Hi Sharon! I like to save poems that I see here and there in "Notes" on my phone, and one that connects nicely to Greg's essay is a work I was introduced to via Maria Popover's
"The Marginalia". It's called "HAVING IT OUT WITH MELANCHOLY" by Jane Kenyon:
I must tell you, Jeffrey, that I followed your link. I know all about melancholy. Prozac saved my life. The movie Melancholy is one of the darkest, most haunting films I've ever watched...a big mistake for me. When I got my dreadful diagnosis last September, all I could do was listen to opera while I played Sudoku 24/7. Strangely, the combination made me oddly cheerful, as many friends and a therapist can attest. Chemo went smoothly. At the end of it, the oncologist pronounced me "cured." I'm no sucker for happy horseshit, so I didn't really buy that. But bottom line is it was good news. My weird brain does not know how to handle good news, and I've been depressed since. Your link led me to another post on that forum. It was about Oliver Sachs (one of my heroes) who was badly injured running from a bull while climbing a fjord in Norway. He survived a grueling mountainside descent with an umbrella splint on his broken leg and then a long recovery in a Norwegian hospital. A friend gave him a Rachmaninoff tape, which got him through the ordeal. This reminded me of my initial DIY therapy listening to opera and doing Soduku. I've been listening to Rachmaninoff now for two days, and it's a flipping miracle! The depression is lifting. I might as well live, dad-gum-it.
I love this. At first I thought "I'm not interested in some guy's porn books. What's up with Greg?" I will be checking out The Anthologist for sure! Thanks!
What you said about Baker’s writing in the first two sentences of this piece is what I’d say about your writing and why I love Prevail. But I’ve told you that in previous comments. What needs to be added here is that your writing about other great writers is filling a previously unfulfilled need in me for literary guidance. My wife fondly recalls a high school teacher who strode into the classroom quoting Shakespeare. Others recall that one outstanding teacher who inspired them. I never had a really great teacher! If I’d had someone in my life back then who got excited about great writing like you do, I’d probably have read Tom Sawyer rather than using my cleverness to get ‘A’s in Literature by psyching out the multiple choice test questions. I’m a published author and professional technical writer who’s functionally illiterate in great literature. I’m making a promise to myself here and now based on the inspiration I’m getting from you: I promise to find time—perhaps by commenting less on Facebook—to start reading some of the great writing I’ve missed. It’s all your fault, Greg Olear! You done went and inspired me!
I feel the same way, Earl. I recently lost my mentor from high school, a journalism teacher named Bob Burnham. He championed my writing, got me a gig at the local daily newspaper, and encouraged me to attend the same college he did. We remained friends these past 43 years. When he died, I wrote a long letter to his wife about my remembrances of Bob, which she shared with his best friend, who was my poetry teacher in high school ... and he reached out to me, which was wonderful. We exchanged recollections of each other, and he loaded me up with tons of poetry that he knew I'd like based on the things that have stayed with me all these years. Teachers are amazing, and so is my favorite teacher these days, Greg Olear. It's never too late to learn, to be moved, to connect with humanity.
Thanks, Jeffrey! I’m so glad you had a high school mentor. I’m not sure why I never had an amazing teacher, but I suspect it may have had at least a little to do with the apathy that had apparently been the national experience in taking US superiority for granted. I graduated in 1958. My sister, who was four years behind me, had to work much harder to get good grades, and I’m sure it’s because Sputnik, in 1957, jolted the US into taking a hard look at its educational system. I’m a product of the near-term post-WW2 mentality, I guess.
Two Gregs......The Happy.. hilarious Greg we see Friday nights and after hours a hilarious romp of our crazy situation during wannabe Fascism USA..(a mild reference to the cabaret 1938 Germany) and the sorrow filled writer who feels powerless to do more.Fact is both Greg's INSPIRE us to do more,and not give up HOPE.Thank you for this☑️👍oh..and the musical entries🎵🤩🎵🤩..and Chunk humor.We are on the Titanic,but maybe we can avoid iceberg.Hope springs eternal🎉☑️
Being a deconstructionist, I find enjoying poetry difficult as I’m always wondering, how’d they do that? You’ve sold me on giving it another go. Thanks as always for your insights and your beautiful writing.
Please direct me to the place where I can "replenish my dried-up reservoir of hope."
If you like poetry or even think you might like it, check out Greg's previous recommendation Poet's Choice, by Edward Hirsch.
