Loading summary
Transcript3 lines
- [00:01]
A
Anxiety, depression, bipolar disorder. At least half of us will experience a mental illness in our lifetime. In a new series of special reports from Call to Mind, we hear about the mental health impact of stress, climate change, immigration and more. Tune in for conversations with people managing hardship and experts seeking solutions. Listen to Call to Mind from American Public Media.
- [00:30]
B
All new drinks are now at McDonald's, like the strawberry Watermelon Refresher and the Sprite Berry Blast topped with cold foam. Who knew ice cold drinks could be so fire? Try them all now at McDonald's. Refreshers contain caffeine.
- [00:51]
C
I'm Maggie Smith, and this is the Slow down. A decade or so ago, I had the privilege of co teaching a couple of workshops with the poet Stanley Plumlee. Through those experiences, he became not only a mentor but a friend. At one point I was thinking out loud to him about living in my hometown, or at least in the surrounding suburbs. My entire life I was wondering about the wisdom or error in staying put. Had it been limiting, would I benefit from a change? In an email, Stan wrote, you made an important choice staying home in Ohio. It serves your work. American poetry is largely an issue of region. His words reassured me, and more than that, reaffirmed my pride of place and my sense of being grounded in the art. He gave me permission to embrace my own regionality as a writer. He'd always say in workshops, exploit your territory. He encouraged writers to lean into the regional instead of running from it. I now tell my students the same thing. Be exactly who you are and be from where you're from unapologetically. Show us that life, tell us those stories, and let your people speak. Today's poem exploits its territory and does it masterfully. The Village by Mark Harshman Armageddon is not here, though the semis are hard at work, hauling bits and pieces of it from Rutland down to Troy. He once stood by the side of a brook just to hear it hum its name over and over. The postman is friendly, and Mrs. Roberts has a dozen pots filled with red geraniums on her sill, and this little town has no need of his memories. A stamp will do to carry a heart from one door to the next. The Air Force has not been heard from today, and the clock reads a quarter past nine. The war stays away a while longer. What was he in such a big hurry about? Elmer raises Hampshires, mostly sold as yearlings, always saves two to butcher at Thanksgiving. Listen, I tell you, it is not good what they're doing down there beside the meadow in the afternoon. It is a meadow wan with orchard grass and gold butter medallions of hawkweed. He can see them from the chair where Thelma cuts hair in the closet behind the bookshop. The black rigs on moonless nights pull up at the sheet metal warehouse beside the river road. They are stealing the future one minute at a time, and it is going on right under our noses. There is still a liar's bench where all the true stories are told. The war is never over for them. This explains why they listen so carefully, even the gossip about what goes on at night when no one is awake. He slept well, and she served cornmeal pancakes with syrup drawn from a maple outside the door. Still, he felt compelled to tell them what he knew. They pretended that they had heard it all before. Sometimes at night, here in the city far away, he believes them. The Slowdown is a production of American Public Media in partnership with the Poetry Foundation. To get a poem delivered to you daily, go to slowdownshow.org and sign up for our newsletter and find us on Instagram slowdownshow and blue sky@downdownshow.org. Hey, it's Maggie. What poems have you sent friends and loved ones to inspire a pause, reflection, or Slowdown? We want you to send us your selections, your favorite poems to be featured in a series of upcoming episodes. Go to the link in our Show Notes to submit or head to our Instagram LowdownShow to learn more.