A Living, Breathing Example of "Not in My Name."

Here is an open letter from the poet Sharon Olds to Laura Bush
declining the invitation to read and speak at the National Book
Critics Circle Award in Washington, DC. Sharon Olds is
one of most widely read and critically acclaimed poets living in
America today. Read to the end of the letter to experience her
restrained, chilling eloquence.

Laura Bush
First Lady, The White House

Dear Mrs. Bush,

I am writing to let you know why I am not able to accept your kind invitation to give a presentation at the National Book Festival on September 24, or to attend your dinner at the Library of Congress or the breakfast at the White House.

In one way, it's a very appealing invitation. The idea of speaking at a festival attended by 85,000 people is inspiring! The possibility of finding new readers is exciting for a poet in personal terms, and in terms of the desire that poetry serve its constituents--all of us who
need the pleasure, and the inner and outer news, it delivers.

And the concept of a community of readers and writers has long been dear to my heart. As a professor of creative writing in the graduate school of a major university, I have had the chance to be a part of some magnificent outreach writing workshops in which our students have become teachers. Over the years, they have taught in a variety of settings: a women's prison, several New York City public high schools, an oncology ward for children.

Our initial program, at a 900-bed state hospital for the severely physically challenged, has been running now for twenty years, creating along the way lasting friendships between young MFA candidates and their students -- long-term residents at the hospital who, in their humor, courage and wisdom, become our teachers.

When you have witnessed someone nonspeaking and almost nonmoving spell out, with a toe, on a big plastic alphabet chart, letter by letter, his new poem, you have experienced, close up, the passion and essentialness of writing.

When you have held up a small cardboard alphabet card for a writer who is completely nonspeaking and nonmoving (except for the eyes), and pointed first to the A, then the B, then C, then D, until you get to the first letter of the first word of the first line of the poem she has been composing in her head all week, and she lifts her eyes when that letter is touched to say yes, you feel with a fresh immediacy the human drive for creation, self-expression, accuracy, honesty and wit -- and the importance of writing, which celebrates the value of each person's unique story and song.

So the prospect of a festival of books seemed wonderful to me. I thought of the opportunity to talk about how to start up an outreach program. I thought of the chance to sell some books, sign some books and meet some of the citizens of Washington, DC. I thought that I could try to find a way, even as your guest, with respect, to speak about my deep feeling that we should not have invaded Iraq, and to declare my belief that the wish to invade another culture and another country -- with the resultant loss of life and limb for our brave soldiers, and for the noncombatants in their home terrain -- did not come out of our democracy but was instead a decision made "at the top" and forced on the people by distorted language, and by untruths. I hoped to express the fear that we have begun to live in the shadows of tyranny and religious chauvinism -- the opposites of the liberty,
tolerance and diversity our nation aspires to.

I tried to see my way clear to attend the festival in order to bear witness -- as an American who loves her country and its principles and its writing -- against this undeclared and devastating war.

But I could not face the idea of breaking bread with you. I knew that if I sat down to eat with you, it would feel to me as if I were condoning what I see to be the wild, highhanded actions of the Bush Administration.

What kept coming to the fore of my mind was that I would be taking food from the hand of the First Lady who represents the Administration that unleashed this war and that wills its continuation, even to the extent of permitting "extraordinary rendition": flying people to other countries where they will be tortured for us.

So many Americans who had felt pride in our country now feel anguish and shame, for the current regime of blood, wounds and fire. I thought of the clean linens at your table, the shining knives and the flames of the candles, and I could not stomach it.

Sincerely,

SHARON OLDS

Put A Cork In It (Them)

You know, you hear about this, but it's still a little hard to believe.

We COULD eat less meat. But, then ADM and Cargill shares would fall. We can't have THAT can we?

I'll tell you one other thing. The dog is adding her fair share of methane to the atmosphere. I might contribute a puff or two myself.

Weekend Update...

OK, it's Wednesday already. I know I'm late with the Little Rock report. But, it has taken me a while to sort it all out in my mind. So here's the short version: It was fantastic! Now the longer:

mary anne radmacher and me
She's the authoress. Remember, she doesn't use capital letters. We finally met in the lobby of the Peabody Hotel late Friday afternoon. From that point on it was a whirlwind. Saturday morning we were treated to a private tour of the William J. Clinton (our last actual President) Presidential Library by a really close FOB(Friend of bill) Paul Leopoulos. Boy a nicer guy you have never met.

