Sunday, June 15

To those who spend Sunday afternoons writing.



I made no record of when this appeared in The New Yorker but it was a while ago. From a scrapbook I came across as I putter and "organize" my blogging room in delicious solitude.

4 comments:

  1. Well, there it is in a nutshell. And I have to work. So what gets cut out? Um....

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  2. I know there's another blog for this...but I thought I'd share it anyway here.
    I went to a Quaker wedding yesterday. It was so moving, simple, unpretentious and beautiful that it was almost enough to make one believe in marriage again.

    Anyway...I came across this poem. I don't know if Phillip Larkin is or was a Quaker...but here it is:

    The Mower, by Philip Larkin, from Collected Poems

    The mower stalled, twice;
    kneeling, I found A hedgehog jammed up against the blades,Killed.
    It had been in the long grass.
    I had seen it before, and even fed it, once.
    Now I had mauled its unobtrusive world Unmendably.
    Burial was no help:
    Next morning I got up and it did not.
    The first day after a death, the new absence Is always the same;
    we should be careful of each other,
    we should be kind
    While there is still time.

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  3. first the koch, then the larkin. such a fine beginning to this post-father's day.
    and i'm reminded once again that i never fully appreciated either of them until after they died. koch especially. his talent was far larger than it would seem to the casual reader.

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  4. Yup! Nice piece!

    Back when I was teaching, I used to tell my students there was homework, sleep, and socializing, and most nights, they could only pick 2 out of the 3, and they had to figure that balance out. Those wacky priorities...

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