November 13: Bewildered Expression, Paris, D. H. Melhem, "41," Off the Top of My Head

And then Ives blinked and found himself standing on the sidewalk beside his wife, across the street from the Church of the Ascension.  On the pavement, just by his feet, was a large piece of canvas, and under it a body, stretched out.  Then the officer lifted off the canvas and shined a flashlight onto the face to reveal the shocked and bewildered expression of his son.

This is the moment when Ives' entire life shifts.  The police officer lifts that piece of canvas, and Ives stares down at his new life.  A life defined by tragedy and loss.  He's no longer going to be the father of a future priest.  Forever more, Ives will be a grieving parent, victim of violence, symbol of tragedy.

This evening. I spend almost two hours watching the news reports about the terrorist attacks in Paris.  So much confusion and fear.  Over 140 people killed in six separate attacks.  The entire country of France shut down as the police and military try to restore peace.

As I sat watching the same images over and over, listening to the news anchors saying the same things over and over, I couldn't help but remember September 11.  How I spent the day glued to the television, watching the World Trade Center towers fall again and again.  And the panic.  Cars lined up at the gas stations because of a rumor about skyrocketing prices.  All airplanes grounded.  Everyone was waiting for the next tragedy to happen.

I'm sure, in the coming days, the networks are going to be full of stories about the victims and survivors.  There will be wild speculation over who is responsible.  Tomorrow, I'm sure, names will start coming out.  A long ticker tape of the innocent.

In light of these events, I find myself struggling to find something about which to be thankful tonight.  I am thankful that my wife and kids are safe.  I'm thankful that I live in a place that's remote, protected.  Not that I think that I'm immune to tragedy in the Upper Peninsula.  I'm not.  But I don't have to worry about soldiers patrolling the streets of my hometown, toting automatic weapons.  My kids don't have to walk through metal detectors at school.  Most of my neighbors don't even lock their front doors at night.

Tomorrow, I will go to McDonald's for breakfast with my family.  In the afternoon, I will put up my Christmas tree with my daughter.  I will attend church in the afternoon and get pizza for dinner afterward.  Tomorrow night, I may watch It's a Wonderful Life.  My life is not a fairy tale, but I am, for the most part, happy.  Safe.

Saint Marty is living happily ever after.

41. (from Country:  an Organic Poem)

by:  D. H. Melhem

Education is out there,
                                        in the street, man--

I told you of the Beast, and Beauty, and that the Beast was how he saw himself, and was treated, although the handsome Prince within his skin was the virtue of his soul, and how Beauty approached with a single candle flickering away the dark to disclose the perfection of his blackness, and the drops of white tallow that burned him awake to his death by the stream where Beauty followed, and her tears upon him as she cried, "Ma Bete!"  And beneath those tears the loving Prince of his desire rose to embrace her as they were received by the stream that grew everywhere into its pervasive tributaries, nourishing the dessicated land.  And I wept, that the joyful Prince could not speak in you, that you feared and raged along the banks of your spirit, that you could feel upon your skin, as yet, only the tallow . . .

Off the Top of My Head

November 11: The War, Veterans Day, D. H. Melhem, "Salmon: The Seattle Aquarium," Off the Top of My Head

Then the war had come.  Exempted from active service because of bad hearing in one ear, from a time he had nearly drowned while swimming at Coney Island late one summer, he did his bit as a civilian employee with a unit of the Army Information Service out in Secaucus, New Jersey, where he worked for three years during the war, churning out instructional comics with titles like "Health Tips for the Lonesome G. I." and "Hygiene at Sea," pamphlets, and posters about everything from malaria to VD, dental hygiene to the practical necessity of using a condom during the act of love.  Every so often he was sent over to one of the military airfields, where he would spend many an hour in the open air painting inspirational insignia, cartoon characters, and movie stars on the fusilages of bombers and fighters--Betty Grable in a bathing suit one of his specialties...

Like many young men of his generation, when the United States enters World War II, Ives volunteers to serve in the army.  He wants to do his part to protect his country and the world from the threat of Germany and Japan.  When he isn't eligible for active duty, Ives still does his part for the war effort, using his artistic talents to help the war effort.  He is an honorable guy and does the honorable thing.

Today, in the United States, we celebrate Veterans Day.  It is a time set aside to honor and thank those people who have served in our military.  Free dinners are provided for veterans at restaurants.  School assemblies are held, commemorating the sacrifices of our service men and women.  Moments of silence are held.  It is a day of gratitude for the freedoms that all U. S. citizens enjoy and the people who have fought to preserve those freedoms.