Paul gave an insight into the workings of President Clinton that we never get in the media. They've known each other since third grade, but Paul still gets emotional when recalling the life of his friend. By the time we parted company Saturday night we felt like we had known each other for years. Paul and his wife Linda run "THEA Foundation" to honor the life of their daughter Thea who was tragically killed in an auto accident several years ago. Thea was a promising artist and the foundation is in support of the arts.

Totally unrelated and stupid aside: West Virginia Easter Egg once rolled at the Clinton White House. Once a Mountaineer always a Mountaineer!
So after the tour we set up in the Clinton Museum/Book/souvenir store for the book signing.

We signed around 600 books. When I say "we" I mean everyone who had a part in "Lean Forward Into Your Life." I think there were seven of us. Just the nicest, most interesting group (OK, outside of my recruitment tribe) of liberals you could imagine. We had a ball.
Now at this point I would like to introduce mary anne's new husband, David.

As you may guess he is a character. You would be correct. The kilt is in honor of his Scottish heritage. Turns out the guy wore it at their wedding on March 21st. Only at the wedding he wore a traditional Scottish knife (I don't know the proper name for it) tucked into his knee length socks. Gotta admire a man who comes to his own wedding packing a shiv.

Not to be outdone I wore the sherwani I got in India a couple years ago. I never get to wear it, so I figured this was as good an excuse as any. Besides women like it.

So we're signing our books and having a high old time when I suddenly remember that Heifer International, my favorite charity, is headquartered in Little Rock. Turns out it is next door to the Clinton Library. Sadly, by the time I got there they were closed. But, I took this picture in front of it.

So now comes the really amazing part. The last event of the day was a little gathering in the publisher's suite. Those who contributed to the book were each to give a reading of our respective parts. mary anne had me go first. By this time the story of how we "met" through my blog was pretty well known. So, I read my little story and I have to say the response was very good. I was surprised. I mean I thought it was pretty good, but I might be prejudiced. (No ego problems here.)

Then Jan Johnson, the publisher, asks "do you write like THAT in your blog?" mary anne jumps in with and emphatic "Yes he does!" Next thing you know Jan is asking for the blog URL. There had been some talk earlier of publishing blogs in book form (blooks). I told her I one day want to publish this blog and call it "The Best of The Best of What's Left."

So Jan, if you're reading this, please consider my shameless self-promotion. Like every other faux pas I commit, it's done with the best of intentions.

So it was a rare experience, one I won't forget (at least until the Alzheimer's fully kicks in). Kind of motivates me to write that book I've been mulling around. Not the blog book, a different one. Most of the people you meet in the blog would be in it. Even Saps. I've written three pages already. Only 947 to go...

This Should Be Good

Some of you know the story. But without having to search back through five hundred posts here it is:

About a year or so ago I posted a poem entitled "Live With Intention" by mary anne radmacher (she doesn't like to use capital letters, OK?). AND I made a crack about how she was probably 106 years old and her idea of living on the edge was to skip her Metamucil for a day.

A little while later this very same mary anne radmacher e-mails me! Of course she took umbrage at my remark (justifiably it turns out). She's not even as old as me. She had Googled her own name and found this blog. It also turns out she was under contract to write a book and after reading the eloquent prose of my many musings wanted to ask if I would contribute to the book.

Anyone who knows me knows, as modest as I am, I still will always (usually) leap at the chance to do something a tad askew from the normal daily crapola.

So I wrote. And I have to say I was pretty pleased with what I wrote. So was she and even more astonishingly so were the editors. My story made the final cut, unlike my attempt to get on "Survivor," which is a whole 'nother yarn.

So this weekend is the big coming out party (I don't know what they actually call it) of the book, which is titled "Lean forward into your Life"(available on Amazon for $10.88 plus shipping. Follow the link.). This soiree will be at the William Jefferson Clinton (remember, our last actual President?) Library in Little Rock, Arkansas. I'm flying down tomorrow. It'll be the first face-to-face for mary anne and me. Guess I'm actually supposed to "do" a reading of my bit.

So BUY THE BOOK! Hey, I'm not making anything on it so don't expect a free copy from me. If you're too cheap to spring eleven bucks you won't appreciate it anyway.

Today's Question...

How do you throw away a trash can?

Goose Doing Yoga

So I was walking to the store and I passed this Canada Goose doing a one leg Mudra. He(she?) was so good at it I thought "could it possibly only HAVE one leg?"

