
      airport - couldn't sit still (he usually sits for hours in front of one
      or more of his three computers, but that day, all anticipating nerves).

      He's fat too, and she's a bit plump, but mostly that baby fat some girls
      have at the onset of adolescence. We all like junk food, movies, TV,
      and like most adults, I can't tolerate the music they like. I'm a Moody
      Blues fan (Jan, you may know them) myself. If the music was made after
      the mid-'70's, I probably can't understand it.

      Breaks my heart what goes on in Washington D. C. these days - have a
      prior incarnation connected to the Founding. Sort of feels like having
      to watch a daughter on the verge of just becoming a woman get raped and
      not be able to do anything about it. Same time, I listen to the
      ordinary ones, the guys with pickup trucks and two jobs, and their wives
      that work at Walmart and at the factory. They maybe don't understand it
      all, but at the same time I can see that something lives in them that
      can't be beat down. Have to remember that its "We the People" that are
      America, whatever stupidity the rest of the world wants to indulge in
      thinking those idiots in Washington have anything to do with what a
      Nation is, or a People.

      Something in their hearts, Mr A. and all his minions can't touch, not in
      a million years.

      They don't know anthroposophy from pond scum, or poetry for that
      matter. A lot of them didn't graduate from High School, and they all
      have flaws as big as houses. But those hearts, tough as nails in their
      sense of what is right to do. Opps, what's that, nails = iron =
      Michaelic Courage. Ah hell, sorry, waxed anthroposophical there for a

      I do confess I like Lord of the Rings, but not sure that's the best
      metaphor for what's happening, or even if metaphor is all that useful in
      any event. Maybe for some people, I suppose.

      Years ago I was fascinated with things anthroposophical - thought
      everyone needed to eat that stuff. Eventually got over that lame idea.
      Started meeting the Big Guy in all the odd places, not just in Study
      Groups or goethean science tomes. Seemed everywhere I looked carefully
      enough, there He was, or His Mom. Sure, I could see Mr A. too, but he
      was more like a texture in the social climate of the moment, but not the
      essential thing at all.

      Mostly I love stories. Not the big ones, the great Dramas of the Bard,
      but the small ones, like listening to one of my daughter's friends tell
      of her struggles to hide being smart at school - what it costs her
      socially. Then I get to watch what it means to her just to have an
      adult and a friend that listen - so plain and simple an act, yet so
      powerful. No Frodo stuff there, just ordinary human pain and grit.

      Wish the lurkers here would tell their stories. Don't need fine words
      and great anthroposophical thoughts to be human. Richness in those
      stories, all the small joys we know and share. Such richness as make a
      poet not find the right words.

      Now that's culture!

      warm regards,
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