Jack Underwood

In his essay, “On Poetry and Uncertain Subjects,” Jack Underwood quotes excerpts from Anne Stevenson’s “A Lament for the Makers.” I couldn’t find Stevenson’s poem online.  I liked what Underwood quoted and began to search around to get access to the rest of the poem.

Anne Stevenson

I had several hits when I searched on the local library online catalog. I interlibrary loaned a collection by Stevenson called Stone Milk. 

But W. S. Merwin’s collection The River Sound also showed up in the search, so I interlibrary loaned it also.

Looking over the two books, I find two poems with similar names: Stevenson: “A Lament for the Makers,” Merwin: “Lament for the Makers.” I remained confused until I began reading a review of Stone Milk which pointed out that Stevenson’s epigram was taken from a poem by the same name by William Dunbar.

William Dunbar (1459-1520)

Dunbar was a Scottish poet from the late 15th and early 16th century. He was part of a movement poets from Scotland identified as Makars (makers or poets or bards).

Merwin’s poem self-consciously refers to Dunbar’s in the first line:

Dunbar: I that in heill wes and gladnes,

Merwin: I that through all my early days

As mentioned before, Stevenson quotes from Dunbar.

Of course I like all three poems. All three have references to dead poets I am looking up. Here’s a good wiki article on the Dunbar references. I think I have one more book coming with another poem by the same name.

Well, we got Mom and Dad into the ground yesterday. I was surprised at how satisfying it is to watch the ashes of someone you love go into the ground. Much better than a coffin. It felt like their mortal remains for sure to me.

The whole morning seem to go off well. We had about 30 people attend, so the food was in appropriate amounts. The caterer showed up around 9 AM. I gave him an organ tour. The crowd was basically family, a few choir members, and some musical friends. Rev Jen did her usual competent thing.

Sunday evening Eileen laid out a bunch of Mom’s stuff that we want to get rid of. This seemed to be a good idea. People enjoyed checking it out and even took some of the stuff.

After cleaning up after the reception, we started the dishwasher before leaving. Later Jeremy and I came back to empty it and run it again. However, it was still going. Jeremy sat down and occupied himself with his phone. I practiced organ. By the time I was finished practicing it was just finishing up. We emptied it and filled it again. I’m going back over today to finish cleaning up.

I am feeling less and less in common with classical musicians these days. Actually with any other musicians. I’m sure about my own aesthetic (eclectic based strongly on how the music actually sounds). And I do share this aesthetic with others, just not other musicians.

No problemo. My life is good. I told my musician friends at the memorial service that I’m not a hack, but I am a whore and now not for money but for access to a good instrument.

I do enjoy playing for Sunday service and I do enjoy under playing and listening to the group sing without accompaniment, something I do in almost every service.

And even though people were laughing and chatting loudly throughout my gentle William Byrd prelude I still had fun playing it. It’s a great piece of music. William Byrd makes me think of The Pentangle.

I’m pretty sure the first time I heard a Byrd piece was on a Pentangle album. Ironically it was the same piece the snobby harpsichord builder played to test out my harpsichord. I think I’ve mentioned that here before.

Sarah just mentioned that Bert Jansch of Pentangle died (2011). I may have known that but had forgotten.

Boy do they look old in the pic above.

I recently watched Garth Hudson in  YouTube video. He was returning to Big Pink.

He is a hero of mine. He played keyboards for The Band.

He’s looking old as well.

Of course, I’m getting to be an old man myself.

When my Dad was deep in the throes of his disease, Lewy Body Dementia, he asked to come and listen to me practice. While I practiced he walked around the entire room listening. I didn’t play particularly well while he listened and of course the sounds of the instrument were pretty lame. But I certainly didn’t mind. Actually it was kind of flattering. My parents loved and supported me, but didn’t necessary appreciate or understand my love of music. Dad seemed oddly satisfied after that. Something he needed to do for himself, I guess.

I dropped the little boxes of the ashes of my Mom and Dad at church this week so that Rev Jen can prepare them for next Monday. Since then I have realized that as I practice just behind the altar on the other end of the room sit the remains of my parents.

In a way, it sort of seems like I’m with them and they are listening to me practice.

Again it’s not an unpleasant feeling. And the sounds of the instrument and my playing as well are much better than they were when my Dad listened to them.

I had a busy day yesterday. Didn’t take the time to blog. Besides seeing my therapist and teaching a lesson, I reached out to an old friend of my Mom’s (Hilda Hensley formerly Hilda Neff). When I sent out emails hers bounced back. I wanted to make sure she knew Mom was dead and we were interring ashes on Monday. Hilda is in her eighties herself and knew my Dad and Mom when they lived in Columbus.

Jeremy suggested I set Sarah and Elizabeth on trying to connect a phone number to an address I had for Hilda.

Just before going into my therapist appointment, Sarah texted me a couple of numbers.

I was able to get in touch with her using them. She did know Mom had passed but didn’t know about the service (of course). It’s interesting how just inviting people seems to connect them in good ways even if they can’t or don’t plan to attend. Hilda seemed touched and promised to pass the info on to another friend of Mom’s, George Jordan.

I had forgotten George. Hilda said that she had learned of Mom’s death from him and that possibly he had seen something on Facebook. I immediately went on Facebook and found a George Jordan which might be him. George is also elderly and his Facebook profile (if it’s him) predictably had no profile pic.

Also, I called to confirm the caterer for Monday.

They had no record of the order.

In fact, the new Holland Branch of the De Boers said they don’t do fruit bowls and are just a bakery. They did however have a list going of upcoming catering events (something they didn’t have when I called in May). I just wasn’t on it. They suggested contacting the other, original, bakery on the north side of Holland.

This I did. They also had no record of my order, but said it would be no problem to fill it. So that worked out okay.

A. M. Homes Reads Margaret Atwood | The New Yorker

I keep posting podcasts. This another good one.