{"id":7565,"date":"2014-11-28T23:17:56","date_gmt":"2014-11-28T23:17:56","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/solaceinabook.com\/site\/?p=7565"},"modified":"2014-11-28T23:17:56","modified_gmt":"2014-11-28T23:17:56","slug":"my-first-black-friday","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/solaceinabook.com\/site\/2014\/11\/my-first-black-friday\/","title":{"rendered":"My first Black Friday"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>Happy Black Friday.<\/strong> I\u2019ve been mulling over this post; I don\u2019t know why.<\/p>\n

Way back on the first of the month, Jim Daniel\u2019s<\/strong> poem “Anthem”<\/strong> was featured on The Writer\u2019s Almanac with Garrison Keillor<\/em><\/strong>. It\u2019s a poem that makes me think of my father. Check it out here.<\/a><\/p>\n

Thanksgiving time makes me think of him too. My father died the day after Thanksgiving in 1966. So for my post today, I\u2019m sharing the poem I made up about him, and how I miss him.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s my way of commemorating the date of his death. Do you know W. S. Merwin\u2019s <\/strong>poem \u201cFor the Anniversary of My Death?\u201d <\/strong> \u201cEvery year without knowing it I have passed the day \/ When the last fires will wave to me \u201c Check it out here<\/strong><\/em><\/a>.<\/p>\n

Peace, love, and solace<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Remembering the Maine<\/strong><\/p>\n

or<\/strong><\/p>\n

Johnnie, April 10, 1927, Oakland Calif<\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/strong><\/p>\n

Here\u2019s a wavy print of you, Dad, in black, white, and gray,<\/p>\n

spectacles peeking from a salvaged torpedo port<\/p>\n

of the U. S. S. Maine. It was blown to bits in Cuba<\/p>\n

some 30 years earlier. On a trip with Maurice and Sue,<\/p>\n

you\u2019re far from home, driving through California,<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

wearing a suit coat though it looks near noon.<\/p>\n

The fierce wind and unrelenting sun make you<\/p>\n

want a drink, to roll up your sleeves, maybe peel<\/p>\n

down to your undershirt. Let\u2019s hope you found a crab<\/p>\n

shack somewhere with\u00a0 fresh fish and cold beer.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I bet the week was Maurice\u2019s idea. We might<\/p>\n

as well travel, he\u2019d say, our old man took to it.<\/p>\n

The snapshots from Sue\u2019s camera<\/p>\n

show how the wind whipped so the first time<\/p>\n

you saw the Pacific, peaceful it\u2019s not.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Imagine–the torpedo port that frames your smile<\/p>\n

might have been the last thing a sailor saw before<\/p>\n

that February night exploded.\u00a0 This salvaged<\/p>\n

memento had to be hauled across country.<\/p>\n

Why\u2014does it honor a local man?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

You never swim that whole trip, wild wind, harsh coast.<\/p>\n

no time.\u00a0 Once a broken-down trucker<\/p>\n

said something to Sue and you had to leave because<\/p>\n

he was so drunk, and there\u2019s no telling with drinking.<\/p>\n

That night, in a little place off the highway, where<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

seashells outlined the paths and beds, all in a row,<\/p>\n

like Mary Contrary\u2019s garden, the lime trees<\/p>\n

so precious they could grace a dollhouse lawn,<\/p>\n

you could still hear that furious wind.<\/p>\n

History says the Maine brought us to war though<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I don\u2019t recall — was it an explosion or a fire?<\/p>\n

It\u2019s like explaining this photo to which I must<\/p>\n

give a story. Truth is, I don\u2019t know so I make it up,<\/p>\n

your life and trips–you.\u00a0 Well, most of you.<\/p>\n

The wind doesn\u2019t cease, that\u2019s what you seem to say,<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

the man, whose smile, in the mirror, I look for still.<\/p>\n

\u00a9 Ellen Wade Beals<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Happy Black Friday. I\u2019ve been mulling over this post; I don\u2019t know why. Way back on the first of the month, Jim Daniel\u2019s poem “Anthem” was featured on The Writer\u2019s Almanac with Garrison Keillor. It\u2019s a poem that makes me think of my father. Check it out here. Thanksgiving time makes me think of him […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[2391,1166,12,2390,13,7,32],"class_list":{"0":"post-7565","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-uncategorized","7":"tag-black-friday","8":"tag-death","9":"tag-ellen-wade-beals","10":"tag-father","11":"tag-poetry","12":"tag-solace","13":"tag-weighed-words","14":"entry","15":"has-post-thumbnail"},"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/solaceinabook.com\/site\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7565","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/solaceinabook.com\/site\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/solaceinabook.com\/site\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/solaceinabook.com\/site\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/solaceinabook.com\/site\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=7565"}],"version-history":[{"count":14,"href":"https:\/\/solaceinabook.com\/site\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7565\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7580,"href":"https:\/\/solaceinabook.com\/site\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7565\/revisions\/7580"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/solaceinabook.com\/site\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=7565"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/solaceinabook.com\/site\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=7565"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/solaceinabook.com\/site\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=7565"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}