Happy Birthday, Mr. Stafford

Yesterday, I went to a birthday party for William Stafford at the Vancouver Community Library. My mom (brand-new to Stafford and to poetry in general) came with me. I think by the end of the nearly two-hour event, she was a convert. :)

There were between 25-30 people in attendance (a great turnout, I thought), and Stafford's wife Dorothy was there too . . . the picture of class at 95 years old in pearl earrings and perfectly coiffed white hair, she stood and read a poem that she wrote in response to one he had written many years ago. That poem was about her, and in it, he talked about the things he liked: in colors, he preferred gray & brown, in landscapes, the prairie, in people, calm personalities. Then he described his wife as a "vivid girl from the mountains", who asked him why he had chosen her if those were the things he liked. In the last line of the poem, he says, "there are so many things admirable people do not understand." She grinned like a little girl as she read her rebuttal to his poem. She said she liked crazy, wild people, preferred the mountains and the color orange, and married a quiet, gray man from the prairie who asked why she had then chosen him. As she read the last line, her eyes sparkled, "there are so many things poets do not understand." It was very, very sweet and of course the room erupted in applause.

About ten of us got up one at a time to read a Stafford poem for the group. I chose this one:

"For You"

It is a secret still, but already your tree is chosen.

It has entered a forest for miles

and hides deep in a valley by a river.

No one else finds it; the sun passes over not noticing.

But even while you are reading

you happen to think of that tree,

no matter where sentences go,

talking about other things.

The author tries to be casual,

to turn from the secret.

But you know exactly what is out there.

You set forth alone.

It reminds me of someone I hope to meet one day soon.

After the readings, a short film was shown called "Every War Has Two Losers," which talks about Stafford's lifelong identity as a pacifist and asks some very probing questions about what we believe as individuals and as Americans, and about what we would be willing to do.

I'm not sure if I left with exactly the type of optimism and renewed vigor I'd hoped I would have after attending a Stafford event. Mostly, it left me wanting more.

This afternoon, while I was surfing the net, trying to find a particular poem, I came across this poster on someone else's poetry blog. I had to laugh because even though I'm sure it was meant as a joke, the message comes across: "You are at your peril if you miss this."

I am so glad I did not go through my entire life without having read at least some of his poems.

William Stafford: A Bright Light in my Life

Some of you may have guessed (from my many Facebook posts) that William Stafford has become a favorite poet of mine over the last few years . . . you may not know that lately I feel like he has become a sort of posthumous mentor.

I first came across a snippet from one of his poems when I was attending Western Oregon State College (now University) in Monmouth. I believe it was during my freshman year, probably in one of the Honors program classes. My memory gets a little fuzzy as I can't figure out exactly how that first bit of poem made it to me: my best guess is that it was in a book the class was reading, and in conjunction with the book, the professor showed a film of an interview with Stafford about his life and writings. All I remember for certain is that it moved me so much that I never forgot it. I found out later it's from a poem called "Things in the Wild Need Salt."

Once in a cave a little bar of light

fell into my hand. The walls leaned over me.

I carried it outside to let the stars look;

They peered in my hand. Stars are like that.

Do not be afraid--I no longer carry it.

But when I see a face now, splinters of that light

fall and won't go out, no matter how faint

the buried star shines back there in the cave.

It is in the earth wherever I walk.

It is in the earth wherever I walk.

In the film, Stafford said something that made so much sense to me that I scrawled it on the cover of my battered teal folder: "That writer writes too loud." I came across it the other day and had to smile because what the girl who copied that quote didn't know was just how important the man who said it would become in her life, both as a writer and as a human being. I likely took that class in 1994, which would have been a year or so after his death. What a shame I wasn't born a decade or two earlier--I might have had the heart-stopping honor of being his student or seeing him read his poetry in front of groups both large and small. While I feel so happy to have discovered his work and the chance to learn more about him, at the same time I feel like I just missed him. Discovering those lines of poetry unfortunately didn't inspire me to read more of Stafford's work at the time--I was busy being a college student and making the transition from child to young adult, although in retrospect, it was a time in my life when his words were sorely needed.


It wasn't until I took a nonfiction creative writing course a few years ago at Portland Community College that I was reintroduced to William Stafford. One morning our instructor handed out slips of paper printed with a Stafford poem. The college was celebrating his birthday and everyone was invited to attend. I read the poem ("You Reading This, Be Ready")--and felt the floor drop out beneath me.


Starting here, what do you want to remember?
How sunlight creeps along a shining floor?
What scent of old wood hovers, what softened
sound from outside fills the air?

Will you ever bring a better gift for the world
than the breathing respect that you carry
wherever you go right now? Are you waiting
for time to show you some better thoughts?


