~ “Rain” by Raymond Carver
~ “Rain” by Raymond Carver
Do you have hope for the future? someone asked Robert Frost, toward the end.
Yes, and even for the past, he replied, that it will turn out to have been all right for what it was, something we can accept, mistakes made by the selves we had to be, not able to be, perhaps, what we wished, or what looking back half the time it seems we could so easily have been, or ought…
The future, yes, and even for the past, that it will become something we can bear.
And I too, and my children, so I hope, will recall as not too heavy the tug of those albatrosses I sadly placed upon their tender necks.
Hope for the past, yes, old Frost, your words provide that courage, and it brings strange peace that itself passes into past, easier to bear because you said it, rather casually, as snow went on falling in Vermont years ago.
~ David Ray, “Thanks, Robert Frost.”
David Ray, 82, was born in Sapulpa, Oklahoma. Ray comes from a broken home that was thrown into upheaval when his father left the family by hopping on the back of a watermelon truck headed to California. After his mother’s next failed marriage ended in the suicide of Ray’s stepfather, he and his sister Mary Ellen were placed into foster care—a system that wasn’t kind to young children in the late 1930s and early 1940s. Ray’s classic “Mulberries of Mingo” steeps from memories of he and his sister being thrown out of a foster families home at dinner time – to fend for themselves eating the mulberries from a neighbor’s tree. The years that followed were dark and tragic as he and his sister were separated to face their separate nightmares of abuse. He is a distinguished award winner, and has lectured and read at over 100 Universities in England, Canada and the U.S. Graduating from the University of Chicago, BA, MA. Ray’s poetry varies from short, three to four lines pieces, to longer 30 lines poems. His work is also often autobiographical, providing unique context and insight to scenes of childhood, love, fear, sex, and travel. “Communication is important to him, and he has the courage, working with a genre in which simplicity is suspect, to say plainly what he means.” He and his wife, poet and essayist Judy Ray, live in Tucson, Arizona.
Studs Terkel: “David Ray’s poetry has always been radiant even though personal tragedy has suffused it.” [Read more…]
Source: Living in Maine
“I learned that when the going gets tough, I’ve got to stick in there a bit more and I’ve got to grind it out. There’s no excuse for quitting, and it doesn’t set a good example for the kids watching me, trying to emulate what I do. It wasn’t good for a whole lot of reasons, for the tournament, the people coming out to watch me. I feel like I let a lot of people down with what I did last week and you know, for that I am very sorry.”
~ Rory McIlroy, 23, is the world’s No. 1 golfer.
He was seven over par after eight holes and looking at another potential bogey or worse after his second shot on the par-5 18th landed in the water. He withdrew without finishing his ninth hole. An hour later, he released a statement saying a sore wisdom tooth had made it impossible for him to continue.
Good for you young man. Good for you to own up…
Source: New York Times
Woke up this morning with
a terrific urge to lie in bed all day
and read. Fought against it for a minute.
Then looked out the window at the rain.
And gave over. Put myself entirely
in the keep of this rainy morning.
Would I live my life over again?
Make the same unforgiveable mistakes?
Yes, given half a chance. Yes.
~ Raymond Carver, “Rain”
“If you have no sadness or remorse, you are a liar or a denier, or worse still, you haven’t lived. No one makes it through life without words better left unsaid, poor judgments or thoughtless omissions. I can barely make it through the day without all three.”
~ Erica Brown (NY Times – A Nice Opportunity for Regret)
Image Source: Tigran
4:15 am. I’m running. Thoughts clanking and clanking and clanking around.
Mother Goose and 5 goslings on highway. Car approaching. I slow to see if they get out of the way. I stop. Car slows. Car stops.
Mother opens her full wing span and stands hissing in the middle of the highway – – guarding her babies against a 4000 pound mass of steel. Babies waddle off the road with Mother following closely behind. Car passes by.
I start running again. Another car approaching one mile out. I see the geese back on the highway.