Poetry Placement (a response)

I was happy to read Kirsten Ogden's Poetry Placement on The Kenyon Review blog on Wednesday. I think she's on to something: using "poetry placement" like companies use "product placement" to promote their merchandise. I missed the episode of AMC's Mad Men that she is referring to; well - ok, I haven't seen a single episode. It looks like a smart, entertaining show, but 10 pm on a work night?...well, yes, it's past my bedtime. I think it's time to include it on my FiOs DVR. But I digress.

Mad Men is popular, and mentioning a sophisticated collection of poetry by one of the key poets of our modern age in the context of the show surely caught the attention of a lot of people...people who probably never heard of Frank O'Hara or his book...people who are now interested in reading it to see what all the hype is about. I didn't even see the episode, and I'm interested! That's pretty good.

Now, I'm not saying that if poetry is prominently mentioned on TV or in a movie, etc., the audience would necessarily feel the urge to go to their local Barnes & Noble to snatch it up. I mean, when you think about movies - each time you see a can of Coke or a FedEx box (Cast Away, anyone?) or such - that doesn't mean that you will go out and become a preferred Coke drinker after years of drinking Pepsi (just an example). But it will get your attention. And stay in your mind...Maybe make you curious... And poetry is much better for you than Coke. It's the real thing.

Spoke'N'Word

When most people think of "bikers", images of the scruffy/grizzly, tattooed, leather-clad warriors of the road who cuss worse than a sailor and have a maniacal look in their eyes come to mind. I suppose some are, but truthfully - most aren't. I'm not a biker, but in the past few years, I have come to know many and have been surprised by how much they dispell the stereotype. Even if they have that rough'n'tumble look about them, bikers are intelligent, often hold a white-collar job, live well, and would seem more at-home on the golf course than on a steel horse.

Why do I mention this? In two words: Road Poet (and its sibling Road Poet-NY). I recently learned that August is National Biker Poetry Month (NBPM). Bikers and poetry? That combination seems as likely as Britney Spears opening for Metallica. But it's true - and why not? OK - yes, I'm a skirt and have never been on a bike. From what I hear, though, there is such a sense of freedom, a sense that all is right with the world, verging almost on the philosophical and spiritual, that it must be inspiring.

I'm going to explore this Road Poet a little more, but in case you're interested in NBPM, there is a schedule for those of you in the Northeast on Road-Poet NY. Check it out.

Thought of the Day #3

Don't worry about what other people think; do it for your own enjoyment.

Could we be better neighbors?

I live on a sleepy, dead-end street. At the end of the street are tracks for the local train, lightly hidden by a scattering of trees; behind my house - a cemetery. Can't ask for quieter neighbors than that. The houses all around us have children under the age of 10, and it's nice to see the kids play out in the street with each other, unaffected by traffic or the pressures of the world. Neighbors say hello and even chat a bit. All told, it's a pleasant place to be.

Still, and an older neighbor pointed this out to us a few weeks ago, there are some neighbors that move in and we have no idea who they are. They don't have block parties like they used to. I don't even know much about the neighbors I do talk to. Most places, people don't even get that much from their neighbors. What do you really know about the people next door to you? I think we've become so isolated in our little worlds. Antisocial? Definitely. I know I don't go out of my way to be involved in their lives, and they do the same. We tend to shut down and focus on our own problems rather than opening up to new people. It's really nothing new. Life isn't a Leave it to Beaver episode...although it did seem different when I was a kid.

I think that's why I smiled when I read Why Mr. Rogers was the Best Neighbor Ever. Who doesn't remember the cardigan-clad man with the slow drawl and zippy sneakers? He seemed so harmless - and he was. I guess we have to be cynical and wary of people; better to not trust than to find that you have a pedophile or murderer as a neighbor. Still, it's nice to imagine, for a minute, that our guards are down and we can trust again.