Today, I am thankful for all the people who have put themselves in harm's way to defend the American way of life.  Granted, the United States is not a perfect country.  Far from it.  It is a work in progress.  Racism and inequality still exist within our borders.  Poverty and gun violence.  Yet, we can do something about these problems.  Protest.  Write blog posts.  Talk about them in classrooms.  Because we can, without fear of recrimination or punishment.  Thanks to our veterans.

Saint Marty salutes all these brave men and women, and he expresses his heartfelt thanks.

And now, for a poem about love and devotion (in a way)...

Salmon:  The Seattle Aquarium

by:  D. H. Melhem

Salmon have one love.
Sometimes swimming
fifteen hundred miles they
return to hail the Columbia River
give birth in their first waters
do the thing for which
they were crafted.  Salmon
are watched timewise
in the Aquarium.  Spawned
they swim overhead
in a circular
tank.  Are freed
by steps
to the sea.

Off the Top of My Head

November 10: Heavy Rains and Hail, Warm Weather, D. H. Melhem, "Last Day," Off the Top of My Head

Nodding, Paul rapped Ives on the shoulder and for a moment, as they stood near the wall overlooking the river, something benevolent and fleeting passed between them but neither said a word.  Then, as they started homeward, the sky began to darken; over the river, low to the horizon, a bank of bottom-heavy clouds, shaped like a man on his back.  Later, within the hour, there would be a storm and heavy rains and hail would begin to fall.

A chance meeting between Ives and Paul, a young man who will eventually marry Ives' daughter.  But I didn't pick this passage for the interaction between Paul and Ives.  I picked this passage because of the description of weather.  The dark clouds.  Rain and hail.

It is late, and I am quite tired.  So tired, in fact, that my head is aching and I'm having trouble focusing on the computer screen.  I have been awake since 4 a.m..  It is now pushing 11 p.m.  That's close to 15 hours of work and school and whatnot.  (See, I'm so tired that I can't even remember everything I've done today.)

I am thankful for the weather today.  It was warm and sunny.  A change is coming tomorrow--rain and cold and, later in the day, snow.  I am not thrilled by that last prediction.  I was kind of hoping for a dry November.  Doesn't look like that's going to happen.

Today, however, I am thankful for warm weather.  That's about all I got tonight. 

In a few minutes, Saint Marty is going to be thankful for his bed and pillows and blankets.

How about a poem about weather...

Last Day

by:  D. H. Melhem

Behind our cabin
cloud lay on the mountain
like a gray loaf
that thunder waits
to cut.

Off the Top of My Head

November 9: Poet of the Week, D. H. Melhem, "Nearing Glacier," "Ives" Dip, Off the Top of My Head

I am going to do something that I haven't done before right now.  I am going to choose a Poet of the Week that I know nothing about.  By the end of the week, I am hoping that I will have found a new favorite poet (I have many).

So, I have a box of poetry collections sitting on the floor of my university office.  The books were given to me by a friend and colleague who retired a couple years ago from the English Department.  On top of one of the stacks is a book titled Country:  An Organic Poem.  Its cover is beautiful, and, flipping through its pages, I find a couple of lines of poetry that are beautiful.  Like icicles in the sun.

D. H. Melhem is Saint Marty's Poet of the Week, and I'm going to start with this poem:

Nearing Glacier

by:  D. H. Melhem

Past Havre, past Butte, Montana
earth upon earth arises till
clouds are the range.

God in the mountains
indifferent to personal cries
talks eternity
to the clouds.

I'm a sucker for a poem that talks about eternity and God.  This poem is right up my alley.  The God here isn't really warm and fuzzy.  This God is like a famous writer you want to meet at a dinner party.  He stands by the shrimp plate, talking to a Yeats scholar, while you watch from across the room, questions about art and music boiling in your mind.

I always have tons of unanswered questions about death and poetry and the Kennedy assassination.  Lately, I have been dealing with questions like "Why did my sister die?" and "Why can't I provide better for my wife and children?" and "Will J. J. Abrams mess up Star Wars?"  You know, the BIG questions.

Yet, despite my struggles and frustrations today (and there is a fairly large list), I am thankful to have this office at the university.  I'm thankful to be able to stand in front of students and talk about subjects that I love.  I am thankful to be a teacher.

But, getting back to the J. J. Abrams question:

Is the new Star Wars movie going to be any good?

And the answer from Ives is:

And now, he thought, his boy was dead, and even if he were to rise, to be reincarnated in some other form, their lives would not be the same.

Yeesh, that doesn't sound very promising at all.  Reincarnation.  Star Wars in some other form.

Maybe Saint Marty should stay home on December 18.

Off the Top of My Head