Drew Myron's Blog, page 6

Wish You Were Here . . .

It’s postcard season, and I’m ready!

Once, a young friend went to Europe. “Send me a postcard,” I said as she departed. She arrived in the foreign country, purchased a postcard, and had no idea what to do.

Where do I write a message, put the address, place the stamp?

Some kind (and probably older) person taught the young writer the magic of postcard communication. Weeks later I received a colorful card filled with good cheer.

Like the rotary phone, stereo turntable, and film camera, the postcard harkens to early days and simple pleasures. Of slide shows, long strolls, and life without constant contact. And now, briefly, the past is present. Retro culture returns. Bring back the postcard!

To that end, I’m taking part in the annual Poetry Postcard Fest, a self-guided writing project that involves writing and receiving poems on postcards. The festival, launched in 2007, was created as an exercise of “both community and discipline” in which participants commit to writing 31 poems in 56 days, using limited space, and mailing the postcards to other participant poets around the world.

Join the fun! The event begins on July 4. Register here.

Writing a postcard is both challenge and delight. Like my young friend, I work hard to wrangle big ideas into small space. And really, this is an excellent exercise for all writers. Make every word matter. Prune, edit, prune more. Postcards, like poems, shine when they are vivid, concise, and image-heavy.

For the Fest, poets are urged to create first-draft originals by writing spontaneously, with limited (to no) editing. Rather than dazzle with polished poems, the Fest encourages creative stumbles and leaps. “The point is to experiment, stretch my subconscious’ mind-muscles,” explains Kat Bodrie, a longtime participant in the Poetry Postcard Fest. Founder Paul Nelson (with Lana Ayers) says the process is all about “having the guts to write without a net.”

Because I love freewriting, personal mail, and a good nudge, I’m eager to get started. Let’s work the writing muscle:

1. Join the Postcard Poetry Fest.

2. Too much of a commitment? Send me a postcard.

3. Or, let me send you a postcard poem. Send me your address, and I’ll send you a postcard poem.

4. Let the summer writing fun begin!

Need some postcard poem inspiration?

Village

Outdoors, a breeze
makes all the shrubs
look sociable.
White butterflies in a field
are the frayed handkerchiefs of those
who didn’t finish saying  good-bye.

— Bert Meyers from Postcards

See also:

Postcard from the Heartbreak Hotel by John Brehm

Postcard by Olena Kalytiak Davis

A Certain Slant of Sunlight by Ted Berrigan

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The world turns on words. Thank you for reading & writing.

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Try This: Design Rules

Remember the joy of magazines, those glossy print publications with large photos and worlds of possibility? Like the nearly extinct newspaper, the magazine has left the modern world, diminished in size, scale and popularity. Still, I like the shiny pages providing a peek into other worlds.

They also make an excellent writing challenge.

When I want low-pressure word play, I reach for the nearest magazine and make a scramble.

Here’s how: Flip to a page, copy words and phrases onto your own paper, then rearrange words, lines, and ideas to make your own poem. You can add words of your own, or increase the challenge by using only words from the magazine page.

A tip for the thrifty (me!): Get free magazines at your local library.

The scramble is a great writing warm-up, a good remedy for writer’s block, and a fun way to create unexpected word pairings that expand your creative power. The key is to stop making sense, while also creating some cohesion. Play with your words!

Design Rules

Never block a window.

Spindle strife. Vault

the ceiling and hang

your mismatched urges.

Your more is more approach

makes a grand entry but

here’s a smart trick: get small.

Strike yourself from the room.

Let in light.

— Drew Myron
created from Real Simple, June 2024


Your turn! 
Make your own scramble (or scramble my scramble). If you feel moved, share your poem with me at: dcm@drewmyron.com 



Want more word play?
Wordcatching
Cut Up
Overwrite
Headlines
Wild Card
I Remember
Where I’m From

You Showed Up

Happy Birthday! — with help from CakeWrecks.com

On the anniversary of saying too much, too often, I pause to remember when “blog” was a ridiculous made-up word. And sharing your personal thoughts on the internet was just weird and self-involved. 

