chief item in the
little library of hours
away from our lives
Recently reading The receptionist : an education at the New Yorker by Janet Groth (Chapel Hill, N.C. : Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill, 2012), I came across this passage where Ms. Groth reflects on her relationship with poet John Berryman.
Ms. Gorth writes: Since I could not watch John make his poems, the next best thing was to watch him teach. As a poet-teacher he so invested his ego in his work that he was ego-free, a fleshless, selfless lover and sharer of enlightenment, pure spirit. This part of him is neither personal nor notorious nor recorded anywhere at all except in his poems and in the memories of his students, where he exists as the chief item in the little library of hours we’ve brought away from our lives in the university.
I liked that last line, “ … and in the memories of his students, where he exists as the chief item in the little library of hours we’ve brought away from our lives in the university.“
Or more specifically, “… the little library of hours we’ve brought away from our lives.”
I am reminded of Mr. Bernstein in the movie Citizen Kane.
Mr. Thompson, the reporter digging into the life of Charles Foster Kane questions Mr. Bernstein’s thoughts that maybe ‘Rosebud’ was some girl Mr. Kane met.
Mr. Thompson says, “It’s hardly likely, Mr. Bernstein, that Mr. Kane could have met some girl casually and then, fifty years later, on his death bed —“
And Mr. Bernstein says (Note* if you haven’t seen the movie, read this passage slowly – pause after each line to get the effect of an old man thinking back 50 years):
Well, you’re pretty young, Mr…er…Mr. Thompson.
A fellow will remember a lot of things you wouldn’t think he’d remember.
You take me.
One day, back in 1896, I was crossing over to Jersey on a the ferry and as we pulled out there was another ferry pulling in.
And on it there was a girl waiting to get off.
A white dress she had on.
She was carrying a white parasol.
I only saw her for one second. and She didn’t see me at all.
But I’ll bet a month hasn’t gone by since that I haven’t thought of that girl.
The little library of hours we’ve brought away from our lives.
That little library of hours we’ve brought away from our lives.
Filled with chief items.
Multiple chief items.
I like that.
I like that a lot.
No Haiku For You 