Wednesday, February 24, 2010


I've been receiving bon voyage calls. Justice called Monday and I spoke with Wallis and Annie, too. Yesterday I spoke with Myrna. Soon after Bruce called and I had a long talk with Bud as well. Angeline left a phone message but I get about 3 e-mails a day from her now.
About his father John Greenleaf Whittier had this to say, "A prompt, decisive man, no breath, Our father wasted." My Grandmother Vanoss introduced me to Whittier before I was 10 years old. It was she who who gave me a poet I could love. She gave me her old and worn collection of Whittier poems when I turned twelve. I still cherish it. When she came to visit us in Cass Lake she would sit in the rocker and I would sit at her feet. I would read her favorites to her. She had marked them when she was a school girl at Carlisle PA. The collection included his master piece, "Snow Bound". However, I favored "School Days", "Maud Muller", "Barbara Fritchie", and "The Barefoot Boy". I thought he was really a girl like me. Of being a poet Whittier wrote, "I mistake, occasionally, simple excitement for inspiration."
Mae Sarton wrote of her dilemma as a writer, "I... sometimes feel accused for not doing a better job, for not being more thorough and patient. The problem is that the material is so rich and varied..." After she had lashed herself for not being perfect she wrote, "Well, it's worth trying."
I've been watching "The Train" with Burt Lancaster. The old train fascinates me. When we lived in Fosston (1940s) we were nearly on the RR track. I loved to watch the engines load coal and water. They were steam powered in those days and pulled a red caboose.
Phillips Brooks, "...our grief is bound up with our love." Hickman, "My loved one is as much a part of my life as the air and food and water that nourishes my body."

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