10.23.2025 – I cried over things

I cried over things
knowing no beautiful things,
not one, not one … lasts

Adapted from:

I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts.
The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper sunburned woman,
The mother of the year, the taker of seeds.
The northwest wind comes and the yellow is torn full of holes,
New beautiful things come in the first spit of snow on the northwest wind,
And the old things go, not one lasts.

Autumn by Carl Sandburg in Chicago Poems as published in The Complete Poems of Carl Sandburg, (Harcourt Brace and Company, New York, 1950).

It’s just a building, I know.

And I know it was MASSIVELY renovated under Mr. Truman.

But understand, without much structural attention since being turned over to John Adams and being burned by the Brits in 1812, that building was falling down.

According to wikipedia:

By late 1948, three main options were considered for replacement of the White House:

  • Demolish and rebuild the interior, keeping the exterior walls intact.
  • Demolish the building entirely and construct a new executive mansion.
  • Demolish the building entirely, salvage the exterior walls and rebuild them and a new interior.

Two of the options were DEMOLISH ENTIRELY.

And the decision was made to Demolish and rebuild the interior, keeping the exterior walls intact.

Also from Wikipedia, Historic preservation of buildings during this time was not as strict or defined as it became later. For its time, simply not demolishing the entire structure was deemed “preservation”. Winslow envisioned many of the interior items – from doors, trim, woodwork, and ornamental plaster – would be reused. Most were carefully dismantled, labelled, catalogued, and stored. Much of the paneling was reinstalled in the main public rooms, but other historic elements were simply copied to accommodate increasing cost and time constraints. Many of the original materials that were not deemed of significantly identifiable historic value, such as marble fireplace mantels, or not deemed to be readily reused, such as pipes, were sent to landfills.

So is it the building where Mrs. Adams hung her laundry up in to dry, where Lincoln walked and FDR rolled?

Well not really, but there is this scene in my memory that I read about where Carl Sandburg, visited FDR in what is now the Yellow Room but in that day, was FDR’s study.

Sandburg, according to the story, stood at a window, hand on the window frame, and said something like, “This is where Lincoln stood, looking south to Virginia.”

FDR asked, “How can you know?”

Sandburg responded, “… I can tell.”

That window, the window Mr. Lincoln looked through, the window that Sandburg rested his hand on, that’s still there.

Still there … for now.

10.22.2025 -La mer est tout, son

La mer est tout, son
souffle est pur et sain que
mouvement et amour 

Based on the passage: La mer est tout ! Elle couvre les sept dixièmes du globe terrestre. Son souffle est pur et sain. C’est l’immense désert où l’homme n’est jamais seul, car il sent frémir la vie à ses côtés. La mer n’est que le véhicule d’une surnaturelle et prodigieuse existence ; elle n’est que mouvement et amour ; c’est l’infini vivant, comme l’a dit un de vos poètes. Et en effet, monsieur le professeur, la nature s’y manifeste par ses trois règnes, minéral, végétal, animal.”

From Vingt mille lieues sous les mers : Tour du monde sous‑marin by Jules Verne( Paris : Éditions J. Hetzel & Cie, 1870).

Or … The sea is everything!

It covers seven-tenths of the earth’s surface. Its breath is pure and healthy.

It is the vast desert where man is never alone, for he feels life stirring on all sides.

The sea is only the vehicle for a supernatural and prodigious existence;

it is nothing but movement and love;

it is living infinity, as one of your poets said.

And indeed, Professor, nature manifests itself there in all three of its kingdoms: mineral, vegetable, and animal.”

From Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Seas: A Tour of the Underwater World by Jules Verne (Paris: J. Hetzel & Co., 1870).

What?

Another excuse to show off that this is where I take my lunch time?

La mer est tout!

The sea is everything!

Elle n’est que mouvement et amour!

It is nothing but movement and love!

And … another excuse to show off that this is where I take my lunch time.

10.21.2025 – implements of war

implements of war,
subjugation – arguments
to which kings resort

Based on these excepts from the speech known as, Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death by Patrick Henry as published in American Oratory, 1760–1900: Critical Studies and Sources, edited by Gregory Schneider, 18–23 (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000).

Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation?
Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled that force must be called in to win back our love?
Let us not deceive ourselves, sir.
These are the implements of war and subjugation—the last arguments to which kings resort.

