Saturday, August 30, 2014

Life goes on; Coming Home - J. Kenyon; Be kind - M. Blumental; WHS class of 1954 60th reunion



Coming Home at Twilight in Late Summer

We turned into the drive,
and gravel flew up from the tires
like sparks from a fire. So much
to be done—the unpacking, the mail
and papers ... the grass needed mowing ....
We climbed stiffly out of the car.
The shut-off engine ticked as it cooled.

And then we noticed the pear tree,
the limbs so heavy with fruit
they nearly touched the ground.
We went out to the meadow; our steps
made black holes in the grass;
and we each took a pear,
and ate, and were grateful.

"Coming Home at Twilight in Late Summer" by Jane Kenyon, from Collected Poems. © Graywolf Press, 2005


Be Kind

Not merely because Henry James said
there were but four rules of life—
be kind be kind be kind be kind— but
because it's good for the soul, and,
what's more, for others; it may be
that kindness is our best audition
for a worthier world, and, despite
the vagueness and uncertainty of
its recompense, a bird may yet wander
into a bush before our very houses,
gratitude may not manifest itself in deeds
entirely equal to our own, still there's
weather arriving from every direction,
the feasts of famine and feasts of plenty
may yet prove to be one, so why not
allow the little sacrificial squinches and
squigulas to prevail? Why not inundate
the particular world with minute particulars?
Dust's certainly all our fate, so why not
make it the happiest possible dust,
a detritus of blessedness? Surely
the hedgehog, furling and unfurling
into its spiked little ball, knows something
that, with gentle touch and unthreatening
tone, can inure to our benefit, surely the wicked
witches of our childhood have died and,
from where they are buried, a great kindness
has eclipsed their misdeeds. Yes, of course,
in the end so much comes down to privilege
and its various penumbras, but too much
of our unruly animus has already been
wasted on reprisals, too much of the
unblessed air is filled with smoke from
undignified fires. Oh friends, take
whatever kindness you can find
and be profligate in its expenditure:
It will not drain your limited resources,
I assure you, it will not leave you vulnerable
and unfurled, with only your sweet little claws
to defend yourselves, and your wet little noses,
and your eyes to the ground, and your little feet.

"Be Kind" by Michael Blumenthal, from No Hurry. © Etruscan Press, 2012


The 60th Reunion
1954 class of Waukesha High School
Aug. 22 and 23, 2014

a time of remembrance,
rekindling friendships...

Since we took our HS diplomas in Horeb Spring amphitheater
there have been twelve such reunion events
over the flying years.

This reporter had not been to a single one
so figured at this stage of the game
it was time.

Gathering at the former Wauksha High
now named Les Paul/Central Campus Middle School
we prepared for a nicely-led tour by appointment.
They seemed glad to see us.

School District PR man Norder does a good job.

Of particular interest to us was the remodeled gym
where the once rickety balcony we crowded onto at game events,
is no longer there.

'Before' picture from an old photo


Game attenders sit on bleachers opposite side.
Ball players not as prone to flying into kids' laps
with this arrangement.

Saddle-shoed Jack Hill points to Henry Ford quote recently painted on wall.
The school was standing tall, readly for incoming students as the next term approaches.

A gift of labor and materials from employees of GE has helped put a bright face
on the old renamed school.

The Ford quote: "Failure is only the opportunity to begin again
more intelligently."

The much-trod main entrance...and exit

more reunion pix next attachment
go to

High School Reunion pix, cont'd

I figured in my computer semi-savvy way not to overload the system and split the send in two.

Superceding this weekly Sat. Rac. issuance is the project I'm working on presently
to get many more pictures I took of our events last weekend
with the help of a pc guru close friend:

From the high school last friday we trekked to the home of Bob and Carol Lombardi in Waukesha.
As they were leaving for a long-planned famiy excursion the next day (Reunion day Sat.) they hosted
a gathering to get some reunion licks in their yard the day prior.

A fine time was had.  Some pix follow:

54ers and spouses or friends came and went
at this happyLombardi-hosted soiree.
The weather cooperated.

Next day
our luncheon was held at the Western Racquet Club in Elm Grove
amidst splendid surroundings.

54er, former Cedarburg Mayor Jim Coutts introduces ex faculty speaker, Charlie Miller

As was the case for many attenders, this gentleman, Keith Meredith, a Floridian,  came in from afar
to be at the affair, which netted 103 attenders.

Truly a success!

The labor of love performed by 1954 class president Bill Nelson
 - Ringmaster of the reunion, truth be told, was
> the heralded reunion booklet <.
That gift alone was worth the price of the country club luncheon
and MUCH more.

The contents include updated addresses, both E and postal.  Priceless!
Thanks, Bill.

Earl Olson, airport owner and of several aircraft he's collected in Medina Ohio
 listened intently as Charle Miller reminisced about physics teacher
Charlie Horwitz, who taught Earl and recommended Earl for
flying lessons while he was a student at WHS.

It kind of all started for Earl thanks to teacher Horwitz.

Of course, our home office screensaver is set to a picture showing Dee (right)

Former Waukesha Alderman E. Vitale added some sought-after words on a mystery person from the past.
Age considering, Vito looks pretty good today.

'Vito' V. kindly set up a tableau of some of his press clips on a side table.

