But He Loved His Dog

My concern about using the term Pro-Life is that it’s a misnomer. It would be honest to say Pro-Birth. After that I don’t see much Pro-Life among the Pro-Lifers. They stand firm for the unborn; however, they show little if any passion and care for the born.

It would be life changing if the same passion were applied to those whose lives are mere survival. Don’t we long for those who need food, need medical attention they can’t afford, housing in which they can thrive, mental health aid and support, just plain safety, rights and respect, and on and on? Don’t we want to be pro-living for them?

And don’t we long for a president who serves the people and not this cult called “his base,” one who is pro-quality-of-life, not one who is pro-death to integrity, to the caring spirit?

But He Loved His Dog

Wednesday was trash day so he pulled
the garbage can to the curb. There
was never that much in it. Sometimes
he stood there for a few minutes, looking
down when a car drove by, looking up
at the trees in the yard across the street.

No one really knew if he knew anyone.
He had a dog. It wasn’t much of a dog.
It was an old dog, a mix too mixed
to know what all might be there. He
told someone once, “Oh I suppose
there has to be some beagle, maybe
some German shepherd.” Each noon
he walked the dog down to the corner,
left on Maple Avenue, three blocks
to the park where they would stop and

he would sit on a bench under a beech
that had been hollowing out for years.
The dog lay at his feet, once in a while
lifted its head and sniffed. He never read
or talked except to say, “What do you
think of this day, boy?” and the dog
would wag its tail across the gravel path.

He would sit for most of the afternoon,
then tug on the dog’s leash and they
would walk on through the park, then
back home. He would bring in the mail,
toss it away. When the evening’s light
began drawing its shadow across his porch,
he would turn on the radio, open a window,
and sit outside, with his dog, listening
to the classical music station and the cicadas.

–Jack Ridl

From Practicing to Walk Like a Heron (Wayne State University Press)

Here’s some really good news: The poet Kathleen McGookey, that masterful composer of the prose poem, has published a new collection–Nineteen Letters, a stunning hardback, each poem printed on a different color paper. (BarCat Press and produced in cooperation with Lincoln Park Performing Arts Charter School.)

Upcoming Events–

June 22: Writing workshop at Ox-Bow. It might be open to more participants. And they may build a waiting list, so contact them and add your name in case someone drops. Be sure to check out all the classes at Ox-Bow here. They are a delight, especially because you learn without any pressure to achieve.

July 25: The Michigan Authors Workshop sponsored by Saginaw Valley State University. Arts Center in Midland. Writing workshop in the afternoon. A reading that evening.
Contact is Helen M. Raica-Klotz klotz@svsu.edu
Go to the website for a list of all the events over the several days and for registration information.

August 13, 6-8pm: Sixth Annual Reading at The Red Dock, 219 N. Union Street, Douglas, MI, with D.L. James and Mark Hiskes. 6pm. Music mid afternoon.

August 20, 7p.m.: Reading at The Book Nook & Java Shop, 8744 Ferry Street in Montigue. The place itself is worth being in–so comfy and welcoming with fine eats and of course Java!

 

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Visit Reader’s World or Hope-Geneva Bookstore in Holland, The Bookman in Grand Haven, the Michigan News Agency in Kalamazoo, The Book Nook in Saugatuck, and The Book Nook & Java Shop in Montague to find Jack’s books in West Michigan.

Jack’s page on Amazon.

Click here to subscribe to receive Jack’s poems and news in your inbox.

Click here for Jack’s entire collection, In Time — poems for the current administration.

Click here to watch Jack’s TedX talk.