Loading summary
Transcript2 lines
- [00:01]
A
If you could hear love, what would it sound like? Son, can we talk about your drinking? Yeah, Dad, I think we should helping those closest to you think about their excessive drinking. Maybe that's what love sounds like. More@rethinkthedrink.com An OHA initiative.
- [00:37]
B
I'm major Jackson and this is the Slowdown. My children are grown. Romy turned 21 this year, which is wild. I am effectively an empty nester, which means I look forward to the holidays. Like a farmer waiting for the harvest season. I don't see them enough, and I worry that too many phone calls from me might disrupt their days. I keep it cool and occasionally text them. Meanwhile, I look at the calendar, prepare rooms in my home, and ponder which dinners and movies and board games we can share. When I was younger, as an introverted kid, I did not value large family gatherings during holidays, especially not Thanksgiving. Everyone squeezed into my grandparents home. My uncle sat in front of the tv, transfixed by a football game. Tons of aunts at the dining table smoked and chatted away about their jobs. My cousins played ping pong in the basement and showed each other the latest dance craze. I thought it was merely a day of noise. When my father married into a large family replete with stepsiblings, these gatherings went longer. Now I appreciate what I once shunned. Gather me among kinfolks. Let's talk loudly with drinks in our hands. Let's enjoy the bounty of family and rituals that fill us with connection and the purpose of loving each other. And when we sit down to dinner, let our blessings surround us. Let us relish joyful interactions. Today's poem speaks to our deep seated hunger for closeness. The poet points to the sensory experience of emotional sustenance and familial love, but they also capture the profound absence within us when our lives are depleted of touch. Farmers Market by Molly Fisk Yesterday I was so lonely I could barely walk. My friend being mobbed by her grandchildren as we made our way past the farmers market. Delicata squashes the last tomatoes I couldn't think what to buy. Came home with nothing but sweet peppers, myriad colors in a single flavor, an elusive solitary note. I watched her lay her cheek against the downy faces saying love, love, love, love. And would have wept except I'm dry of tears. I love how she loves them and that she has them. I love them all from my arm's length distance, half familiar grandmother's friend with a laughing eye glasses one might want to pluck from the top of her head all that touch that flesh, the body heat Fingers woven together. I am starving. The Slowdown is a production of American Public Media in partnership with the Poet Foundation. This project is also supported in part by the National Endowment for the Arts. On the web@arts.gov to get a poem delivered to you daily, go to slowdownshow.org and sign up for our newsletter and find us on Instagram @downdownshow. Give your loved ones the gift of poetry this year with Poetry Magazine. Poetry's gift bundle includes a one year print and digital subscription to the magazine, plus a limited edition tote bag. Your loved ones will receive 10 beautifully curated volumes of contemporary poetry and unlimited digital access through the Poetry Magazine app. It's a gift that lasts all year. Subscribe today@poetrymagazine.org slow that's poetrymagazine.org slow.