After much rollicking
we gathered outside for a group photo:

Note:  There will be soon available a complete set of reunion photos
available to anyone who requests same.
We are exploring doing them on a CD probably via Walgreens.
Am in consult with a pc expert.

Would like to keep costs minimal or nothing.

Req. c/o

(I was at first doing this reunion on assignment from the Raccoon
but I got into the spirit of it. - DD)

Friday, August 22, 2014

Not half the man; A woman and a half; Gone fishing; The Cabbages of Chekhov; Never say; Top, you're the; RIP again, this time QB potato soup



Robin Williams


The Cabbages of Chekhov

Some gamblers abandon carefully built houses
In order to live near water. It's all right. One day
On the river is worth a thousand nights on land.

It is our attraction to ruin that saves us;
And disaster, friends, brings us health. Chekhov
Shocks the heavens with his dark cabbages.

William Blake knew that fierce old man,
Irritable, chained and majestic, who bends over
To measure with his calipers the ruin of the world.

It takes so little to make me happy tonight!
Four hours of singing will do it, if we remember
How much of our life is a ruin, and agree to that.

Butterflies spend all afternoon concentrating
On the buddleia bush; human beings take in
The fragrance of a thousand nights of ruin.

We planted fields of sorrow near the Tigris.
The Harvesters will come in at the end of time
And tell us that the crop of ruin has been great.

"The Cabbages of Chekhov" by Robert Bly, from The Night Abraham Called to the Stars. © Harper Collins, 2002


never say


You're the Top

Of all the people that I've ever known
I think my grandmother Bernice
would be best qualified to be beside me now

driving north of Boston in a rented car
while Cole Porter warbles on the radio;
Only she would be trivial and un-

politically correct enough to totally enjoy
the rhyming of Mahatma Ghandi
with Napoleon brandy;

and she would understand, from 1948,
the miracle that once was cellophane,
which Porter rhymes with night in Spain.

She loved that image of the high gay life
where people dressed by servants
turned every night into the Ritz:

dancing through a shower of just
uncorked champagne
into the shelter of a dry martini.

When she was 70 and I was young
I hated how a life of privilege
had kept her ignorance intact

about the world beneath her pretty feet,
how she believed that people with good manners
naturally had yachts, knew how to waltz

and dribbled French into their sentences
like salad dressing. My liberal adolescent rage
was like a righteous fist back then

that wouldn't let me rest,
but I've come far enough from who I was
to see her as she saw herself:

a tipsy debutante in 1938,
kicking off a party with her shoes;
launching the lipstick-red high heel
                     from her elegant big toe

into the orbit of a chandelier
suspended in a lyric by Cole Porter,
bright and beautiful and useless.

"You're the Top" by Tony Hoagland, from Sweet Ruin. © The University of Wisconsin Press, 1992


Quin Brien

On Thursday
I went out to the Dr's clinic to have my rat poison level 
checked via coumadin finger prick
and as I was going to be near The Machine Shed
- home of the great potato soup -
I stopped in honor of the recenty-departed
Quin Brien (above).

This time I was alone.

Though it was a little early at 9:50 AM
in fact the soup wasn't quite on yet
the waitress said
I ordered a bowl of it
waited till it was servable
and consumed it
for Quin and me.



Saturday, August 16, 2014

Street dancer; The Jockey; Outbreaks in America; NYT Obama your move; Cat chews catnip; Other downtown shots; Elena's elephant; PT 658


(for my birthday daughter Laurie in Alaska)

wanting to believe it's real
it IS real

gracias Jose Marti et al
incl. gifter Tom Bentz


the spill

the jock's horse
the 7 horse
clipped the heels
of the horse
in front of

stumbled and
throwing the
over its
and onto the
track before

most of
avoided the

except for
the 9
who gave him
one step
in the middle
of his

you could
the hoof

then the
field was
and the
ambulance was
on its

the jock wore
Kelly green

3 or 4
people were now
gathered around
as the ambulance
moved in

the man behind
said to his
"let's go get'

"the spill" by Charles Bukowski, from Come on In! New Poems. © Harper Collins Publishers, 2007




Five Points Cat chews catnip chaise, wigs out

The two girls hang out
KD on her 'Close -to-Mom' catnip chaise-lounge
which she chews on.  It is catnip-laced
and when she consumes the cardboardy material
  she has paroxysms.

Why do birds suddenly appear?...



Amidst the rain
a downtown peace dove
coming out of mourning

digital camera focuses clearly on the rain drops
part of the downtown syndrome

The sun goes down

Downtown sky change eve following heavy rain
sun sets gloriously

Downtown tree trimmer hums
"While my saw gently plays..."

Holes dug here
Cheap (not)

A tree grows in Brooklyn (Waukesha)

Metropolitan bike rack outside Dady-Oh's

Sleepy (no), Grumpy (no), Sneezy (no), BASHFUL 
(Chef Krueger, Dady-Oh's)



Final note to my soon to be reunionized
classmates from Waukesha High
class of 1954:

A group of men, all in their 70s took it upon themselves
to rebuild a WW II PT boat.

This rebuild feat puts the lie to those who would have septuagenarians put to calm and small use, a-sea.

- Courtesy of John Marotta. SRN reader -


photo DIX, Z off Sequim WA 2000