Oh, how far we’ve come (and stumbled, tumbled, tossed, and turned).

Established in 2008, this blog is now 16 years old — time for a party, a curfew, a driver’s license!

On this long road, we’ve made good time. We’ve traveled from flip phone to smartphone, from cable cord to streaming ease. We’ve clunked through myspace and facebook, then snapchat, instagram, tik tok, substack and more. We keep reaching for the next shiny tease.

We’ve raced from Twilight to Towles, from Banksy to Holzer, from skinny jeans to wide leg flares, from Taylor Swift to, well, Taylor Swift . . .

Those early days now seem sweet and naive (ahh nostalgia, there you are). But I see now that time moves fast in a flurry of change yet sometimes slows enough to suggest familiar shapes in fresh form.

So many years ago, I started this blog along a quiet stretch of lonely road. I was hoping you might appear, for a moment, a pause, an occasional nod.  Much to my delight (and relief), you showed up, shining light, sharing thoughts, and shaping days — thank you.

Thank you for joining me in making something from our scraps and scrapes, for showing up to mull and mix, to circle and swap, to wonder and wander with mind and heart. The world turns on words — thank you for reading, writing & responding.

But let’s not get too frilly. Let’s just cut the cake!

* * *

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Thankful Thursday: Culling

“Memories” of Charlotte, Texas — photo by Billy Hathorn.

It was the Dutch Bros gift card that split me open.

“One small latte,” I said, handing the card to the peppy barista, “but I don’t know if there’s anything on here.”

“Sure, I can check that for you,” she offered, returning with hot coffee and the card. “You have $21.50 left,” she said, smiling.

I drove away near tears.

It wasn’t his wedding ring or wallet that drew me to tears. The photo albums and baby book did. His harmonica, too.

Then the culling got granular: ticket stubs, postcards, pesos, a checkbook balanced in his shaky hand, my mother’s driver’s license that he’d kept after her death. And then a neat, small stack of photos tucked in his dresser drawer, each image showing my parents last years together: traveling to New York, the Grand Canyon, Mexico. A bucket list of desires, check, check, check.

One by one, I put his life in a box, in a bin, in the trash. I was the hand of discarding, closing a life.

* * *

Maybe you know this process. After a death, the ephemera. What to toss, what to keep? Do you hold tight or let go?

Between tears, I’ve tried to be thoughtful and kind but also practical. No one wants the baroque silverware. Thrift stores, glutted with precious “heirlooms,” have stop accepting one man’s treasure. It’s now trash. Literally, actual trash. I am filling the landfill to its brim.   

Again and again, I ask: where will I keep so many things, while also knowing the heart can only hold so many memories. Mind space, like closet space, is full. Memories tarnish, fade and often slip away. I don’t know what to do with the stuff of a life, moved and stored and tucked away, from family to family, from death to death, to now me.

These everyday items — a school tablet, a baby book, an old ring, a few coins — seem small individually. And yet, how much does one preserve history, and at some point, is this personal history worth packing up and storing once again, in some other house of some other relative who has lost the thread of the generations before? Does history — these items — require perpetual storage? If the answer is yes, the question is what are we preserving, and why?

* * *

cull

/kəl/

verb
to select from a group; choose

to reduce or control the size of by removal

noun
something rejected as inferior or worthless

* * *

Maybe the process of culling is really the act of cherishing. In sifting through my father’s past, I remember anew with each review. This is, of course, the value of history. The events do not change, but our perceptions do. Maybe the act of attention is enough. To hold briefly, and then release.

May memory make permanent the tenderness of today.

* * *

I wear my father’s jeans. Levis, soft, faded. They are a bit big in the waist, but barely, and too long, but easily cuffed. With each wearing, the denim stretches and bags and I cinch the waist higher, tighter.

It’s weird, I know, and kinda creepy. But in the weeks after my father’s death, the jeans were soft and familiar. And I had unintentionally found a symbol for our relationship: an uneasy, make-do fit in which we craved encouragement and approval.

My desire for my dad’s clothing takes me by surprise. His full and organized closet showed a particular taste. The thrift shop clerk, when handed dozens of colorful shirts, sighed kindly, “Oh,” she said, “older men love their Hawaiian shirts.” 

