Hope Is the Thing With Feathers

I loved Elizabeth's Christmas card this year, which contained a quote from Emily Dickinson. It reminded me of a Billy Collins poem I was just reading, so I'll give them both to you.

She said--

Hope is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops – at all—

And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
And sore must be the storm—
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm—

I’ve heard it in the chillest land—
And on the strangest Sea—
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of Me.

Emily Dickinson

He said--

Taking Off Emily Dickinson’s Clothes

First, her tippet made of tulle,
easily lifted off her shoulders and laid
on the back of a wooden chair.

And her bonnet,
the bow undone with a light forward pull.

Then the long white dress, a more
complicated matter with mother-of-pearl
buttons down the back,
so tiny and numerous that it takes forever
before my hands can part the fabric,
like swimmer’s dividing water,
and slip inside.

You will want to know
that she was standing
by an open window in an upstairs bedroom,
motionless, a little wide-eyed,
looking out at the orchard below,
the white dress puddled at her feet
on the wide-board, hardwood floor.

The complexity of women’s undergarments
in nineteenth-century America
is not to be waved off,
and I proceeded like a polar explorer
through clips, clasps, and moorings,
catches, straps, and whalebone stays,
sailing toward the iceberg of her nakedness.

Later, I wrote in a notebook
it was like riding a swan into the night,
but, of course, I cannot tell you everything—
the way she closed her eyes to the orchard,
how her hair tumbled free of its pins,
how there were sudden dashes
whenever we spoke.

What I can tell you is
it was terribly quiet in Amherst
that Sabbath afternoon,
nothing but a carriage passing the house,
a fly buzzing in a windowpane.

So I could plainly hear her inhale
when I undid the very top
hook-and-eye fastener of her corset

and I could hear her sigh when finally it was unloosed,
the way some readers sigh when they realize
that Hope has feathers,
that Reason is a plank,
that Life is a loaded gun
that looks right at you with a yellow eye.

Billy Collins

Christmas Cards

I finally finished addressing, signing, and stamping my Christmas cards.

It started weeks ago, when I reviewed the cards for sale at Border's Books, and fell in love with one particular box of cards. Unfortunately, it was the most expensive box on the table, there were only 10 cards in a box, and at the rate I send cards, I'd have needed 6 boxes. So I put them back, and settled for a lessor card at a more affordable price.

Last weekend I attempted to use mail merge to do Christmas labels. I only do mail merge once a year, so I have to re-learn it every year. This year I was a slower than usual learner. It kept merging names with both the personal and business addresses on the same label, or with parts of each address. It frustrated me to the point that I convinced myself to skip the printed labels and hand write the 60 envelopes. Chance to use nice fountain pen. More personal anyhow.

Today, I un-boxed the cards and discovered that the envelopes were silver - slick and gun-metal gray and pretty much as tacky as a K-Mart nightgown. The fountain pen wouldn't even write on the slickness.

Back to mail merge. I figured I could hide some of the silver gray with white labels. I mail merged again, and finally just went through each label and deleted the un-wanted bits of address to get something usable. Only then my printer wouldn't work. Something about re-installing drivers.

Having thrown the cards in the trash along with the ugly slick envelopes, I went up to the CVS Pharmacy to buy more. I had a $4 off coupon even. Well the CVS cards were cheap and they looked it, but at least the envelopes were white. After 20 minutes of agonizing I picked 3 boxes that were the less tacky than the others, picked up 2 cans of mixed nuts as a consulation for myself, paid and came home. Taking into account the price of the nuts, I could have bought the cards I wanted to start with. Well, live and learn.

Since the CVS cards came 18 to a box instead of 20, I had to cut some people from the list, and that was hard, but not impossible.

I found myself asking, why am I still sending cards to people I haven't seen in 20 years, and didn't even like 20 years ago when I did see them? Ken and Darlene, this means you. Will my husband's brother's wife's father and step-mother be angry not to receive a card from me? Will my sister? I'm sorry Kaye, since you ran away with the guy from rehab, I don't have your address. I'll have to wait until you send me a card so I can reply. I tried to knock a few more folks off, but my husband insisted they were close friends of his. Not so close that he wanted to write a note in their cards, you understand, but too close to drop.

I did put notes in a few cards, but didn't do the news letter thing. What could I say? We're all fine except for the kidney failure thing, the enlarged heart, the panic attacks, and the seizures? Oh yes, and we had the cat put to sleep last summer? I colored my gray hair, but I still get offered the senior citizen discount on a regular basis, and I have another 5 years until I can retire?

