Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Monday, April 4, 2011
Final Engagement
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Final Engagement
The man told me twelve-hundred American
veterans of World War II die each month now.
The Macs and Johnnys, Jimmies and Franks,
farm-boys, city-boys; Black soldiers
once concentrated in separate divisions; men
who enlisted at Manzanar or Tule Lake; women
called WAVES whose names were Kay or
Gladys, Mildred, Lucille, Gloria, or Dolores;
conscientious objectors, veterans of another kind
of war; men with lifelong jitters, and worse, after
the war. It's the final engagement, in which 1200
perish per month, maybe more, their photos
ghostlike on local obit websites. It's the final
assault on the jitterbug and cherry blossoms,
high-balls, unfiltered Camels, the sound of Murrow's voice,
the Lindy Hop, silk nylons, hair oil, propellers,
and a deep reticence to talk with anyone about what
happened over there, over here.
Copyright 2011 Hans Ostrom
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Final Engagement
The man told me twelve-hundred American
veterans of World War II die each month now.
The Macs and Johnnys, Jimmies and Franks,
farm-boys, city-boys; Black soldiers
once concentrated in separate divisions; men
who enlisted at Manzanar or Tule Lake; women
called WAVES whose names were Kay or
Gladys, Mildred, Lucille, Gloria, or Dolores;
conscientious objectors, veterans of another kind
of war; men with lifelong jitters, and worse, after
the war. It's the final engagement, in which 1200
perish per month, maybe more, their photos
ghostlike on local obit websites. It's the final
assault on the jitterbug and cherry blossoms,
high-balls, unfiltered Camels, the sound of Murrow's voice,
the Lindy Hop, silk nylons, hair oil, propellers,
and a deep reticence to talk with anyone about what
happened over there, over here.
Copyright 2011 Hans Ostrom
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Friday, April 1, 2011
My White Body
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My White Body
My white body has brought me ease
in this USA society that's marked black
and brown bodies, that marks them still.
My body white and masculine has functioned
as a passport, yes it has. Has often let me
be as invisible or as noticed as I prefer.
Has allowed me to prefer. I hear the voices
of contrarians: Have my white body and I
been excluded, ignored, worked hard, and
maybe even hated? Oh, sure. But not so
as to make my white body's experience
and me equivalent to that of those marked
by this USA society. I've been reading
The Slave Ship: A Human History by
Marcus Rediker, 2008. You know, you
think you know, but you don't know--
that is why history is written, read.
Admit it. Admit you have a white body
according to the culture's rules, I told
myself. And let's not whitewash the issue.
This isn't Tom Sawyer's fence.
What's an admission worth? Not much.
It's a move, a mental shift. What must ensue
after the admission must be more productive
than just the admission. Otherwise the move
becomes just more hoo-hah from a mind inside
a white body. My white body has brought me ease.
Copyright 2011 Hans Ostrom
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My White Body
My white body has brought me ease
in this USA society that's marked black
and brown bodies, that marks them still.
My body white and masculine has functioned
as a passport, yes it has. Has often let me
be as invisible or as noticed as I prefer.
Has allowed me to prefer. I hear the voices
of contrarians: Have my white body and I
been excluded, ignored, worked hard, and
maybe even hated? Oh, sure. But not so
as to make my white body's experience
and me equivalent to that of those marked
by this USA society. I've been reading
The Slave Ship: A Human History by
Marcus Rediker, 2008. You know, you
think you know, but you don't know--
that is why history is written, read.
Admit it. Admit you have a white body
according to the culture's rules, I told
myself. And let's not whitewash the issue.
This isn't Tom Sawyer's fence.
What's an admission worth? Not much.
It's a move, a mental shift. What must ensue
after the admission must be more productive
than just the admission. Otherwise the move
becomes just more hoo-hah from a mind inside
a white body. My white body has brought me ease.
Copyright 2011 Hans Ostrom
My Father Does Disapprobation
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My Father Does Disapprobation
Jesus Christ Almighty! my father used to say,
not speaking to, of, or for Jesus but to one or more
of his three sons, who had done something maybe
not even wrong but just imperfectly. He could be
thunderous in his disapprobation, which is a word
I never heard him say. He was the Jehovah
of our family--and an atheist: no competition.
Jesus Christ Almighty HIT the sonofabitch!!
he'd shout--concerning a sledge-hammer,
wielded by one of us, at a wooden stake.
A mere stake being driven into the mere ground!
Disproportionate furor! Magnificent, in its own
way, and in its own way Judeo-Christian: Old School.
Copyright 2011 Hans Ostrom
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My Father Does Disapprobation
Jesus Christ Almighty! my father used to say,
not speaking to, of, or for Jesus but to one or more
of his three sons, who had done something maybe
not even wrong but just imperfectly. He could be
thunderous in his disapprobation, which is a word
I never heard him say. He was the Jehovah
of our family--and an atheist: no competition.
Jesus Christ Almighty HIT the sonofabitch!!
he'd shout--concerning a sledge-hammer,
wielded by one of us, at a wooden stake.
A mere stake being driven into the mere ground!
Disproportionate furor! Magnificent, in its own
way, and in its own way Judeo-Christian: Old School.
Copyright 2011 Hans Ostrom
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
This Is Your Uncle Vinton
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This Is Your Uncle Vinton
This is your Uncle Vinton calling:
You say you don't have an Uncle
Vinton, and you close the call.
Actually you do have an Uncle
Vinton. He's a secret, me. I was
going to mention a few other things
you may not know. But that's all right.
You'll be fine not knowing them, me.
You may recall in quiet moments
the calm assurance of my voice when
I said, This is your Uncle Vinton calling.
Our disconnection will be our only connection.
--Unless of course you call me some night
and say This is your niece, Verona, calling,
and I say, "I don't have a niece named Verona."
Copyright 2011 Hans Ostrom
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This Is Your Uncle Vinton
This is your Uncle Vinton calling:
You say you don't have an Uncle
Vinton, and you close the call.
Actually you do have an Uncle
Vinton. He's a secret, me. I was
going to mention a few other things
you may not know. But that's all right.
You'll be fine not knowing them, me.
You may recall in quiet moments
the calm assurance of my voice when
I said, This is your Uncle Vinton calling.
Our disconnection will be our only connection.
--Unless of course you call me some night
and say This is your niece, Verona, calling,
and I say, "I don't have a niece named Verona."
Copyright 2011 Hans Ostrom
Gray Boulder
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I Say That Gray Boulder
I say that gray boulder will always be
there, knowing it will be gone--but long
after I am no longer. I say it because
I need at least a stone to stay where
it was, where it is in my mind,
which needs rock to be more
than memory. Mind wearies of its
memories, its common stock. That
gray boulder's under cedars.
I sat on it, age six, and experienced
the expansive fluidity of sight, thought,
light, impulse, and sensation all children
know but don't know they will lose.
I say "that gray boulder," and I know.
Copyright 2011 Hans Ostrom
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I Say That Gray Boulder
I say that gray boulder will always be
there, knowing it will be gone--but long
after I am no longer. I say it because
I need at least a stone to stay where
it was, where it is in my mind,
which needs rock to be more
than memory. Mind wearies of its
memories, its common stock. That
gray boulder's under cedars.
I sat on it, age six, and experienced
the expansive fluidity of sight, thought,
light, impulse, and sensation all children
know but don't know they will lose.
I say "that gray boulder," and I know.
Copyright 2011 Hans Ostrom
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
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