My father never succumbed to sloppy. Perpetually thin, he was lanky and loose, with shoulders back, head up, and a face that would open into a wide smile. Even as he was dying, he showered, shaved, dressed. He would not let anyone see him disheveled.

This is not sentiment of longing.

I am not holding onto his clothes as one would a generational watch or beloved hat. We loved each other as much as we were able, and often it seemed not enough. These clothes, I see now, may be the closest I’ll get.

* * *

cull

To select, reject, discard.

To glance and glance again,

to study and gaze, to weigh and wonder,

to want for a moment. To pause and toss. To let go.

* * *

The last thing to sort — the wallet, thin and spare, a life pared. Credit card. Insurance card. Library card. A coffee card he never had the chance to use.

Our every visit, in every weather, involved coffee. Always a strong hot brew, with cream and chatter. Now, three months from his death, I slip the stiff plastic card into my own wallet.

Throat clenched in memory, hot coffee in hand, I drive away.

“Thanks Dad,” I say, to no one but myself.

  

 

10 Good Things

Luna Creciente - Wilson Ong illustration for poem by L.A. Evans, published in High Five Bilingüe

Good news, I’m on a roll of good things — reading, watching, learning!

May I share?

Years ago I stopped reading movie reviews until after viewing the movie. I like to come to the film fresh, without bias or expectation. I’m now doing the same with novels. I turn the first pages not knowing a thing. It’s like going to a party and knowing none of the guests — exciting, daunting, and quite satisfying.

My three latest favorite novels are:

1.
Commitment by Mona Simpson
This excellent, engrossing novel shines with Simpson’s taut writing style. In this story of a family fractured by mental illness, the characters are vivid and wonderfully flawed, and the sense of time and place is finely drawn.

2.
Long Bright River by Liz Moore
Yes, this is a crime thriller mystery but it’s really so much more. Written in a beautifully spare style that runs psychologically deep, this novel is smart, poignant, and incredibly moving.

3.
History of Wolves by Emily Fridlund
A very unusual novel that beautifully balances a languid pace with eerie tension. There is a deep mystery to the tone that is both frightening and captivating.

My writing life is rooted in journalism. Early on, I worked as a reporter covering the news and people of small communities. More recently, I wrote magazine stories featuring people and places in rural places.

There was a time when newspapers and newsmagazines were vital, serving as an essential gateway to knowledge and information, to worlds and experience. As newspapers have shuttered and the principles of (and funding for) journalism have deteriorated, it makes me both sad and angry to see the evaporation of deep research, solid reporting, and stellar writing.

While I read several online news sources daily, I still like to settle into a good print story. This month, The Atlantic offers two especially good features that are enlightening, entertaining, and well-written. There is a paywall (ugh) but signing up for free trial will provide access:

4.
Ozempic or Bust by Daniel Engber
Because I’ve lived through the grapefruit diet, the Atkins diet, Oprah’s wagon-of-lost-weight, Body for Life, bulimia, therapy, and more, I’m always interested in our collective struggle to manage food, body image, and health. With compassion, historical accounting, and medical insight, this feature explores America’s many attempts to solve the obesity epidemic.

5.
The Godfather of American Comedy by Adrienne LaFrance
This is a much-needed nod to underappreciated writer-actor-comedian Albert Brooks. My favorite Brooks film is the 1991 comedy-drama, Defending Your Life.  Yes, movies from the 90s tend to run slow, but thanks to the droll wit of Albert Brooks, with Meryl Streep, this one is a real charmer.

Speaking of movies, I recently watched two good new-to-me but not new movies:

 6.
King Richard
This 2021 film starring Will Smith tells the true story of how a determined father, Richard Williams, shaped the lives of his daughters, superstar tennis greats Venus and Serena Williams.

7.
Battle of the Sexes
Based on the true story of the 1973 tennis match between Billie Jean King and Bobby Riggs, this riveting history comes alive with actors Emma Stone and Steve Carrell.

