Blogs of Old and Books of Today

While doing further research on another brilliant idea I have, I thought I would go ahead and post this on a book I found.


The other day I found a beautifully bound book Every=Day Thoughts by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, W.B. Conkey Company, Chicago; 1901.

When I removed it from the shelf at our local used book store, I had no idea who Ella W. Wilcox was. The reason I took it from the shelf was the binding. Then I took a further look, a glance at a page or two or more. I had a hard time stopping.
It occurred to me it was a “blog” of 104 “posts” from 1901.

Of course upon further investigation at the computer, I learned about Mrs. Wilcox. She was a poet, everyday man's poetry and she was a philosopher. Actually she was a follower of theosophy. That is a mixture of religion and philosophy.
In her poem “Solitude” she wrote the famous line” laugh and the world laughs with you; weep and you weep alone”. (As you read the wikipedia biography you will find a mention of Sinclair Lewis and Babbitt. Apparently Mr. Lewis did not consider Mrs. Wilcox a great literary genius.)

Many of the “posts” contained in the book are short and to the point. Most are just 2 or 3 short pages.
The author covers many subjects. Most of her writings in this book are in answer to questions posed by her followers, readers. She uses her poetry as a means in some chapters.

Though she considers herself to be a “religious” person, she writes about “Our Empty Churches” (Chapter LX) in response to a young woman

“...telling us that New Yorkers are pagans, because sixty-five percent of us do not go to church.” She answers with some of her theosophy answers. “Every day I am newly surprised to find people I had supposed to be given over to creeds, or to agnosticism, sweeping into line with the great army of devout and forceful thinkers in this new school of theology.”(p. 200)

I put the previous paragraph in here to get your attention. Now that I have it. Here is another “Blog of Old” excerpt in which the Mrs Wilcox gives advice to someone seeking guidance about his unfaithful wife:

“It is one of life's terrible jests, when a man with so much soul and heart and feeling, is mated with a frivolous and worthless woman-- a woman so devoid of the power of appreciation of God's greatest blessings, that she can give up such a love for the cheap pleasures of a third-class theatrical career.”(p. 114)

She writes about “love affairs”. She offers advice to mothers, wives, and husbands on things such money matters, disrespectful children. She writes in one chapter of the need of moderation between seeking poverty or seeking extreme wealth. The author devotes one “Blog post” is on the care of animals. Lest you be misled by the quotation above she is very much for women earning their own way when they have talent.

In all her posts Mrs. Wilcox preaches patience with the changing world. She encourages cleanliness, smiles, and forgiveness. And, thus far in reading from this “blog of old”, I find only one mention of reincarnation. I have not read it all-I hesitate to do so. This book is old and even reading it causes it problems. So I now have to figure out how to keep it in good shape and yet read from it.

In another book written by Mrs. Wilcox, poetry, you will find beautiful, really, “photographic life studies”. Maurine is the title.
hereis the Google Books link.

If you can find some of her “columns”, you will probably find as I have she is a nice person with a “religion” that is quite different. What an interesting person she must have been.

I enjoy these “old blogs” we sometimes call books. But in particular, this book by Ella Wheeler Wilcox is so much like blog posts it is eerie. It also reminds me of some of the books of today-put together and published collections of columns of so-called pundits, or …

The first time I bought a “book” by a present-day columnist, I was disappointed to find it was really nothing but a compendium of columns they had written. I thought I was going to get more of the reasons the columnist writes what he or she writes. I know they are really great writers but hey books are not cheap these days so at least warn me. ( I know I should have checked it out better before I paid good money for it-I was in a hurry.)

Yet, I bought the old one and was thrilled. So, I guess if I can enjoy the “Blogs of Old” I should be more open about the “Books of Today.” After all they are both suited to those of us with short attention spans.

