Thursday, September 08, 2011

Backwards in Time



If everything twirls around and spins, if the whirlpool it generates sends me backwards in time, I'd like to get off at Wolff Trap National Park for the Performing Arts in Vienna, Virginia. Joan Baez is on stage—barefoot and singing protest songs to an appreciative audience. Some people are in seats, but many of the loudest fans found places on the hill. I'm seated on a plaid blanket mesmerized by her command of the audience and the urgency of the words. She's a Pied Piper singing to the choir.

It's the school gym and Academic Freedom Week, but it doesn't feel free. An invited speaker known to be politically incorrect sets off the ire of some local people. And a local newspaper wants to know why in a city college supported by the good citizens we have invited this unsavory character. The invitation is rescinded and Columbia University extends an invitation. But the administration forgot that Pete Seeger is appearing that very afternoon. The incident is the fodder for rousing folk songs. We sing loud and clear—Gonna lay down my sword and shield/ Down by the riverside

And some are grumblin' and some are wonderin'
if this land's still made for you and me


Drop me off at a Greenwich Village coffee house and let me order an expresso.
I went with friends to nurse my one coffee and discuss Camus and eavesdrop. I heard men with long hair and straggly beards talk about the Off-Off-Broadway experimental theatre. Sometimes a fledgling poet read barely edited poems. I loved the arguments about words and existentialism. We floated in that rarified air and then returned the following day to high school.

Let the winged carpet stop at the Davidson River where cold water rolls around stepping rocks.To the top of a ridge at Capital Reef—where my boots turned orange with the sand. Orange and reds shimmer in a relentless sun.

Then on to Harper's Ferry. Stand and look down at the confluence of the Shenandoah and Potomac Rivers. Someone started singing Shenandoah:
O Shenando' I'll not forget you
I'll dream of your clear waters
O Shenando' you're in my mem'ry
Away, we're bound away, across the wide Missouri



Last stop: Wingaersheek Beach in Gloucester. I brought along a home made Sled kite and enough string to send the kite to fly with clouds. A decorative sun in fluorescent hues vied with the sun for ascendency. I flew that kite higher and higher—the string —pulled by a desire to compete sent the winder spinning out of control. I started to rewind the string and then, like Icarus, the kite fell and descended into the ocean.

Last—let me return to Minnies Grocery. I never did get the Philadelphia Cream Cheese Wooden Box for my crayons.

1 Comments:

Anonymous Jan Timmons said...

You evoke so many memories. I'm there, hearing Joan's clear soprano sing of freedom. Red Rocks Amphitheatre overlooks Denver and the plains from the natural red slate seats outdoors. I lean up to look at the stars as Peter, Paul, and Mary sing, John Denver sings, and later at high school we read first-year college English and think we can change the world.

Do you still have that hope?

September 09, 2011  

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