Sidenote: I don’t play tennis, but recently tried pickleball and now have an appreciation for racket sports. But, really, how is pickleball so popular? It’s hard!

Lastly, I’m learning Spanish — finally, slowly. It’s ridiculous that I’m just now learning a language that so many speak and that feels so essential to engagement. I’m in the initial stages of learning and feel excited with each small accomplishment. I’ve found three good things to jumpstart my efforts:

8.
Destinos
With 52 episodes, this telenovela, or Spanish drama, immerses viewers in the mysterious and entertaining story of Raquel Rodriguez, a lawyer from the United States, who embarks on a journey to aid an ailing patriach in Mexico. Produced in 1992, the series is now free to stream online, and the textbook and workbook are available through used bookstores (I got mine at ThriftBooks) and eBay.

9.
YouTube - 10 Easy SpanishSongs
These little ditties are so catchy and a great way to strengthen pronunciation and vocabulary. The other day I even woke up singing, Mucho gusto. El gusto es mío.

10.
High Five Bilingüe
Did you know Highlights, the beloved children’s magazine founded 78 years ago, publishes a bilingual edition for very young readers? It’s a great learning tool — for all ages — and where I found this small, sweet poem.

Crescent Moon

Crescent moon,

you lean on your side, laughing,

tickled by star stories,

giving the night its smile.

 — L.A. Evans

 

Luna Creciente

Luna creciente,

recostada, te ries

con los cuentos que cuentan

las estrellas y regalas a la

noche su sonrisa.

— L.A. Evans

 To hear this poem in Spanish, copy and paste to Google Translate and experience the beauty of the language.

Your Turn: What good things are you reading, watching, learning, experiencing? I’d love to hear from you. Send me light, write!

Thankful Thursday: Confetti Days

“White petals on grass” by Ervins Strauhmanis. Licensed under Creative Commons.

Suddenly so green,

May tumbles into

summer as wind

scatters petals

of confetti in

celebration

of spring.

— Drew Myron

It’s Thankful Thursday, a weekly pause to express appreciation — big and small — for people, places, things, and more.

What are you thankful for today?

* * *

The world turns on words. Thank you for reading & writing.

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Fast Five with Susan Blackaby

“[Writing] . . . is like a magic trick, and it never gets old.”

— Susan Blackaby

Welcome to Fast Five, an occasional series in which I ask my favorite writers five questions as a way to open the door to know more.

It’s difficult to visualize the vast number of books Susan Blackaby has authored. Even she’s lost count. “Hundreds,” she says with a quick wave of the hand. An Amazon search yields more than 90 titles, representing only a portion of her portfolio.

In a career spanning 40 years, Susan has written hundreds of fiction and nonfiction books for early and struggling elementary and middle school readers, along with numerous textbooks, workbooks, and school curriculum.

Her books have sparked enthusiasm among both young readers and literacy leaders. School Library Journal has called her work “endearing and delightful.”  In 2002, the Washington Post named Rembrandt's Hat one of the top ten picture books of the year.

A prolific author, some of Susan's notables include, Where’s My Cow, Brownie Groundhog and the February Fox, G.O.A.T: Simone Biles, Cleopatra: Egypt’s Last and Greatest Queen; and an award-winning collection of poetry, Nest, Nook & Cranny. 

Susan lives in Oregon, on a bluff overlooking the Columbia River. When not writing for work, Susan (Suz to friends) writes for fun. She’s a published poet, and is currently working on a young adult novel.

1.
In a previous interview you’ve said: “I’m always writing for the little kid in the back row who is afraid to raise his hand. I feel for the fourth-grade kids who can’t read at all — these are the kids who feel defeated by school and are about to slip out of the system.” Was school difficult for you, and how can we (as writers, readers, caring adults) encourage struggling students?

I struggled with numbers and met my Waterloo in 8th grade algebra, a disaster matched only by high school chemistry. I made up for my shortcomings with a knack for words, which eventually landed me a job in educational publishing.