Challenges

I grew up with my dad always telling me that as long as Ted Kennedy was around, everything was safe,” she said as she waited in line at the library to sign a condolence book.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/08/28/us/politics/28mourn.html?hp



With the death of Senator E. Kennedy, I, like some others, recall growing up. No, not just since I became politically aware. I mean childhood. A time when I was innocent and happy. Happy partly because I felt cared-for. I didn't have to think about health care, my parents did. I didn't have to think about feeding people, my parents did. I didn't have to think about the jobless rate, my parents did. I didn't have to think much about education, my parents did. All I had to think about was doing the chores they required of me and doing the work of children, play. I hope you are getting the point here.

Perhaps many of us, at this time, are in a quandary. We are like many teens. We want the protection of someone else to take our causes on their shoulders yet we want our independence. I call it the “push-me-pull-you” state. Perhaps we feel we are inadequate to take on the tasks at hand. For a short time we are back in Maslow's Safety Needs level, but we struggle to get back to the Self Actualization level. Or if you prefer the Growth Level of Alderfer.

Whatever the reasons, I am torn between looking backwards to the happy days of childhood and looking at the present of the hill here. The apple trees we planted that now produce fruit for the picking, the many flower gardens planted, and the natural areas are the here and now. Then my thoughts fly outward to the rest of the world and contemplate the future for those of the next generations. Sometimes knowing, as I do think of the future, much of that future will be the same past, it cannot be avoided. Future generations will have to go through their stages, or levels also. But, can those of us, my generation, now leave those of the next generations at the least the first 3 levels? The first 3 levels are physiological, safety, and belonging. Maybe not to the individual scale of life but maybe for the larger scale. Maybe we can leave the opportunity to achieve at least those first 3 levels on Maslow's scale.

So good-byes to the Senator and stories to tell for a few days then on to being the ones that keep trying.

The Challenges Are There

Wishing for past childhood blissful ignorance,
Wishing to stay in pleasant present ignorance,
Just leave me alone.

Offer me no challenges.

Knowing I cannot stay,
Knowing there is more,
You will not leave me alone.

The challenges are there.

Some I caused,
Some you caused,
Does it matter?
I will not leave you alone.

The challenges are there.

Poetry I Don't Get It

I have never been a serious poetry person. But since there are poets in the family, I figure I ought to try to “get” poetry again. So I reviewed some of what I learned years ago and found a little new about poetry on-line. What I found is: I am not a serious poetry person.

The only poetry for me is poetry that is straight-forward, painting, pastoral pictures.

Poetry does not need to rhyme for me. I do like the rhyme of poetry for children whether written by kids or for kids. I even like singsong poetry, supposedly not good poetry from my studies thus far.

I do not want to read all poems again and again, a little rereading for meaning is OK, but I am lazy. I don't want to figure out what the deep, psychological meaning is. Some play with words is fine-that is the why of poetry I think.

My definition of poetry is the shortest or best words, even if very unusual words, to describe a person, place, or thing. Thing in this case can be an emotion.

I know people and the “real” world are not always nice so I want be entertained or taken to a better place. I like my poetry like my old “fun” movies, escaping to a fun place or a mystery that will have an ending.

Then I thought maybe if I tried writing a verse maybe I would get it. Then my older brother and I were talking about food when he mentioned “beans and fried potatoes”. That combination of words are music and visuals of growing up . So here are the beginnings(and probably the end) of my poetry efforts but watch out... I want it to be read in a singsong manner.

If you want you can analyze the verses and let me know what you see and hear.

The Music That Is Me

Dirty face and well worn trikes
brown beans and fried potatoes.
Mosquito sprays and steaming trains
tailin' piles and sink holes.

"Do the job and do it right"
Swept porch and broom ed yard.
Summer leaches and washed cars
burnin' coal and drip lard.

"Play with me." "I'm gonna tell."
Steam rollers and road graders.
Drawing gate and ticking lock.
A Whine sack Baby Brother.

Hand me downs and Doris Day
mud pies and paper dolls.
Taking care and cleaning house
A-men-Able My Sister.

Be the best and run away
sickly sun and worry.
Trouble then and Mentor now
Thou Hector Older Brother.