Just curious, Mr Ritchie if you've been to Glencoe before, site of another famous massacre... On Thu, 19 Oct 2006 17:01:50 -0700, "David Ritchie" <ritchierd@xxxxxxxxxxxxx> said: > Before reaching the site where proselytizers were killed-- > they were inefficiently spreading gospel and measles, > it's a tragic tale, with a kid drowning and Mrs. Eel raising the alarm-- > we sped past stands of new wind-generating mills, > some old boarded stores, > many thriving wineries, > and a cheese shop that, > possibly in view of the auld alliance-- > but I doubt this was intended-- > sold Tobermory cheddar with French blue infection. > > We entered Walla Walla off route 125, > met the new president-- > a sociologist with all the necessary bow and Washington ties-- > were talked at and to, > sampled classroom experiences, > how the cafeteria treats Indian food. > > You'll have guessed we were wondering > whether to send our daughter to Whitman, > a college built beside the site of a famous slaughter. > A first hint of how my judgment would go > was when Deborah Butterfield's lovely stick horse > suddenly reminded me of bones. > > We drove home. > > Now I reflect and prefer to recommend > the other event of that weekend, > turning fifty with friends. > > Sometimes it is the company that makes a mood. > People ask how I feel about knowing life is half or maybe two thirds > gone. > I tell them of our crabbing expedition-- > the falling tide must be blamed for our poor haul-- > our Ancient and Venerable Order of Fishy Geezers' foundation outing, > and the very good steaks we bought on the road home. > > Like veterans, those who came to dinner-- > nurses, physical therapists, artists, doctors-- > in their daily rounds often note > both signs of hope > and decay. > > So we all savored, if not each bite going-- > some swallows I confess slipped through-- > the laughter, chatter, patter and wit > around the table, > the full ribbed round of > warm hours burning down. > > With last finger licks and tastes of champagne, > folk surveyed the final rubble on the table. > Nor Huns nor Romans, nor even Henry eight, spared > and wrapped up cake for you, > clutched it, > vanished with designated drivers in the wee hours, > and happiness under arms, way west of Waiilatpu. > I went up to bed. > > David Ritchie, > Portland, Oregon > > ------------------------------------------------------------------ > To change your Lit-Ideas settings (subscribe/unsub, vacation on/off, > digest on/off), visit www.andreas.com/faq-lit-ideas.html -- Steve Chilson stevechilson@xxxxxxxxxxx -- http://www.fastmail.fm - Email service worth paying for. Try it for free ------------------------------------------------------------------ To change your Lit-Ideas settings (subscribe/unsub, vacation on/off, digest on/off), visit www.andreas.com/faq-lit-ideas.html