Thought for the Week
This week's thought comes from none other than our Iowa correspondent and Man About Town, Loren R. Christensen. It is a piece of his poetry, which he has graciously allowed me to publish here first on Festung Europa, your source for the best in alternative thinking, where the answer to all questions is indeed yes...and no!
Before we get to his poem, I would like to do a bit of name dropping here in that I remember that our Man About Town was a poetry student under the great Mary Swander at Iowa State University in the late 1980's. (The question, perhaps, is does our Man About Town remember?) What was quite interesting then was that Iowa State, not necessarily known as a super liberal arts institution either then or now, actually had some outstanding staff in the English department at the time, including another great, Jane Smiley, who won the Pulitzer for A Thousand Acres. That reminds me of another anecdote I have which in a way represents the petty jealously common in the academy. Ken Madison, a stalwart but extremely cynical professor in the history department, after hearing of Smiley's achievement, made the comment in our medieval history lecture, "It's King Lear, folks!" which I guess is true, but still, Smiley's telling of the story in terms of an Iowa farm family is nonetheless compelling. Personally, however, I like Smiley's The Greenlanders and Moo better.
And so, without further ado, here is Loren's poem, entitled Of Dreams.
THE DREAMS OF THREE THOUSAND OF OUR FINEST,
THESE WINNERS OF HEARTS AND MINDS
LOST IN A SEA OF INSPIRATION DRIVEN, ON THE SAILS OF
THEIR CYNICAL MASTERS: OF BATTLES, BOMBS AND MINES.
ONCE THEY LAY IN GREEN PASTURES,
NOW OVERGROWN AND UNKEMPT.
THE DAYS AND WEEKS ON PRACTICE FIELDS A BITTER MEMORY
THEIR PARENTS LIVE TO FORGET.
ONE A LAWYER, ONE A DAD, ONE A FARMER,
ONE A SON, ONE AUNT, ONE A DAUGHTER.
A DAY, A NIGHT AND EVER AFTER
A SOUND IN THE MIND OF THEIR DEAREST SURVIVOR.
PEACE ONCE SO FAR IS CLOSE AND DEAR.
THE LOVED LOST, A PERFECT REFLECTION OF A LIFE NOT FULFILLED.
IN THE SOFT SEA OF ETERNITY EACH SOUL GIVES UNTO ITSELF
THAT PEACE ONCE TAUGHT THEM FROM A BOOK.
REST IN PEACE, BRAVE SOULS.
Before we get to his poem, I would like to do a bit of name dropping here in that I remember that our Man About Town was a poetry student under the great Mary Swander at Iowa State University in the late 1980's. (The question, perhaps, is does our Man About Town remember?) What was quite interesting then was that Iowa State, not necessarily known as a super liberal arts institution either then or now, actually had some outstanding staff in the English department at the time, including another great, Jane Smiley, who won the Pulitzer for A Thousand Acres. That reminds me of another anecdote I have which in a way represents the petty jealously common in the academy. Ken Madison, a stalwart but extremely cynical professor in the history department, after hearing of Smiley's achievement, made the comment in our medieval history lecture, "It's King Lear, folks!" which I guess is true, but still, Smiley's telling of the story in terms of an Iowa farm family is nonetheless compelling. Personally, however, I like Smiley's The Greenlanders and Moo better.
And so, without further ado, here is Loren's poem, entitled Of Dreams.
OF DREAMS
THE DREAMS OF THREE THOUSAND OF OUR FINEST,
THESE WINNERS OF HEARTS AND MINDS
LOST IN A SEA OF INSPIRATION DRIVEN, ON THE SAILS OF
THEIR CYNICAL MASTERS: OF BATTLES, BOMBS AND MINES.
ONCE THEY LAY IN GREEN PASTURES,
NOW OVERGROWN AND UNKEMPT.
THE DAYS AND WEEKS ON PRACTICE FIELDS A BITTER MEMORY
THEIR PARENTS LIVE TO FORGET.
ONE A LAWYER, ONE A DAD, ONE A FARMER,
ONE A SON, ONE AUNT, ONE A DAUGHTER.
A DAY, A NIGHT AND EVER AFTER
A SOUND IN THE MIND OF THEIR DEAREST SURVIVOR.
PEACE ONCE SO FAR IS CLOSE AND DEAR.