My husband says I stress too much over the holidays. We shopped, we got the lights up, we put a tree in the bay window, and stuck some greenery on top of the armoire. We should relax today. He's right. Nobody cares what Christmas cards I send out. I love to get cards from people, no matter what the cards look like. I'm surprised and appreciative that people remember me. I even love Christmas news letters.

On Friday, my daughter will be home for the holidays, and I'll be cheerful again, I promise.

Lending Books

He said--

Lending Out Books

Hal Sirowitz

You’re always giving, my therapist said.
you have to learn how to take. Whenever
you meet a woman, the first thing you do
is lend her your books. You think she’ll
have to see you again in order to return them.
But what happens is, she doesn’t have the time
to read them, & she’s afraid if she sees you again
you’ll expect her to talk about them, & will
want to lend her even more. So she
cancels the date. You end up losing
a lot of books. You should borrow hers.

She said--

Your Best Friend's Reading List

Sometimes The Glass is Half Full

He said:



Life is no straight and easy corridor along
Which we travel free and unhampered,
But a maze of passages,
Through which we must seek our way,
Lost and confused, now and again
Checked in a blind alley.

But always, if we have faith,
A door will open for us,
Not perhaps one that we ourselves
Would ever have thought of,
But one that will ultimately
Prove good for us.

A.J. Cronin





She said:



Sometimes

Sometimes things don’t go, after all,
from bad to worse. Some years, mucadel
faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don’t fail,
sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.

A people sometimes will step back from war;
elect an honest man; decide they care
enough, that they can’t leave a stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.

Sometimes our best efforts do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen: may it happen for you.

Sheenagh Pugh

A Penny Saved Is Impossible

I was supposed to blog, but I didn't until today because I was busy painting my office and having a new driveway put in.

The office is a color called "buttercream" which is lovely, and always kind of makes me hungry. I have new office furniture coming. Actually the enormous, glass-fronted, solid oak bookcase is already here. And the beautiful solid oak, Stickley-manufactured desk is on order and probably won't arrive until after Christmas. Did you know Stickley still made furniture? It's incredibly nice stuff if you go for the Mission style. It's also pretty expensive, but hey, I'm worth a little loveliness, aren't I?

The driveway was $6300 - not cheap either. But the old concrete drive lasted 40 years, so I'm expecting this one to out-live me. The concrete guys were very professional - quick and organized - and they cleaned up after themselves nicely. The driveway looks good.

All of this is leading up to my poems of the day:

He said --

A Penny Saved Is Impossible

The further through life I drift
The more obvious it becomes that I am lacking in thrift.
Now thrift is such a boon to its possessor that years ago they began to tax it,
But it is a bane to him that lacks it
Because if you lack it your will go into a shoppe and pay two dollars for a gifte.
But if you possess it you find something just as good for a dollar fifte.
A penny is merely something that you pull several of out of your pocket before you find the nickel you need for a telephone call, if thriftlessness is in your blood,
Whereas to the thrifty a penny is something to be put out at stud.
Thrifty people put two-cent stamps on letters addressed to a three-cent zone,
And thriftless people on the other end pay the postage due and the thrifty people chuckle and rub their hands because the saving on every six letters represents a year’s interest on a dollar loan.
Oh that I were thrifty, because thrifty people leave estates to delight their next of kin with;
Oh that I were thrifty, because then not only would I have money in the bank to pay my bills, but I could leave the money in the bank because I wouldn’t have run up the bills to begin with;
Oh that I were not a spendthrift, oh then would my heart indeed be gladsome,
Because it is so futile being a spendthrift because I don’t know any places where thrift could be spent even if I had some.

Ogden Nash

She said --

Barter

Life has loveliness to sell,
All beautiful and splendid things,
Blue waves whitened on a cliff,
Soaring fire that sways and sings,
And children's faces looking up,
Holding wonder like a cup.

Life has loveliness to sell,
Music like the curve of gold,
Scent of pine trees in the rain,
Eyes that love you, arms that hold,
And for your spirit's still delight,
Holy thoughts that star the night.

Spend all you have for loveliness,
Buy it and never count the cost;
For one white singing hour of peace
Count many a year of strife well lost,
And for a breath of ecstasy
Give all you have been, or could be.

Sara Teasdale