June 18, 2017

"Life with a Candle," by Hiram Larew

Photo by Lynn Weber

I discovered the poetry of Hiram Larew at the recent launch party for the Summer 2017 issue of the Little Patuxent Review. Among others, he read this poem, "Life with a Candle," which I found extraordinary for its ability to convey the wonder and depth of feeling that we sometimes feel in nature. This is a very time-worn theme in poetry, so the fact that he could summon the actual feeling anew is an achievement.

Equally poignant is the theme of longing:
Before there were hills
Or even eyes to up over
There was a distance beyond us
A long far away that can never be near
No matter how fortunate we are, how much we have, what we dreams we have seen realized, there's is always, always, a longing for something—eternity, perfection, childhood, a place, a time, some expression or experience of the fullness of love—that remains, a sore spot in our soul that can flare up when poked.

When you read it, aloud or in your mind's voice, go slowly, like Larew did when he read it.

Hiram Larew

I want to marry this field
Truly and simply
With its wings curving the corners
And its smoothness stunning my knees
My heart is here far around me
And there’s humming and leaning—
Even the trifling breeze

I want this field for my living
To vow to its edges
That nothing comes true
Without greening
Nothing seems bold as my longings
Except sloping
Nothing wakes on my shoulder
But rustling
I hope the strangest hopes in this field
Ever bending

From here
I know that this much of my all is clear—
Before there were hills
Or even eyes to up over
There was a distance beyond us
A long far away that can never be near
There was wishing

I want to carry this field
In my arms
By its being and dust
To a maybe that’s certain
So that our future flickers on grasses
And our children wave from the clouds.

June 17, 2017

Legacy: Alice Porter Schafer Weber

Here she is, my mother as a young woman, passed away eleven years ago today:

Here is one of the things I most admired about my mom: She was very traditional, in all the right ways. We had dinner together every night, made from scratch—a meat, a vegetable, and a starch, and usually a dessert, even if it was just canned pears on a piece of lettuce with some cheddar shredded on top. We said prayers on our knees by our bed every night. There was no swearing in our house. We went to church every Sunday. She taught us to be polite and friendly. She was the straightest of arrows.

She was also a feminist. She hated that her friend, age 50, had to ride her bike to work every day, even in cold and snow, because the husband wouldn't "allow" them to buy a car for her. (Needless to say, he did not bike to work.) She hated how women were treated around the world. One of my favorite stories from her college days at University of Maryland was when  she and a friend, walking across campus, were gestured to by a man in a car. My mom said, "I'm not going over there. He doesn't have any business with us." But her friend couldn't resist the social pressure of ignoring him, so she went to the car—where he exposed himself. She had backbone, agency, and self-respect. She always said that if she won the lottery, her dream for the money would be to start a foundation to help women develop self-esteem.

For her, there was no contradiction between being traditional and being modern, in being a feminist and a homemaker, a professional (nurse, in her case) and a family-first mother. Values were values. She embraced the new ones without rejecting the traditional ones that had true worth.

In her honor, my sisters and I created a group called Team Alice with the charitable organization Kiva. Kiva makes micro-loans to people all over the world to help them pursue their potential and become self-sufficient. Even $25 can go a long way for someone in Bolivia or Pakistan. And when the loan is repaid, you can lend the money out again, blessing person after person with the same initial investment.

If you are interested in supporting women in this way, please go to the Team Alice page on Kiva.com to learn more: