Day 120 (Written Tuesday April 10) ~ Somehow I imagine certain events to be like a collision course between an asteroid and a planet. Both exist in their own world, oblivious to the existence of one another. They pass by one another in the same general location but they never notice one another. Year after year passes and neither is aware of the fact that they are on a course to collide in the future, and until that day comes, they will be completely unaware.
A few years back I was grilling on a Saturday evening, on the overlook as usual, watching the water and relaxing in the tranquil melancholy of having nothing important to do. At times like that I love to turn on the radio and listen to things that my family has zero interest in. On this particular day that was listening to A Prairie Home Companion. For those of you scratching your head, APHC is an old fashioned radio variety show that is done live each Saturday evening. It was started in 1974 by Garrison Keiler and features performances from all styles of musicians and singers, fake commercial, serial comedy skits, tales from Lake Wobegone and literary readings. Admittedly it’s not for everyone, but it is for me. I love listening and laughing at the silliness and am soothed by Garrison Keilers deep, monotone, slow Minnesota voice.
On this particular evening I was introduced to two things that have since become favorites. One was the music of Brandy Carlisle, perhaps I will write about her later in more detail (though I already touched on her music here http://brandonbritton.blogspot.com/2012/02/name-that-tune.html) and the other was the writings, namely the poetry, of Raymond Carver.
In my previous 30 some odd years I had no idea that my life was on a collision course with some writings that would bury themselves in my heart. The impact made that Saturday evening, as I listened to that hypnotic voice of Garrison Keiler reading the poem, “This Morning”, leaving me in a trance, still resonates today as I hold the book “Ultra~Marine” in my lap.
The next day I scoured the internet trying desperately to find the name of the poem and the author too. Finally I discovered it was Raymond Carver, who sadly had died over twenty years ago. The poem, “This Morning” was in the book of poems, “Ultra~Marine”, published two years before his death. I was able to find a copy online and ordered it that very day. When it finally arrived, I devoured it. Each poem seemed to connect with me even more than the previous one. There is something about his voice (not the sound coming out of his mouth, but the tone in which he writes, although I will admit Garrison Keiler reads his poetry in a way that amplifies its profundity, perhaps because it has such a subtle sadness to it) that strikes a chord with my heart. He has the ability to make me feel like he is writing my very thoughts, which I guess is what makes a writing a truly great piece of literature. It’s was makes it art. In the future, I will share with you some of the poems of Raymond Carver that I love so much. Until then, let this serve as a tiny appetizer:
“As he writes, without looking at the sea, he feels the tip of his pen being to tremble. The tide is going out across the shingle. But it isn’t that. No, it’s because at that moment she chooses to walk into the room...He sees her through the doorway. Maybe she’s remembering what happened that morning. For after a time, she opens one eye and looks at him. And sweetly smiles.”
Raymond Carver, “An Afternoon”
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