When my daughter had trouble learning to read, I picked up a stack of trade books ostensibly designed to support early literacy and assumed that cracking the code was within easy reach. It wasn’t. For days we tested each other’s limits sentence by sentence, working along until one of us completely lost it. After a particularly brutal afternoon, I finally took the time to analyze the materials. The book she was trying to get through had a turtle on the cover, the demoralizing slowpoke indicating Pre-K, but the readability score on the text came in at a fifth grade reading level. One sentence on a page in oversized type was apparently the extent of the criteria used to arrive at an arbitrary and misleading standard, guaranteeing frustration and failure for kids who really require conscientious support. (This infuriating book is still in print, by the way.) I circled back to get my daughter resources she could use and switched professional gears at the same time.

These days, books bundled with basal reading programs, online resources developed by educational publishers, and books developed by school-library crossover publishers adhere to strict guidelines based on sound pedagogy, and many classroom teachers have handy access to these resources—you just have to ask for help. Understanding that brain development, maturity, physical health, experience, and exposure to storytelling are all factors in the learning process can help provide a critical foundation for a fledgling reader—and equal parts patience and chocolate milk won’t go amiss.

2.
What books, movies, songs, or people have influenced your professional life — and how? 

In addition to having some really special, gifted teachers along the way, I have been lucky enough to stumble into one snug after another populated by generous mentors—patient and exacting, kind and encouraging. Many of them have stuck with me long enough to transition from coach to colleague to cohort and are now among my closest, oldest, and dearest friends. Given that a deep appreciation for and understanding of talking rabbits is part of the job description, it is no surprise that the people who create books for children comprise an inherently merry band.

Even luckier, I came from a family of clever, silly, funny, sweet people who provided a firm foundation of mirth and curiosity, whimsy and joy. I owe them everything.

3. 
Your writing life is so rich and varied, from textbooks to children's books to poetry and more. What has been your highpoint, and why?

Everything about getting a book published is a pretty heady experience, and there have been some unforgettable moments. But the very best part is sitting down with your picture book and a bunch of little people, knowing that in a single page turn you can make all of them fall over laughing at the exact same time. It is like a magic trick, and it never gets old.

4. 
What’s the best writing advice you’ve received (or given)?

Dump a toxic friend.

A number of years ago, having been to dozens of writing conferences, I was not really paying close attention to the charming if predictable keynote speech when this surprising and transformative phrase rang out. The speaker went on to explain that these people crowd your creative energy and take up tons of time, two things that you can actually put to excellent and immediate use if you are carving out a writing life. Of all the million bits of wisdom I’ve collected and tried, this one actually works.

5.
I’m a word collector. What are your favorite words?

I’m definitely a word collector. Favorites tend to shift and jostle with context, season, and whim but perennial favorites include radiance, grace, clatter, faith, resilience, wander, conjure, thump, wink.

Bonus Question: What do you wish I would have asked?

What are your musts and favorites?

Strong, milky tea; narrow-ruled yellow tablets; extra-firm Blackwing pencils; Lamy Safari fine-tipped fountain pen; snail mail; stargazer lilies; corduroy pants; the perfect raincoat (ongoing quest); cool boots; road trips; Cheezits.

* * *

The world turns on words, please read & write. 

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Messengers

Some words are messengers . . .

1.
I send words into the world. In letters and poems, in rush and ramble, in a long steady sigh. With no expectation of reply, I send words hoping they land with goodwill and grace.*

2.
A letter returns to me: Undeliverable. The faraway friend has died.

3.
A poem comes to me in the mail. A friend has sent a poem to carry in my pocket.

4.
At the end of a writing workshop, we gather around a fire. The instructor asks us to tear pages from our notebooks and burn our work. Some writers resist. Others grimace and sigh.

I rip my pages, eager for the rush of release.

5.
Words are flying and dying, settling and soaring. On this last day of National Poetry Month, I am reminded of the many ways we tend our words — chasing, feeding, teaching, releasing.

Words are birds, writes Francisco, and whether they are accepted, rejected or rejoiced, they always leave prints that mark our way.

The world turns on words, thank you for reading & writing.

* * *

Hello, and thanks for showing up.
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* [ though, of course, I love responses & replies ]

Odds, Ends, Delights

In the Columbia Gorge, balsamroot and lupine are spring’s best collaboration. Photo by Drew Myron.