When you turn around, starting here, lift this
new glimpse that you found; carry into evening
all that you want from this day. This interval you spent
reading or hearing this, keep it for life--

What can anyone give you greater than now,
starting here, right in this room, when you turn around?


Here were words that spoke to something deep within me and addressed my fears and my regrets as if they were written just for me. Although I couldn't go to the birthday celebration because of a work conflict, this time my curiosity was piqued and I began to seek more of his words.

I bought a compilation of poems taken from among his many, many published volumes. It's called The Way it Is, and I would recommend it most highly if you have any interest in poetry whatsoever. I would also recommend it if you are stirred by words put down simply, without a lot of fanfare, but with piercing honesty. Pick up a book of his poems and you'll see what I mean.

Many of you know that the last couple of years have not been easy for me. I have struggled and a large part of what has saved me (and continues to save me) is Stafford's work. I read his words and feel like I am less alone--someone else (someone I never met and a man, no less), gets it. His poems tell me that he has been in my shoes. He has been sad, worried, angry, despairing. But he has also seen beauty in everyday things. He recognizes that each of us is not defined by our acts, our accomplishments or our possessions, but by a mostly hidden, inner world of thoughts and dreams. When he was alive, he encouraged everyone, his family, friends, students and readers, to say it simply, but to say it--to continue to put voice to their thoughts--not for any hope of fanfare or recognition, but for themselves alone.


Stafford has encouraged me to begin writing steadily again, and I have. I have been writing what I never considered writing before: poetry. In my search to express my feelings, I have discovered that saying it simply in lines of poetry works for me. There is one poem in particular that I wrote less than a month ago that I know "works." And the way I know that it works is because my eyes fill with tears each time I say its lines in my head. It is something I wrote for no one but myself in the beginning, but maybe one day someone else in a similar situation will be helped by it, and I will be glad for that.

The beginning of the new year hasn't been terribly exciting for me. I haven't felt hopeful that wonderful things are in store for me in 2011, and last weekend I was really feeling a deep sense of futility. So I headed for the library (and later Powell's bookstore) in search of comfort and encouragement. I was looking for books by Marie Howe (another fantastic poet whom I have recently discovered), and one about William Stafford's life, written by his son, Kim, who is also a writer. As I headed up the stairs to the poetry section, a flier caught my eye. It was an announcement of a birthday celebration in honor of Stafford's life and work. Two local poets (one was Ursula K. LeGuin) would be reading some of their work and some of Stafford's, and then each person in the audience was invited to read a favorite Stafford poem. A sense of excitement swelled within me. This was just what I needed to start my new year; this event could possibly shift my mindset and give me the encouragement I was seeking. And then I saw the date and time: the event had started that day, two hours earlier. I had missed it.

I left the library feeling angry and sad. How could I have missed something so important? Why was I not going to the library more often where I might have had some advance warning? Why had I not gone earlier in the day as planned, instead of doing other things I "needed" to get done? I headed for Powell's and felt a little better when I found one of Howe's books at a reasonable price and also the latest issue of The Sun (I was late renewing my subscription, and wouldn't be receiving the January issue, but luckily found out that Powell's carries it). Yet I headed for home still wrapped in gloom at having missed the Stafford event.

The Beaverton library didn't have the Stafford book I was looking for, but the Hillsboro public library was supposed to have a copy on hand. My new job is located almost next door to that library and all week at work I planned to go there over my lunch hour, but it never happened. I left work last night at 6pm, and thought I'd swing over there before heading home to see if they might be open and have the book. I was in luck in more ways than one: I found the book right away and carried it carefully to the self-checkout machines, feeling like I was holding a treasure (Book lovers, I know some or all of you must feel the same way when you leave a library or a bookstore with some new find, full of a sense of possibility and discovery. You feel like a child about to unwrap a present--am I right?).


On my way out the door, another flier caught my attention. In large print, it advertised William Stafford's birthday celebration, listing 23 different venues in the Portland and Vancouver area that would be hosting celebrations during the entire month of January. (To read an article about Portland-area celebrations, click here.) I kept re-reading the dates to confirm that no, I had not missed them, and yes, there were a multitude of events I could choose to attend. Suddenly, I was filled with joy. Here was my chance (chances!) to convene with other Stafford devotees, to hear his work read, to learn more about his life from people who had known and worked with him, and maybe to share one of my favorites of his poems during the open mic part of the event. How wonderful.

I started my weekend with some of the excitement for the new year that I felt had been lacking
in my life . . . now to decide which event to attend . . . or to attend as many as I possibly can and see what miracles happen in my life this year--both as a writer and as a person on this earth.