Hi Sharon! I like to save poems that I see here and there in "Notes" on my phone, and one that connects nicely to Greg's essay is a work I was introduced to via Maria Popover's
"The Marginalia". It's called "HAVING IT OUT WITH MELANCHOLY" by Jane Kenyon:
https://www.themarginalian.org/2017/09/27/having-it-out-with-melancholy-jane-kenyon-amanda-palmer/
How sweet you are Jeffrey. I shall follow your suggestion. Thanks.
I must tell you, Jeffrey, that I followed your link. I know all about melancholy. Prozac saved my life. The movie Melancholy is one of the darkest, most haunting films I've ever watched...a big mistake for me. When I got my dreadful diagnosis last September, all I could do was listen to opera while I played Sudoku 24/7. Strangely, the combination made me oddly cheerful, as many friends and a therapist can attest. Chemo went smoothly. At the end of it, the oncologist pronounced me "cured." I'm no sucker for happy horseshit, so I didn't really buy that. But bottom line is it was good news. My weird brain does not know how to handle good news, and I've been depressed since. Your link led me to another post on that forum. It was about Oliver Sachs (one of my heroes) who was badly injured running from a bull while climbing a fjord in Norway. He survived a grueling mountainside descent with an umbrella splint on his broken leg and then a long recovery in a Norwegian hospital. A friend gave him a Rachmaninoff tape, which got him through the ordeal. This reminded me of my initial DIY therapy listening to opera and doing Soduku. I've been listening to Rachmaninoff now for two days, and it's a flipping miracle! The depression is lifting. I might as well live, dad-gum-it.
A good poem makes me surrender my death grip on what I think I know.
Well put!
Go on with your bad self, Greg...thanks!
I love this. At first I thought "I'm not interested in some guy's porn books. What's up with Greg?" I will be checking out The Anthologist for sure! Thanks!
What you said about Baker’s writing in the first two sentences of this piece is what I’d say about your writing and why I love Prevail. But I’ve told you that in previous comments. What needs to be added here is that your writing about other great writers is filling a previously unfulfilled need in me for literary guidance. My wife fondly recalls a high school teacher who strode into the classroom quoting Shakespeare. Others recall that one outstanding teacher who inspired them. I never had a really great teacher! If I’d had someone in my life back then who got excited about great writing like you do, I’d probably have read Tom Sawyer rather than using my cleverness to get ‘A’s in Literature by psyching out the multiple choice test questions. I’m a published author and professional technical writer who’s functionally illiterate in great literature. I’m making a promise to myself here and now based on the inspiration I’m getting from you: I promise to find time—perhaps by commenting less on Facebook—to start reading some of the great writing I’ve missed. It’s all your fault, Greg Olear! You done went and inspired me!
I feel the same way, Earl. I recently lost my mentor from high school, a journalism teacher named Bob Burnham. He championed my writing, got me a gig at the local daily newspaper, and encouraged me to attend the same college he did. We remained friends these past 43 years. When he died, I wrote a long letter to his wife about my remembrances of Bob, which she shared with his best friend, who was my poetry teacher in high school ... and he reached out to me, which was wonderful. We exchanged recollections of each other, and he loaded me up with tons of poetry that he knew I'd like based on the things that have stayed with me all these years. Teachers are amazing, and so is my favorite teacher these days, Greg Olear. It's never too late to learn, to be moved, to connect with humanity.
Thanks, Jeffrey! I’m so glad you had a high school mentor. I’m not sure why I never had an amazing teacher, but I suspect it may have had at least a little to do with the apathy that had apparently been the national experience in taking US superiority for granted. I graduated in 1958. My sister, who was four years behind me, had to work much harder to get good grades, and I’m sure it’s because Sputnik, in 1957, jolted the US into taking a hard look at its educational system. I’m a product of the near-term post-WW2 mentality, I guess.
Lovely musings....thank you...words with thoughts are for lifetime remembrance.
Good one.
Two Gregs......The Happy.. hilarious Greg we see Friday nights and after hours a hilarious romp of our crazy situation during wannabe Fascism USA..(a mild reference to the cabaret 1938 Germany) and the sorrow filled writer who feels powerless to do more.Fact is both Greg's INSPIRE us to do more,and not give up HOPE.Thank you for this☑️👍oh..and the musical entries🎵🤩🎵🤩..and Chunk humor.We are on the Titanic,but maybe we can avoid iceberg.Hope springs eternal🎉☑️
Being a deconstructionist, I find enjoying poetry difficult as I’m always wondering, how’d they do that? You’ve sold me on giving it another go. Thanks as always for your insights and your beautiful writing.
You got Updike pegged, Greg.