It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace—but there is no peace. The war is actually begun!
The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms!
Our brethren are already in the field!
Why stand we here idle?
What is it that gentlemen wish?
What would they have?
Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery?
Forbid it, Almighty God!
I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!

According to Wikipedia, Mr. Henry made the speech to the Second Virginia Convention on March 23, 1775, at St. John’s Church in Richmond, Virginia. Henry is credited with having swung the balance in convincing the convention to pass a resolution delivering Virginian troops for the Revolutionary War. Among the delegates to the convention were future United States presidents Thomas Jefferson and George Washington.

According to Edmund Randolph, the convention sat in profound silence for several minutes after Henry’s speech ended.

10.20.2025 – break the law, let your

break the law, let your
life be a counter friction
to stop the machine

what I have to do
is not lend myself to the
wrong which I condemn

If the injustice is part of the necessary friction of the machine of government, let it go, let it go: perchance it will wear smooth—certainly the machine will wear out.

If the injustice has a spring, or a pulley, or a rope, or a crank, exclusively for itself, then perhaps you may consider whether the remedy will not be worse than the evil;

but if it is of such a nature that it requires you to be the agent of injustice to another, then, I say, break the law.

Let your life be a counter‑friction to stop the machine.

What I have to do is to see, at any rate, that I do not lend myself to the wrong which I condemn.

From Walden; or, Life in the Woods by Henry David Thoreau (Boston: Ticknor and Fields, 1854).

Or, as it he said, Ralph, what are you doing … out there.

10.8.2025 – hang it on the wall

hang it on the wall
the last thing before she sleeps
first when you waken

Chair, Pocket Knife, Guitar

The slatted folding chair you sat upon,
The scantlings and ad hoc stuff of that playroom
You screened out as you just rocked on and on
In perfect time before the television,
To-day let all that tick-tock bric-a-brac
Come like a drumstick stick-man rolling home.

The one-blade pocket knife you coveted
In a shop window that first evening in France
And I bought then on the spot in thanksgiving
For us just being there: although it’s lost
I stand like a glad Macbeth faced with its ghost
Handle towards my hand, saying, ‘Thank, thank God’.

The guitar you got the day you started school
And were photographed with, up on the picnic table,
Play it again to-day, fierce Andalucian
Serenades and country wedding songs,
Then hang it on the wall, your true love’s token,
Last thing before she sleeps, first when you waken.

Unpublished poem by Seamus Heaney to be released on October 9th.

The reviewer in the Guardian writes:

Unlike other unpublished poems, some of which had tens of pages of drafts, there seems to be just one version of Chair, Pocket Knife, Guitar in existence. Heaney may have had more focus writing the poem because it was for an occasion, said Hollis. “It seems to have arrived with confidence, with force, and with purity of heart.”

From the article: Seamus Heaney’s unpublished poems to be released — read one exclusively here by Ella Creamer.

The slatted folding chair you sat upon

The one-blade pocket knife you coveted

The guitar you got the day you started school

Your true love’s token

Then hang it on the wall

Last thing before she sleeps

First when you waken

It seems to have arrived with confidence, with force, and with purity of heart.

I still like to wear a wristwatch.

I like to wear it on the inside of my wrist instead of the outside.

A longtime ago somewhere I read that wristwatches were designed during World War 1 so officers in the trenches didn’t have to pull out a pocket watch to check the time.

It was learned to wear the watch on the inside to protect the crystal.

Years later I read that Ronald Reagan also wore his wristwatch on the inside.

When asked, he said the had worn his watch that way since the days he had been an announcer on Radio and wearing the watch on the inside allowed him to check the time while holding a script.

Standard practice for folks onair back in the day.

The one I wear now was a gift from my wife on the occasion of our 25th Wedding anniversary.

It’s one of those self winding watches that winds itself as I swing my arm.

I like to say if my watch isn’t running, I must be dead.

Of late it hasn’t been running so well.

Admittedly, working at a computer all day, I don’t get much opportunity to swing my arms.

But last Christmas my wife bought me a self winding watch winder.

It’s a little box with a spinner in it.

I set my watch in there overnight and the spinner spins every once in a while to keep it wound.

My wife also suggested it’s time for a new watch.

Something I resist vehemently.

Just needs a good cleaning, I say.

See, it was a gift from my wife on out 25th anniversary.

For me, it’s my true love’s token.

I hang it on my wrist.

Last thing before she sleeps.

First when I waken.

It seems to have arrived with confidence, with force, and with purity of heart.