My Cousin Roni and her Husband, Gary

Last Saturday, Michael and I drove to east Portland to have lunch with my cousin, Roni, and her husband, Gary. It was only the second time that Roni and I had seen each other as adults, since I didn't have much contact with my father's family when I was growing up. Besides that, until recently, Roni and Gary were living in Montana and there hadn't really been much opportunity for us to visit one another. We have gotten to know each other a bit thanks to the miracle of Facebook :) and it has been wonderful to discover a kindred spirit in her: she has a background as a writer and she loves the outdoors, as I do.

Roni and her husband run marathons together, which I think is just about the most amazing thing. They love backpacking and are game for a day of snowshoeing with us--which is probably the only way we are ever going to get ours out of the package and onto the snow (seeing as they are now about 3 years old and have spent their entire lives hanging out in our garage).

It really was wonderful to see Roni and Gary and find out more things about each other . . . and now that they are planning to be in Oregon for awhile, I am looking forward to summer hikes and backpacking trips with them as well. :)

Christmas! (And New Year's) Catch-Up

It certainly feels like the holidays came in a big rush, swept over me and now have receded into the background until next year. I think this may have something to do with starting my new job, as I was so busy during the week leading up to Christmas that I had little time or energy to spend enjoying the season. It's a bit sad, but hopefully next year things won't be quite as hectic.

One good thing about starting the new job is that Michael and I (finally!) had the same holiday schedule, and we both had Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve off from work. Usually I end up working both days, and in the past I have worked on New Year's day too. So it was nice to spend a little time together. Christmas Eve we raced around finishing up our shopping, but still made time to stop by two music shops in search of the guitar Michael has his sights on: a Les Paul Standard Plus Top Amber. He ended up ordering it from Five Star Guitars in Beaverton (a small shop that always feels crowded but is staffed by really good guitar players), and then we decided to check out American Music Company in Tigard just to see what they might have--can you tell that he really wanted it for Christmas? ;) The second store is much larger, being part of a chain, and felt less hectic than Five Star. A very knowledgeable employee talked shop with Michael and let him play a beautiful Les Paul guitar much like the one he ordered but with a smoky gray finish instead of amber. It's called a "Silverburst," which I think is a fantastic name. Michael loved its sound and looked so happy playing it. I'm excited for him!

We spent a quiet evening at home that night, exhausted from our day of shopping, but happy to be together at Christmas. The next day, my parents arrived at our house at noon, bringing bags of gifts and food and it really began to feel festive! We spent the next few hours playing Santa for each other and preparing a delicious meal of pineapple ham, baby red potatoes, green beans in tomato sauce (a childhood favorite for me), rolls and both apple pie and gingerbread for dessert. None of us were starving when we sat down to dinner in the first place, having snacked on a Costco veggie tray as well as assorted crackers and cheeses during the previous few hours. I went off of my diet (again!) and ate almost an entire wedge of Brie all on my own. I paid for it later, but boy, was it ever the most wonderful thing at the time. :)

The next week was another extremely busy one at work, as I tried hard to learn the ropes and keep up with the projects asked of me, and before I knew it, Michael and I were off again for New Year's Eve. It was a much calmer day for us, spent together mostly at home with a trip out to Costco and to REI thrown in for good measure. We got chicken teriyaki take-out and spent the evening watching Netflix and trying to stay awake until midnight (can you tell we are not as young as we used to be? ;) ). We tried our hands at recreating the most fabulous pear martini I had when we were in New York a year and a half ago. It was made with Grey Goose vodka (holy cow, is it ever expensive!), but we settled for Absolut pear vodka. When we tried making them at Christmas, we added champagne to the vodka but realized that we need to find some that isn't too dry, or the combination of flavors is just way too strong. Instead of champagne, we tried the vodka with some sparkling pear juice and found that combo to be quite nice: not too strong and with a pleasant taste. I haven't figured out how to get it as smooth as the one I had in New York, but maybe it's impossible to recreate it exactly without knowing what type of champagne they used. I think there were one or two other ingredients as well, and I have to find the note I made from that trip in order to get a more precise recipe. Regardless, it's fun experimenting, and if it's too strong for me, Michael will drink it. ;)

New Year's Day we had Michael's sister Christy, and her kids Ryan and Jessica over for snacks and video games. They wanted to try out the Kinect that we recently got for the Xbox. Christy's husband Dean joined us after he got off of work, and Michael went out for a couple of Papa Murphy's pizzas to bake at home. I made my own gluten-free pizza from a mix I got at Whole Foods, and I was really very impressed with how it turned out. The mix made two crusts and I froze one so I could have a quick and easy dinner the next week. For sauce I used some Trader Joe's spaghetti sauce, and added sun-dried tomatoes, yellow pepper, broccoli, olives, feta cheese, and some fresh basil leaves. It was extremely good! The crust tasted "healthy" but it wasn't bad, just different than regular pizza crust. Next time I'd like to get the different ingredients that make up the flour and try making it totally from scratch instead of using a mix.
It was nice seeing Dean, Christy and the kids and catching up with all of them. Of course Ryan and Jessica fell in love with the Kinect and would have happily stayed playing it all night . . . it was fun watching how involved with it they were. Hopefully, we'll be able to get together again soon!

