Uncle Henry Torments Deacon Wayne Just A Little

From the archives:  a fictional vignette

Uncle Henry was crazy, that's what Deacon Wayne said. And Henry had a few odd ways about him, in a sublime sort of New England way.

When he worked on his truck, he’d take a brown paper bag and roll it up until it was about six inches deep. Then he'd jam it down over the top of his head to protected his hair from any oil that might drip down from the chaise. When he was done fiddling with the engine, he'd forget to take it off. He'd stroll up the back stairs and wander in through the kitchen doors to where Aunt May was just pouring tea for the Ladies Garden Guild. He'd stride in with that bag on his head, grab Aunt May and kiss her on the cheek, then help himself to the cookies she was serving up with tea. Aunt May didn't mind. But it got all over town that Henry wore a brown bag instead of a hat. It was that sort of thing that made folks wonder about him.

One day Deacon Wayne stopped by the house about a blueberry pie Aunt May was baking for the church bake sale. Henry came upstairs to see who had arrived for tea. Naturally he had a bag on his head. Deacon Wayne pointed at it and announced that it was prideful to be odd. Uncle Henry said Deacon Wayne was prideful enough for both of them since he was so proud of being humble. Deacon Wayne choked and tea came leaking out from between his lips unexpectedly. The Deacon sniffed and poked at his mouth with a paper napkin then blew his nose. Said he was doing the Lord's work and that he'd just be about it now if Henry and May didn't mind. He stuffed the napkin in his pocket, snatched up May's pie and headed for the door.

"If that fuzzy old man you call OUR father wanted us all the same - don't you think he could have managed it hisself?" Henry hollered as Deacon hurried away down the walk. Then he noticed the Deacon's hat sitting on the radiator under the window. He opened the door and tossed it across the lawn like a Frisbee. The Deacon scrambled after his hat with the pie balanced precariously, all the while praying out loud that the Lord should bless him and save him from Uncle Henry.

--- Mar Walker, 2006

Chris August at White Plains Library

This past Wednesday, (10/5/2011) I headed over to the first Wed. poetry and Zorkslam event at the White Plains Library. I read in the open mic, one poem "Travel Ready."  The highlight of the night for me was the feature Chris August, a teacher, and a touring poet from the D.C. area who has a wildly vigorous performance style. I really loved it. He gets his whole body involved, like a dance....

Some surprises always at an open mic

It's hard to know what open mic to attend. Lately they are multiplying.  This week I stayed close to home. I went to Molten Java's Thursday open mic which is run by J.D.Hull, shown iabove (on the right)

He opened the night as host, followed by Mr. Happy Cloud, Sean Ward who's quirky delivery is always jars my stodgy brain into writing poems. There was a rapper poet, a duet by some teen-agers, and  a number of other acts. I did three originals this week (Blow me away, Love Makes You Free, and The Marigold Song). Then a young fella named Luke in a plaid shirt came to the mic. He sounded pretty good. JD closed the night and during his last set a woman from the audience who'd been working on a laptop all evening, on the spur of the moment asked for song she knew. (She is on the left in the photo at the top.) Then she got up and sang it and sounded great! She is shown above. Don't know any names this week. If you do, add them in a comment below.

POEM: The Situation

The situation

1
Forget the map
I don't want your location
and I already know where I stand

2
No high heels
Table dancing is out for now
I won't break my neck for your amusement

3
I'm done auditioning
pouring out my depth
You say it's the best ever, but I don't look the part

4
Finally, polite subservience is over rated too
I no longer care about your orders
or your wishes, I can't be bothered
imagining you have my welfare at heart

5
Job applications?
I am too complicated, odd and old
for the inhuman resource raptors to approve
and I can no longer hide my amusement
when contemplating where I'll be in 5 years

      --- Mar (Mistryel) Walker

At Molten Java's mic: Nicholas Wells and group

I was really weary Thursday night and decided to stay close to home. I headed for Molten Java in Bethel, and among other folks at the open mic, I heard a really tasty ensemble before I left at 9:30. The singer-songwriter (on the right) is Nicholas Wells. He has a good voice and interesting material, well put together. He also had two very good players with him, and though I don't know their names, they really added a wonderful intricacy to his material. The skillful violin was always weaving around in a very organic way and the base anchored everything, kept it honest. Nice work all of you.