It turned out to have both. Just looked odd.

That's all. No big deal.

These Guys Just Never Know When to Quit...

"Gonzales Floated Insiders Names To Replace Attorneys Months Before They Were Fired"

"World Bank Board Weighs Response To Wolfowitz's Actions"

"Rove E-Mails Sought By Congress May Be Missing"

When is enough enough?

This Cracked Me Up

Anything Funny About This?

OK, that's Mary on the far left. Then Suzie, Jasmine, Dierdre and on the far right I'd recognize Sophia anywhere.

OK, everybody say "Cheese!"

On to Mostar

Mostar Bridge. Mostar, Bosnia. A beautiful old (reconstructed) bridge that recently became another UNESCO World Heritage site. Mostar was the scene of heavy fighting during the recent unpleasantness. Ethnic and religious tensions still exist. You can see the minarets of the mosque in the foreground and the cross atop the far hill.

Looking for a place to stay the night we turned up a darkened alley. I was struck by the bullet holes on this wall. Clearly automatic fire. The gunman had sprayed the wall from left to right. The pattern rose in a slant as the kick from the weapon pulled the muzzle up.

We stayed at a quaint little hotel practically under the bridge. The owners could not have been more gracious. Breakfast was included, but we were heading out at six AM to catch our bus for the long slog back to Sofia. "No problem," the owner said. "I'll have the kitchen fix you a breakfast to take with you." Can you see that happen at a Holiday Express?

Leaving town we passed this field almost covered in discarded plastic bags. I see garbage like this all over the world. We are practically burying ourselves in crap. If there are still humans around a thousand years from now their archaeologists will be struck by how wasteful we were.

It began raining that night and continued on all the next day. Sort of an apt end to our travels. We still had a daylong (and night) bus and train ride to get back to Bulgaria and Miro (my friend in Sofia)wanted to show off his new condo in Nesebar on the Black Sea coast. that will be the next post. Unless I change my mind.

Imus Uodate

Since publishing my first post about Don Imus the network talking heads are announcing he has been suspended. D'ya suppose his corporate masters have been reading my blog?

Anything is possible.

His hat aside I never believed he was a real cowboy.

The Don Imus Flap

I don't care for Don Imus. I just think he's full of shit. Just like Howard Stern and Rush Limbaugh and Bill Orally (Thanks Keith Olbermann for that!) AND ESPECIALLY Ann Coulter (@#$%!).

In fact I agree with Rev. Al Sharpton on this. Janet Jackson had a "wardrobe malfunction" and she and the network were fined. The whole white TV viewing slack-jawed world went nuts over seeing a little tit. (Wouldn't you know I missed it? Jan saw it though.)

Anyway, in my mind what Imus said is FAR worse than what happened in the Super Bowl. FAR worse! So Imus makes a "heartfelt apology," pimps his ranch for sick kids and is expected to slide? I smell a double standard.

EVERYONE is sorry when they screw up. EVERYONE offers a "heartfelt apology." I'm actually surprised he didn't check himself into rehab.

It just doesn't wash. Can him and fine him.

Meanwhile Back in the Balkans

Our next stop was Dubrovnik, Croatia. What a beautiful city! Due to our mad dash itinerary we only had a couple hours to spend exploring the place. But, we did have time to on one of the best pizzas I've had in years. That aside Dubrovnik seemed the kind of place to come to for a romantic week. Or month. Or so...

The Harbor Outside the Walls

Dubrovnik From the Walls

Of Course There Were The Ubiquitous Narrow Streets
From there we were off to Mostar, Bosnia.

Tough Spring

April seventh and it was 21 degrees Fahrenheit this morning. A couple days ago it was 70. Too bad for these daffodils. They died much too young. Where Oh where is Spring?

By the way, Happy Birthday Ben. I hope you are looking better than these flowers.

Another UNESCO World Heritage Site...

Another Portuguese fortress. This was Qu'lat al Bahrain outside Manama. A bunch of us got a car to take us on another piles of rocks tour. Funny thing, remember a couple years ago when I went out into the Bahraini desert to visit the Tree of Life? Our driver then was the same guy we had this time. What are the odds? Apparently pretty good.

The fort was built around 1502 CE. Interesting to see the juxtaposition of ancient and modern. The site itself is much older, dating back more than a thousand years BCE.