Our holiday season was a mixture of rushing and resting, and while it was over far too quickly, it was very enjoyable. Wishing you a wonderful start to 2011. May it be a fabulous year for all of us!

Being Thankful, Part 2

Michael and I celebrated a second Thanksgiving last Sunday. Since we didn't see my parents on the actual holiday, we decided it would be fun to get together with them at our house. Dad made a turkey which was incredibly moist and Mom made her famous cranberry jello salad with chunks of celery, pineapple and nuts. I tried out a stuffed mushroom recipe from my new cookbook and also a hummus recipe. We spent a lazy afternoon sitting around sipping wine and snacking on appetizers and just enjoying each other's company.

And I was reminded of how much I enjoy just being with my family and of how true it is that the best things in life aren't things.

Flynn Again

Flynn and I just got back from our trip to the vet, but didn't learn much about why he's suddenly not interested in his food.

The vet said that he doesn't have a fever, his abdomen isn't tender and his teeth look fine. He said we could do some bloodwork to see if there's a problem with his kidneys or his pancreas, or we can just wait and watch to see if any more symptoms arise. The other idea (and one that seems most likely to me) is that it's related to Flynn's doggie dementia. The vet described it as a switch being flipped in Flynn's brain that is now making him more picky about eating. This theory was strengthened when, at the end of the exam, the vet offered Flynn a couple of doggie treats. Flynn sniffed them, then turned his head away. I pulled a different type of treat out of my pocket and he gobbled it right up.

"Well," the vet said, "he certainly knows what he wants." I had to laugh because the old Flynn would not have been so discerning. To him, a treat was a treat--anything edible was a treat for that matter. It seems we now have a picky eater on our hands. But if that's all it is, I'll take it and be glad.

Flynn

Michael and I have noticed for several months now that Flynn has been slowing down. When he first came to us nearly a year ago last January, he had enough energy to walk with us all the way over to the Dog Park which is probably a good 1 1/2 miles round trip (depending on how many times we would walk around the park). He walked right next to us and lagged behind only a bit and only on the return home.

What we noticed first was Flynn getting tired after just a short walk through our neighborhood. Then we noticed increasing stiffness in his back legs & difficulty getting up from a lying or sitting down position. Lately taking him to the vet has both of us holding our breaths, hoping Flynn will be able to get in and out of the backseat. He can get his front legs up on the seat but we have to lift his back legs the rest of the way in--he just doesn't have the strength to jump in anymore. When he gets out, he totters at the edge of the seat, peering at the ground and what I imagine is trying to judge the distance between the two. I don't think his depth perception is that great anymore, especially at night, which is when we usually take him to the vet. I have taken to bringing treats with me and bribing (I mean encouraging) him to make the leap so he can have a treat.

In September and October we noticed another change. Flynn began having frequent accidents in the house, which was odd, but not the oddest thing. What I found baffling was that he would be fine all day by himself while we were at work, but on the weekends he would have accidents after just being out a couple of hours prior. It didn't seem reasonable that he was doing it on purpose to spite us . . . the only thing I could think of was that he sleeps all day when we're gone & doesn't have the chance to have an accident because he's asleep. When we're around, he's awake more often & thus finds the need to go out more often. Now we basically put him out each time he gets up after he's been lying down for awhile--just in case.

We took him to the vet for this one about 3 weeks ago and the vet's thought was that he might have the beginnings of canine dementia. So now Flynn takes a pill once a day (nestled in a tasty pill pocket) and the number of accidents has decreased, which could be due to the pill, or could be due to the food we switched him to which seems to cause him to poop less.

The other big change in Flynn just within the past few months is that he has lost a significant amount of weight. When he was at the vet in June he weighed nearly 80 pounds and when we took him in September he weighed 70 pounds--quite a loss in only 3 months.

And within the past few days, he has slowed down on the amount he is eating. He normally eats twice a day & gobbles up anything that lands in his food dish. Now he barely eats 1 serving of food--and I have started bribing him (again!) with treats mixed in with it. It's possible he may have picked up a flu bug when he was at the kennel last week over Thanksgiving, but he's not acting sick. When I come home from work each day, he wags his tail like crazy and frisks about, welcoming me back. He still gulps down treats and he's drinking a ton of water as usual.

So today--Saturday--I am taking Flynn to the vet to see if they can figure out why he doesn't want to eat. I'm hoping that it's something simple, but taking into account all of his other changes, I just don't know.