THE LOVED LOST, A PERFECT REFLECTION OF A LIFE NOT FULFILLED.
IN THE SOFT SEA OF ETERNITY EACH SOUL GIVES UNTO ITSELF
THAT PEACE ONCE TAUGHT THEM FROM A BOOK.
REST IN PEACE, BRAVE SOULS.
Comments
On the topic of Iowa State English Department faculty of the early 1980s, let us not forget one of my favorites; my textbook example of borderline personality disorder and ex-girlfriend Tama Baldwin. I say "let us not forget" in the same way which people say that those who forget history are condemned to repeat it, so please, please let us not forget Tama.
Now that the names Loren and Tama are crossing paths again, I feel compelled to relate a story from the year Tama and I lived together. It was a lovely spring afternoon, Tama (who harbored more than a little jealousy towards Jane Smiley because Jane had written an episode of "Thirty Something", this was well before "1000 Acres") was grading papers (naked) from her nonfiction creative writing class. The assignment had been to write about someone you know well. So she comes across this paper about a guy named Loren who was in a band, was FFA president, had lunch with the governor on occasion, and got all the girls. It was written with such grandiose praise that she began to wonder is it was made up. I took the paper, and after reading it pointed out that I knew Loren and yes, all that stuff was true. She belligerently added that it sounded like the author secretly wanted to fuck Loren, butI would not speculate on the homosexual fantasies of the penman. Don't sweat about that part, Loren. That misanthrope was a lousy judge of sexual character. As you all know, our relationship was not to last, and among the final nails in the coffin was her assertion that Mystic Master himself was gay. (?!?!?!?!?) Yup. Go try and figure that one out.
Years later and I, like Mystic Master another staunchly heterosexual member of the Stingray Regime, am trolling for porno on the International Network and who do I run across, making me an official member of that league of dirtbags who have found their ex-girlfriends in porn shots on the internet? Yup. It's Tama. Which I share with you now.
Loren, I don't know if this is what you had in mind when you offered that beautiful poem to Festung Europa, that beautiful dance of words so lovingly crafted with skills you honed so many years ago in Ross Hall, but here we are.
The circle is complete.
Gonar
Yes, I never had the opportunity to meet Tama, which after looking at the picture, I have a pang of regret. Just one pang, not numerous pangs mind you, and it is surprising that I never met her, considering that she is connected to me in the second-degree in not one but two relationships, namely your friendship, Gonar, and that of the late Kathleen Lynott. But that was after the Fall of Fortress Immacula and before the decadence and depravity of Victoriaville.
I wonder who wrote the paper about Loren? I actually wrote a paper about my good friend for my honors English 105 class in the fall of 1986, but that predates it. Perhaps the paper made its way into the Adelante file of tests and essays and some budding plagiarist decided to take the easy way out. Interesting, anyhow. My paper got an A+ (yes, actually with a plus) from professor John Hagee with a written question if he could make a copy of it, to which I answered in the affirmative. I also submitted a copy of this paper, among others, to my old H.S. English teacher, John Walker, for him to use in his senior creative writing class as examples of the expectations for college writing. Thus, there are a few ways that someone could have submitted my work in this case as their own.
Just for the record: I have never secretly wanted to fuck Loren, but I may be in the minority here.
The photo shall be posted soon, gentle readers, so stay tuned.
DMSR
Dance Music Sex Romance
P.S. Gentle reader, the pronunciation of the name, Tama, is "Tamma", not with a long "a" as in the Iowa Indian town of the same spelling.
P.P.S. This whole thing has got me thinking. I may see if John Walker still has a copy of this paper for posting here. He sent me a copy of a paper I wrote about my friend, Rathead, back in H.S. a few years ago, and likely still has a copy.
P.P.P.S. I have never secretly wanted to fuck Rathead; on this subject I am surely in the majority.
But for the record, I never wanted to fuck Loren, just fuck with him.
Like I said, it was one of the final nails in the coffin, and when death finally came it was one sweet release, let me tell you. I doubt that she actually believed what she said herself, it was very likely just another one of her evil schemes to divide me from the Realm of Stingray. Never, ever mess with The Realm.
Jim
P.S. "Loren, we're not fucking AT you, we're fucking WITH you!" CM, 1990