Category: Series

7.10.2024 – life indelible

life indelible
summertime, oh summertime,
summer without end

Summertime, oh summertime, pattern of life indelible, the fade proof lake, the woods unshatterable, the pasture with the sweet fern and the juniper forever and ever, summer without end; this was the background, and the life along the shore was the design, the cottages with their innocent and tranquil design, their tiny docks with the flagpole and the American flag floating against the white clouds in the blue sky, the little paths over the roots of the trees leading from camp to camp and the paths leading back to the outhouses and the can of lime for sprinkling, and at the souvenir counters at the store the miniature birch-bark canoes and the post cards that showed things looking a little better than they looked. This was the American family at play, escaping the city heat …

From Once More to the Lake, as published in Essays of E.B. White by E. B. White, New York, Harper Colophon Books, 1979.

In his forward to the book of essays, Mr. White writes, “The essayist is a self-liberated man, sustained by the childish belief that everything he thinks about, everything that happens to him, is of general interest. He is a fellow who thoroughly enjoys his work, just as people who take bird walks enjoy theirs. Each new excursion of the essayist, each new “attempt,” differs from the last and takes him into new country. This delights him. Only a person who is congenitally self -centered has the effrontery and the stamina to write essays.”

Sustained by the childish belief that everything he thinks about, everything that happens to him, is of general interest.

Is that not fabulous?

And spot on for all these goofy essays that seem to spill off of my keyboard.

Now here is the odd thing.

I hate to type.

I will go to the greatest lengths imaginable to find a bit of text that I can copy and paste rather than type myself.

I had it in mind to use this bit of story, Once More to the Lake by Mr. White.

But far be it from me to want to retype the the text I wanted so I searched for something I could copy which led me to an electronic copy of the Essay’s of Mr. White which led me to re-read his forward to the essays which led me to copy and past that little bit of text from the forward I just quoted.

In doing so, the word belief in the phrase sustained by the childish belief was copied as the word behef or sustained by the childish behef.

Spell check tossed it out so I looked it up.

Maybe behef was a word the Mr. White selected as a bit of word play.

The closest word I could find was from the Middle English and that behef was a variation of the word biheve (according to the online dictionary of Middle English available from the University of Michigan which as an institution has been working on the Dictionary of Middle English for as long as I can remember) which is an adjective meaning of things: needed; beneficial; appropriate, fitting.

Things needed, beneficial, appropriate and fitting.

I love that.

Though closer inspection did prove that the word Mr. White wanted was belief, I like the sentence very much with behef.

The sentence could have read, Sustained by the childish need that everything he thinks about, everything that happens to him, is of general interest which is altogether beneficial, appropriate and fitting.

Summertime, oh summertime.

Summer without end.

Needed, beneficial, appropriate and fitting.

Life indelible.

BTW – the photo above is of my sister Lisa along the shore of Lake Michigan was taken by my Father sometime in the late 1960’s.

My family has had a long association with the West Michigan artist Armond Merizon.

This photo could have been painted by him.

Life indelible.

6.22.2024 – his uniform fit

his uniform fit
better than everybody
else’s uniform

“You would stay on the bench during batting practice simply to watch him — and just watching him walk, even that was special,” said Cleon Jones, who grew up in Alabama idolizing Mays and ended up sharing the outfield with him when the Giants traded Mays to the Mets in 1972.

“I’m telling you, even his uniform seemed to fit better than everybody else’s uniform,” Jones said. “The players held him with a reverence that felt almost spiritual.”

From the article, Remembering Willie Mays as Both Untouchable and Human by Kurt Streeter.

Not much to say but I think of Jim Harrison in his book The Road Home when his lead character meets Sioux Lakota warriors, veterans of the wars with Custer.

Mr. Harrison writes, ” … warriors with a lineage that owed nothing to the white man. We did not live upon the same earth that they did and we flatter ourselves when we think we understand them. To pity these men is to pity the gods.”

I also want to point out that Mr. Mays did not play in the Major Leagues until he was 20 years old.

Al Kaline and Robin Yount both started when there were 18.

I think of the record book with two more seasons added to it.

Mr. Streeter writes, “How great was he?

Six hundred sixty. That is how many home runs bolted off Mays’s bat during his career. When the Say Hey Kid retired at the end of the 1973 season, only Babe Ruth and Hank Aaron had more.