Double Bill at Hideaway last Saturday: McMahon & Smith

Saturday there was some good sound down at the Hideaway.  Jeff Smith opened and Shannon McMahon ended the night. Both have strong, emotive voices that really communicate, as well as finesse at the guitar. I enjoyed the listening. The Guatemalan coffee was pretty good too.  Both players have tunes online: http://shannonmcmahonmusic.com and  http://myspace.com/jeffsmithexperience.com

Rev Bill, from Worchester way shares poems

Last week "Rev." Bill MacMillan, a national slammer, poet and most especially a human being interested in what happens to fellow humans - featured at the Wednesday Night Poetry Series in Newtown, CT.

Until recently he was slammaster of the Worchester Poetry Slam.  Among the many wonderful poems he presented in Newtown were two items I found particularly interesting for my own hair-brained reasons. The first was a poem called "Reentry (for Larry Walters)" which is about a guy dubbed Lawn Chair Larry, who apparently many years ago, launched himself to 16,000 feet while sitting in a lawn chair dangling from some hot air balloons.  I'd never heard this true tale before. It really is an amazing story of human endeavor and eccentricity!

Besides Larry himself, lawn chairs are peculiar items, colorful and odd. When I lived in North Conway, I believe there was a summer parade featuring a precision marching troupe which slung aluminum lawn chairs around in maneuvers the way Marines might sling their weapons. Another point for lawn chairs. Amazing. I also have a poem titled "I Sing the Lawn Chair Electric" (see the poems page for a video of that one), though riding one airborne was certainly not what I had in mind when I wrote it....

The other item that knocked my socks off was a "last will" poem called "A Humble Request"  MacMillan said he handed it to his attorney and said "Make it so...."  It bans services and memorials in favor of a bon voyage party, requests the singing of the Monte Python song "Always Look on The Brighter Side," and the distribution of his ashes to everyone in tiny vials with a long list of interesting places they might be scattered. All excellent notions and quite similar to a half written will I have on hand. He carries it a bit farther though than I did and I really like where it ended up with a final request on how we should "be yourselves, be the people I knew and loved," and to move on and live on with joy.

Both poems can be found in his chapbook Searching for DB Cooper, which has many other gems. Check out his facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/pages/Rev-Bill-MacMillan/169733419736107

My Dad's Truck had Molten Jumpin' Again

On Saturday, September 10, I got to hear one of my favorite local groups. It's always a happy night when you get to hear My Dad's Truck, a Danbury based trio comprised of Susan Lang, Leif Smith, Bill Wisnowski. They play what they call "Free Range Acoustic," which is a wonderfully flavorful description of the smorgesborg of sound they offer. They have a great fan base of regulars who attend their gigs also.

"My Dad's Truck performs with rich harmonies, diverse instrumentation, and an improvisational spirit. All of the members play multiple instruments, which include percussion from around the world, bluegrass instruments, assorted reeds and horns, ukulele, accordion, guitarron (a fretless Mexican bass), acoustic-electric bass, mandolin, mandola, and, of course, guitar."

-- from their Facebook fan page  

For 9/11 - Never forget.. to go on living

(Video is from the http://www.youtube.com/user/JBransVideo Youtube channel.)

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Never forget has become the patriotic watchword of the aftermath of 9/11.  At this ten year anniversary I think we as a nation, desparately need to refine that idea.

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If by never forgetting you mean - always having in your mind the fresh memory of trauma, loss and vulnerability then I say - now, after ten years, it's time to begin to forget - not our beloved lost, but our fear and anger.

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But if by "never forget," you mean: take a lesson and go forward with courage, with prudent preparation, endure this all and rise to find joy once again and to live life freely as if no terrorist had ever touched you, then by all means - go forward, remembering, but growing, going on to a renewed life.  I think a perfect example is the memorial on site in New York. There is incredible beauty, and ongoing life in the presence and movement of that cascading water pouring down into the footprint of ground zero. It's a fitting, beautiful tribute and remembrance of those lost.

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Unexpected results

Sometimes, you take a picture and get odd results. This photo, if you tip it landscape fashion, is actually of the side of a car with an ascending asphalt driveway, all bathed in sun and shadow. With a little tweaking, not much, the pavement turned to purple which contrasted nicely with the reflections of trees in the window. I like it much better tipped on its side - because it removes the visual cues and it makes it easier to see as an abstract composition.