Thank you for this poem, and for being a good neighbor. I am reading Rain on the River: Selected Poems and Short Prose by Jim Dodge. Came across this poem, and immediately thought of you. "Life of the Spirit" A salmon leaps. / Transcend what?
I was just telling my daughter that people don't grow up sharing experiences the way we did in the past. Even if it was just to talk about The Sopranos, which was only on at a certain time, not whenever you felt like watching. There are more choices today and less to talk about.
Thanks. Great story and perfect wrap. Now I’m reminded of your fiction you published. October. Memories of ancestors. Or?accidents with fatalities. Dream.
Poignant. While walking my dog, I paused for a brief chat with two neighbors. I realized they didn't have a clue who I "really" was, carried an assumption because of visitors a decade ago. I considered saying, how about a chat, let me tell you about myself. It didn't feel that friendly a chat. And I was wearing a witch's hat, which I do every October. ;-). I have wondered if I die, or rather, when, who would notice and what they would remember. Misinterpretations?
Many years ago, a woman I saw everyday at work, briefly acknowledging one another as we passed in the hall, maybe even saying hello from time to time, but never really talking, learning about one another... threw herself in front of a subway and died. I regretted so much not having engaged more with her. Might it have made a difference? I'll never know.
We walk side by side with our fellow humans, but if we don't make connections then it's simply that. Walking in parallel lines, never touching or crossing. Your poem is a good reminder for me to make those connections. Because - you never know how you might affect someone's life.
I agree with Linda Loegel Hemby....very poignant..perfect description. It broke my heart. We do live in a world where we don't know our neighbors. I grew up in a small town where you did...but once I moved to "urban America", the neighbors were cyphers. Even now, when I live in "the country" (i.e. "the sticks") the neighbor interaction is essentially non-existent. I find my actual "neighbors" in my tiny parish in a nearby town.
Somehow this reminds me of a line from Robert Frost: “Good fences make good neighbors.”
A remarkable blend of genuine grief and quiet humor as I read it. Well done.
Hello there Sherman, we look to have similar interests, so I thought I’d say hi; I’ve not been on here long.
I write about historical curiosity’s, through a philosophical lens.
I thought you may enjoy my latest piece on Giants:
https://open.substack.com/pub/jordannuttall/p/giants-in-newspapers?r=4f55i2&utm_medium=ios
Somehow, at least I want to believe, he is grateful for this poem.
Beautiful rhymes and enjambment. “Venal sin” is perfect. Well done.
"venial" a bit of a difference.
I stand corrected.
We have to look out for each other, Daniel. (Insert smiley face.)
we have forgotten how to connect / how community is built on sharing real life / thanks for recognizing this
Thank you for this poem, and for being a good neighbor. I am reading Rain on the River: Selected Poems and Short Prose by Jim Dodge. Came across this poem, and immediately thought of you. "Life of the Spirit" A salmon leaps. / Transcend what?
This is a really fine description of the modern world, without being overly bitter.
I was just telling my daughter that people don't grow up sharing experiences the way we did in the past. Even if it was just to talk about The Sopranos, which was only on at a certain time, not whenever you felt like watching. There are more choices today and less to talk about.
Thanks. Great story and perfect wrap. Now I’m reminded of your fiction you published. October. Memories of ancestors. Or?accidents with fatalities. Dream.
Poignant. While walking my dog, I paused for a brief chat with two neighbors. I realized they didn't have a clue who I "really" was, carried an assumption because of visitors a decade ago. I considered saying, how about a chat, let me tell you about myself. It didn't feel that friendly a chat. And I was wearing a witch's hat, which I do every October. ;-). I have wondered if I die, or rather, when, who would notice and what they would remember. Misinterpretations?
How sad! Sad how we fail people that way.
I see your recycling of his newspapers as an act of love. You noticed and acknowledged him, and he moves on to be renewed.
Many years ago, a woman I saw everyday at work, briefly acknowledging one another as we passed in the hall, maybe even saying hello from time to time, but never really talking, learning about one another... threw herself in front of a subway and died. I regretted so much not having engaged more with her. Might it have made a difference? I'll never know.
We walk side by side with our fellow humans, but if we don't make connections then it's simply that. Walking in parallel lines, never touching or crossing. Your poem is a good reminder for me to make those connections. Because - you never know how you might affect someone's life.
A keen observation and comment, Sherman!
I agree with Linda Loegel Hemby....very poignant..perfect description. It broke my heart. We do live in a world where we don't know our neighbors. I grew up in a small town where you did...but once I moved to "urban America", the neighbors were cyphers. Even now, when I live in "the country" (i.e. "the sticks") the neighbor interaction is essentially non-existent. I find my actual "neighbors" in my tiny parish in a nearby town.