Ask the world to reveal its quietude —

not the silence of machines when they are still,

but the true quiet by which birdsongs,

trees, bellworts, snails, clouds, storms

become what they are, and are nothing else.

— Wendell Berry, excerpt from Sabbaths 2001

I would add balsamroot to that list of quiets, but maybe Wendell, a Kentucky fellow, doesn’t know the joy of Oregon’s unofficial sunflower.

The spring is rich with abundance: everything blooming. My mind is full of flowers and other delightful odds, ends, and unexpecteds.

May I share a few?

Good Views:
In the cracks and creeks, in the breaking asphalt and the wide-sky fields, every place has its bit of beauty. Where I live, the slopes are now jeweled with robust clusters of balsamroot and lupine, a glorious combination of sunny yellow and vibrant purple. Their season is short and every year I say, “this is the most beautiful turnout ever.” And it always is. Nature reminds us of the power of paying attention.

Good Reading:
I was browsing Bart’s Books — my favorite outdoor bookshop — and found a book I’ve always wanted but have never managed to acquire: Given: Poems by Wendell Berry. I wasn’t on the hunt for anything in particular but simply enjoying my favorite things: sunshine and books, when there it was, just waiting for me! Given is a beautiful collection of quietude and reverence.

You’ve heard me sing the praises of Alejandro Jimenez, an award-winning performance poet from Colima, Mexico who grew up in Oregon’s Hood River Valley. His first full-length collection just came out, and it is powerful. There will be days, Brown boy is protest and song, celebration and sorrow, hero and heart. You can support grassroots poetry — and get a signed book — from Alejandro’s website.

Twenty years ago, Central Avenue, a small literary journal based in New Mexico, was the first publication to give my poems a home. Over time, the journal featured 180 poets and published more than 1,000 poems. In commemoration, editor Dale Harris with Merimee Moffitt, have published Central Avenue: Then & Now, a retrospective featuring original poems paired with new work from these same poets. I’m delighted to be included in this collection, along with good poet-people I’ve gratefully gotten to know along the way: Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer, Gary Glazner, Judyth Hill, and more.

Good Watching:
Why are so many nail salons run by Vietnamese families? If you get manicures or pedicures, or have seen the proliferation of strip mall salons, you have likely wondered about the genesis of this multi-billion dollar industry.

Nailed It, a documentary that aired in 2019 on PBS’s America Reframed series, answers this question. , from Portland, Oregon, digs deep into personal and cultural past and present to explore the inspiring impact of immigrant entrepreneurs. Watch the fascinating one-hour documentary here.

Your Turn:
Are your senses alive this spring? What are you seeing, smelling, tasting, touching, learning? What scenes and sights have stretched your attention? Books and movies, songs and stillness — what feels alive to you today?

* * *

The world turns on words. Thank you for reading & writing.

• If you know someone who might enjoy this blog — please share.

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• If you are here, reading this now — thank you!

Thankful Thursday: Poem In Your Pocket

Oh, what delight! The convergence of my favorite days: Thankful Thursday and Poem in Your Pocket Day.

Created by the Academy of American Poets as part of National Poetry Month, Poem in Your Pocket Day encourages you to carry a poem and share it with others. This year, Poem in Your Pocket Day is on Thursday, April 18, 2024. 

Call me a sap but I enjoy a designated opportunity to share poetry. I sing the praises of poems carried, clutched, swapped, and shared.

And I am reminded that writing is free. No license, permit, or permission required. Everyone — you & you & you & me — can write a line, read a poem, imagine a scene. No rules or regulations, no excuses or explanations.

Start now.

Make something.

Need a poem to share on Poem In Your Pocket Day?
Here’s one of my recent favorites: Small Kindnesses

Let’s take a break for gratitude & appreciation. Please join me for Thankful Thursday, a weekly pause to give thanks for people, places, and things in our lives.  What are you thankful for today?

* * *

The world turns on words. Thank you for reading & writing.

• If you know someone who might enjoy this blog — please share.

• If you want to read more — subscribe for free.

• If you are here, reading this now — thank you!