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Jul 17, 2022·edited Jul 17, 2022Liked by Greg Olear

How incredible that you can juxtapose the rebuilding of Berlin with the wresting of America from her foundation of promise and hope. Indeed, it is appropriate to go back there and bask in the hope that facing your sin can provide. However, being old, I feel that I am unlikely to live to see America do the same. The poem says it all, love your version, and may it keep me grounded in rough seas. BTW, may the spirit of Sophie Scholl revisit Berlin as well….

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Thanks, Jeri. The best-case scenario is that all of the awfulness will wake enough people up to bring about real change, in terms of fixing the problems inherent to our government and safeguarding democracy. I hope, hope, hope this is what happens.

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You have surpassed even yourself with this post, Greg. When you can top Longfellow, well, what next?

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Thanks so much, Mary!

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Jul 17, 2022Liked by Greg Olear

This is beautiful, dear beautiful Greg.

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Thank you!

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Jul 17, 2022Liked by Greg Olear

It was a delight seeing you the other night on The Five 8. Nice to see that you're more than a head, shoulders, and a hand wrapped around a glass.

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I loved his Bob Dylan impersonation...sans harmonica!

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That's a fake country song...I actually do a pretty decent Dylan, always where I'm making fun of him.

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Would be delighted to hear your "Dylan" on Five 8 anytime.

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Ha! Thanks. I told LB she could play that since I wouldn't be live to see it happen. I get shy!

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My comment in the chat during your set was "hubba hubba."

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Jul 17, 2022Liked by Greg Olear

I loved this. Keep going.

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Thanks!

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Wunderschön!

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Danke!

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Love this entire post, especially your version of the poem.

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Thanks. Written in the middle of the night, when all of Berlin sure sounded like it was sleeping...

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Ich weiss nicht, wo ich gehen will

Der Pfad ist lang, dann bin ich still

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Jul 17, 2022·edited Jul 17, 2022Liked by Greg Olear

Warum ist jeden Tag ehelang?

Die Bucht, die Schiffe, das Vogelgesang.

Why does every day last an eternity?

The Bay, the ships, the birdsong.

I am in our living room looking out at this Washington state waterway. It’s so quiet at this new house, far from city noises, we hear every bird, and see a constant stream of ships of every variety heading out to the Pacific or inbound to B.C. and Seattle area.

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Your German is of course better than mine!

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Don’t kid yourself, your German in this piece is excellent 🇩🇪

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I have no idea what this means, Roland, but it sure looks purdy!

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“I don’t know where I want to go,

The path is long, and then I’ll go“

I was feeling poetic. Greg inspired me. Plus I’m in a beautiful paradise.

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It's always good to feel you're in a beautiful paradise. Is it better than where you were in CA?

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Jul 17, 2022Liked by Greg Olear

Berlin obviously brings out the best in you, Greg! BRILLIANT first paragraph that I read three times before moving on. Germany has done a good job of atoning for THAT S.O.B., but there is always more that can be done, and they seem to know it, even unto today when they hesitated to get involved in Ukraine. "Oh! War? No, thank you."

America's atonement will take much longer and have to be much deeper, and I fear, as another poster said, that I won't live to see even the beginning of it. Where, in the future, will a writer (or poet) go to bear witness to the "place where it started," and where lightning would never strike twice? New York City? Washington D.C.? Mar-a-Lago? Harrison, Arkansas? Who knows? There are many places where it could have been said to have started. Our BIGGEST problem is that we're still in it, and any moves now towards reconciliation with the world seem suspect. It will come -- it MUST -- but not soon. I think I'd rather be in Berlin too.

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Thanks, Steve. I wonder what it is that makes certain places artistic and creative and others not so much. Switzerland, for example, made fun of by Orson Welles in The Third Man, and by Dalton Trumbo: "The only interesting thing than can happen in a Swiss hotel room is death by pillow suffocation," or somesuch. Berlin has it. NYC has it, although it's become so pricy that I wonder how long that will last. DC has it, too. Not Vegas. Not Mar a Lago. Would be interested to hear theories...

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For the few international places I've been in my life, I'd say it's the people themselves that "make" the place artistic and/or creative. London has that, and I found that surprisingly, Paris did not. Parisiens were friendly enough, but I still felt like I was an invader in their city. Luckily, we only spent a day there on a Eurostar trip from London, and after the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, and the Louvre (yes, in ONE day -- I was much younger then), I really couldn't wait to get out. Rome has it. Florence has it in spades! Chicago USED to have it, and I fear will not get it back soon. I thought some of the things being said about Chicago were a little hyperbolic a few years ago, but Chicago has grown into it. Vegas struck me as a roiling cesspool of depression. LA has it, but they're up their own asses so often that the creativity gets stifled. It's the people and what they make of their location that matters. That's my theory, and I'm sticking to it!

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Thanks for the nod to DC, my birth place!

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Jul 17, 2022Liked by Greg Olear

Greg, I love your version! Safe travels back.

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Thanks, Ellen! Three hours to check my bag and get through the security lines, a nine hour flight, and a bad cold, but I'm home in one piece!

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Jul 17, 2022Liked by Greg Olear

Great rendition of the Goethe and as usual, connecting the dots.

One of my other Goethe favorites is Erlkönig. Here are the first and last verses of eight :

Wer reitet so spät durch Nacht und Wind?

Es ist der Vater mit seinem Kind;

Er hat den Knaben wohl in dem Arm,

Er faßt ihn sicher, er hält ihn warm.

Dem Vater grauset's; er reitet geschwind,

Er hält in Armen das ächzende Kind,

Erreicht den Hof mit Mühe und Not;

In seinen Armen, das Kind war tot.

Who rides, so late, through night and wind?

It is the father with his child.

He has the boy well in his arm,

He holds him safely, he keeps him warm.

It horrifies the father; he swiftly rides on,

He holds the moaning child in his arms,

Reaches the farm with great difficulty;

In his arms, the child was dead.

Goethe's poem has no connection to the situation where our democracy is slipping away. Yet I think it's applicable in so many ways. The father who fails to see the evil Erl-King trying to get his young son until it's too late. The Erl-King: all who would kill our republic for their own personal gain. And the young son, our very fragile democracy.

My stab at Jet Lag:

At once both here and there,

Connected by hours of

Very fast moving air.

Time has lost all meaning.

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This is just an A+ comment. Love that little jet lag poem! Thanks so much!

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Now you can add travel agent to your many talents; sad to think that considering our alternatives is what we've come to when I had such momentary hope after November 2020 that we could rest. This analysis is a treat...enjoy and revel in the German humility, but we need you stateside too!

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Thanks! I'm back and full of beans, as they say...

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