Here’s a little coda to last week’s post: How many of you grew up being subjected to the well-meaning, “Just do your best”? I don’t know about you, but I was the kid who had no idea what my best was. Anxiety to the point of panic slithered within whether I was making my bed (My mother invariably smoothed out a wrinkle or four) or studying for an exam in existential philosophy.
Always I obsessed, “Did I do my best? How will I know?” They bewildered me, those people for whom the phrase brought relief, even confidence. Even after a failure — missing a layup or receiving a C — those folks heard, “That’s okay. I know you did your best.”
Man if this is 45’s best, I dread to think what his less than best looks like.
This week has lugged in quite a storm. It’s so cold that, even if properly winter-clothed, we will be frostbitten in ten minutes. The windchill here as I write has plummeted to a minus-27 F.
At least for a while we love it. Pile up the books, get out the board games, watch an old movie, curl up with the dogs.
A storm like this is a paradoxical gift, distracting us in the best of ways by forcing us to pay attention to what matters deeply in our own lives, all we would attend to if the thief-in-chief of our personal lives had never shown up in The White House.
Which brings me to today’s poem. Am I ever lucky! The blurbs/reviews for my new collection were written by Li-Young Lee, Dan Gerber, Terrance Hayes, and Billy Collins. In tune with the weather here, here’s an excerpt from Dan Gerber on the new book:
“Open the book to page 27 and read ‘Ice Storm.’ Feel how it settles in your chest, how your breath resounds with a long, deep, ‘Yes,’ how subtly you are changed by what you didn’t know you knew.”
Here on the couch with my old dog I find
I’m feeling gratitude, an odd gratitude,
an old gratitude, one I thought had gone
for good down a long back road
that led away from the years when
I felt glad, felt what I believed
was an abiding gratitude: to be,
to be warm, and grateful to be
warm, to have some pillows
and a dozen books and all afternoon.
To be alone without even a sideswipe
of loneliness. To be on page 47,
or 114, or page one and there
was nothing missing. The ice
storm made things warm,
time irrelevant, made the sleeping
dog an Amen to a prayer never
needing to be said.
First published in Third Wednesday
To be included in Saint Peter and the Goldfinch (Wayne State University Press)
So much news to share!
1. Jack Interview, February 22 on WMUK’s Art Beat. 12:30pm.
2. Party Time: Book Reception, April 5 for the release of Saint Peter and the Goldfinch.
When: April 5, 6:30-9:30pm
Where: The Douglass UCC church.
There will be a reading at 7pm. Then we party. Books on site for sale and signing.
Click here to Read all about it and RSVP PLEASE
3. Writing Your Personal History Workshop, April 6. Grace Episcopal Church. 9am-2pm
4.Workshop on March 30. “Poetry Trauma: The Way to Recovery.” This will offer a fresh way to be nourished by a variety of poems. It’s FREE. But you MUST reserve a seat.
When: March 30, 10am-1pm.
Where: The Douglass UCC church Friendship Hall.
Click here to reserve your seat online, or sign up at the church hall one of these Sunday mornings.
6. Wonderful news for those of you who know or want to meet the beloved Kathleen Markland.
She has been named the Honoree for the celebration of and fundraiser for The Ox-Bow School of Art and Artists’ Residency in Saugatuck, Michigan. Ox-Bow is more than 100 years old and is a part of The Art Institute of Chicago. Stay tuned for that fundraiser date!
7. Saugatuck’s D.R. James has a new chapbook coming out! Click here for a pre-order discount!
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Click here for Jack’s entire collection, In Time — poems for the current administration.