Mays ended 23 major league seasons with a total of 3,293 hits and held a .301 lifetime batting average, eye-popping for a player with such power. Twenty-four times, he was named to the All-Star team. Twelve times, he won the Gold Glove Award. Ten times, he drove in more than 100 runs.

He was named the National League’s most valuable player twice. If it were not for a need to spread the award among players, some experts say, he could have been the M.V.P. seven more times.

Numbers and accolades tell only part of his story. For it was how Mays played — the way he bent the confines of baseball to his will with his smarts, his speed, his style and his power — that set him apart as the most deeply beloved of stars.”

Mr. Mays also missed a season due to having to fulfill his military service.

And it should be pointed out I guess that Jackie Robinson was rookie of the year, his first year, …when he was 28.

The New York Times closes its Obituary with:

When he was selected for the Hall of Fame, Mays was asked to name the best ballplayer he had ever seen.

“I think I was the best ballplayer I’ve ever seen,” he replied. “I feel nobody in the world could do what I could do on a baseball field.”

Not too many could argue.

I mean, to quote Cleon Jones once more, “I’m telling you, even his uniform seemed to fit better than everybody else’s uniform.”

6.19.2024 – strive to learn before

strive to learn before
they die what they are running
from, and to, and why …

The Shore and the Sea

A single excited lemming started the exodus, crying, “Fire!” and running toward the sea. He may have seen the sunrise through the trees, or waked from a fiery nightmare, or struck his head against a stone, producing stars. Whatever it was, he ran and ran, and as he ran he was joined by others, a mother lemming and her young, a night watch lemming on his way home to bed, and assorted revelers and early risers.

“The world is coming to an end!” they shouted, and as the hurrying hundreds turned into thousands, the reasons for their headlong flight increased by leaps and bounds and hops and skips and jumps.

“The devil has come in a red chariot!” cried an elderly male. “The sun is his torch! The world is on fire!”

“It’s a pleasure jaunt,” squeaked an elderly female.

“A what?” she was asked.

“A treasure hunt!” cried a wild-eyed male who had been up all night. “Full many a gem of purest ray serene the dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear.”

“It’s a bear!” shouted his daughter. “Go it!” And there were those among the fleeing thousands who shouted “Goats!” and “Ghosts!” until there were almost as many different alarms as there were fugitives.

One male lemming who had lived alone for many years refused to be drawn into the stampede that swept past his cave like a flood. He saw no flames in the forest, and no devil, or bear, or goat, or ghost. He had long ago decided, since he was a serious scholar, that the caves of ocean bear no gems, but only soggy glub and great gobs of mucky gump. And so he watched the other lemmings leap into the sea and disappear beneath the waves, some crying “We are saved!” and some crying “We are lost!” The scholarly lemming shook his head sorrowfully, tore up what he had written through the years about his species, and started his studies all over again.

MORAL: All men should strive to learn before they die what they are running from, and to, and why.

From Further Fables for Our Time by James Thurber, published in Great Britain 1956 by Hamish Hamilton Ltd.

6.17.2024 – am I too old to

am I too old to
see the fairies dance – cannot
find them any more …

Now,
In June,
When the night is a vast softness
Filled with blue stars,
And broken shafts of moon-glimmer
Fall upon the earth,
Am I too old to see the fairies dance?
I cannot find them any more.

After Many Springs in the book The Weary Blues by Langston Hughes  (Alfred A. Knopf, 1926).

Went to the beach yesterday and with the tide being high had to walk a bit up the beach to find a place away from the crowds.

The sun was clear and hot and bright and the beach sand burned our toes so we dropped our chairs and ran into the water.

The water was wavy and splashy and cool and we spent most of the afternoon in the surf.

It was nice to be away from the crowd.

We could see them a ways away, lining the beach with their umbrellas and shibumi beach shades flying in the the breeze.

We could see them but with wind and waves, we couldn’t hear them a ways away down the beach.

We stayed in the waves, played in the water.

Time to leave, we packed up and carried our gear back to through the beach crowd and threaded our way to the wooden walkway down to the showers to spray off the sand and salt.

While waiting, we exchanged pleasantries with the crowd and admired the babies.

We asked one Mom, surrounded by sun burned kids, if they had a good beach day?

Mom said “You bet!”

She turned and look at her kids and looked back and said, “Though it was kind of scary when they cleared the water and closed the beach those three times the lifeguard spotted sharks.”

…