"Emily Dickinson and Elvis Presley in Heaven"

"Alas! How Easily Things Go Wrong," by George MacDonald

Bowl Season

Here's a partial re-post from 2007--concerning (football) bowl season, which doesn't make any sense even in the culture to which in belongs (American):

Bowls I would like to see played, to make "bowl season" more interesting:

1. The Despair Bowl, featuring the two worst teams in college football. Different faith-traditions could sponsor this bowl and offer hope to the teams and their long-suffering fans.

2. The Absurdity Bowl, in which, if a team "scores," points are subtracted, not added. So if a team scored a lot, the scoreboard would read "-58" or something like that. The defenses would attempt to let the offenses score; they would be hospitable, polite, and supportive. The offenses would be inoffensive, reticent, and shy.

3. The Don't Go To War Unless It's Absolutely Necessary Bowl, featuring teams from the military academies. Before the game, all in attendance would pray in their own fashion that the players would never have to see military action and especially not have to suffer wounds or get killed in combat, ever.

4. The Poetry Bowl, in which players from the two teams would choose their favorite poems and read them aloud to the crowd during the four timed quarters. There would be a half-time, during which the teams could change their strategies and consult different anthologies. Judges would determine which set of poems was more interesting and which team gave better readings. All the players would earn academic credits in English at their respective universities.

5. The Zen Bowl, featuring no teams, only spectators, who would file in and look at the empty field. Cheerleaders representing no teams would "cheer" silently.

6. The Interpretation Bowl. This would be an ordinary football game, but on television, you could select different commentators to describe and interpret the game. The menu would include political scientists, feminist scholars, anthropologists, game-theorists, mathematicians, physicists, psychologists, and so forth. Everyone at home would get the deeper meaning of their choice.

7. The Out Bowl. This would be a game between two teams composed of players from all teams across the nation--perhaps East and West. Players would be invited to come out as gay, but no player would be outed without his permission. One aim would be to assemble enough gay players to field two teams. Another aim would be to help the United States get over its homophobia and realize that about 10 per cent of any given group--including athletes--is gay. (Consider the appeal of gladiator-movies.) I predict that this Bowl will not occur soon.

8. The Soup Bowl. Innumerable corporate sponsors would support this Bowl lavishly, but all the profits would go to feeding the homeless, who would be able to attend the game for free (if they so desired), after a good meal, a hot shower, and a fresh change of clothes.

Lapses in Memory

So, I have this friend, he's 62, and his mother
is 90.  He takes her to her regular medical check-ups.
And so forth. At the last check-up, the nurse who
works for the doctor had the mother, 90, fill out
a form, answer questions.  One of the questions
was, "Have you experienced  lapses in memory lately?"

The mother read the question and turned to her son,
my friend, who is 62, and asked, "How would I know?"


Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom

"O, Fret Not After Knowledge," by John Keats

from "For the Time Being," by W.H. Auden

"November," by William Dean Howells

Getting Old: An Introduction

You'll admit you always had the illusion
you were almost hip, sort of with-it, and
you'll admit that you never were and that
you're now completely out of step. Bones

and muscles will ache as easily as they used
not to. To the extent you had personal enemies,
they'll either be dead now or seem
ludicrous--like you.  Hair

will have grown in places you hadn't
imagined hair could grow, as in  for example
the inside of your ears. By turns, you'll want
to cry out "Leave me alone!" and "Please

notice me!" If the young notice you,
they'll look through you. Lust won't leave
you. It will just badger you and make
you seem creepy. In fact, this is a country

for old men and women.  The problem
is simply that age doesn't earn you anything
special, and pneumonia's always
out there, waiting like a burglar,

and nobody cares what you know.


Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom

"The Mid-Day Moon," by John Banister Tabb

Of Time and the Poets

While Since was settling its accounts
with time, Then subsequented itself
right on down the line. And Because
pretended to be more influential
than it was, as Correlation made
real differences and, well, caused
a bit of buzz. Later, when Eventually,
Never, Seldom, and Once raided the place,

narrative lost face, storytellers
interrupted each other, and poets
withdrew to a corner where
not-that-much-happens, and
where plots are as tedious as
blueprints and Immediately
shouts, "Can I get an Amen?"

Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom

"Evolution," by John Banister Tabb

"Storm Ending," by Jean Toomer

Retirement Communities Advertise (Of Course They Do)

The retirement communities, where retirements
live in groups, advertise themselves. They
feature images of people who seem vibrant
like earthquakes, active like yeast, and
damned White, if you ask me.

I'm closer to living in such a place
than I was yesterday. I guess this
is true of a lot of people. My hip
aches, so I won't have too much more
to say here (a lie) than I wish the ads weren't

so cheery: It's basically the same appeal
that's used to get American children to get
their parents to buy cubic tons of stuff made
in Asia.  Except now the kids are indirectly
urged to shelve the Old Man and Ma here,
and not there. I'd prefer ads narrated

by Charon from his ferry. "Come on down!
We're at the corner of Styx and Acheron!"
Or a riff on Bergman's white-masked Death
playing chess. "It's your move . . . into
assisted living!"  Or an actor playing
Robert Johnson singing, "Meet me
at the crossroads, baby. We'll eat
some peas and mashed potatoes."

Or how about this: "Look, it's a
dormitory for the gray, it's okay
to smoke weed, and we promise
not to bother you or make you pray.
We don't guarantee it, but you
might get laid, somehow, some way."


Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom