Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Tuesday, November 28, 2006

And one very

who hasn't been much more than two feet from me since we got home. Just now he's laying on my mouse. . . .

And reaching out his big paws to grab at my arm. And purring, purring, purring. . . .

Home Is the Sailor

Home is the sailor, home from sea:

Her far-borne canvas furled

The ship pours shining on the quay

The plunder of the world.

Home is the hunter from the hill:

Fast in the boundless snare

All flesh lies taken at his will

And every fowl of air.

'Tis evening on the moorland free,

The starlit wave is still:

Home is the sailor from the sea,

The hunter from the hill.

A.E. Housman

Monday, November 27, 2006

There are comets
that flash through
our mouths wearing
the grace
of oceans and galaxies.

God knows,
we try to do the best
we can.

There are comets
connected to chemicals
that telescope
down out tongues
to burn out against
the air.

I know
we do.

~~ Richard Brautigan

Saturday, November 25, 2006

Some days you eat the alligator. . .

This has been a very up/down/up week. The day after the Guthrie, Thankful's sister called with the news that her only brother, Rene, was in ICU in Chicago, and that it did not look good. We took off for Chicago.

I had felt that perhaps being in ICU again was going to be, to say the least, difficult. It was, but not as I might have expected. Rather because it was hard watching Thankful going through what I'd been through, and being unable to really help. Unable to make things different for her.

In the end, I didn't have to: Rene did it himself, and began to improve on his own. By Thanksgiving night, he was doing well enough that we made plans to come back to Minnesota yesterday. And did, stopping in LaCrosse to eat alligator ( I ordered the crawdad etouffee, but both Bob and Thankful shared their alligator with me. . . ).

Wednesday, November 22, 2006

It's like sticking a 14-story building out the window!

That's how structural engineer "Bud" Ericksen describes t cantilever bridge on the new Guthrie Theater. The blue-tinted landmark doesn't open until June 2006, but Todd Melby has already ventured out to the edge of the 178-foot cantilever. Listen to his "Building Minnesota" report.

Originally broadcast: October 20, 2005

Monday, after getting off the plane, Thankful and I went to the Guthrie, to leave a picture for Joe Dowling. Edwin had toured the Guthrie while he was in Minneapolis had been stunned at the theatre, and left a note for Joe telling him how much he'd love to come back. When I knew I'd be in Minneapolis, I found a wonderful picture that Edwin had taken of his mountain meadow where he and Fezziwig had played during his cancer recovery, had enlarged and framed, and took it to Joe. Who wasn't there, so the same lovely and gracious secretary as had given him the tour, gave us one. And took the picture into her caretaking, with the promise it would have an honored home at the Guthrie.

Then we saw the black box theatre, I told her about the shadow and the ghost light, and she showed us where the cantilever was. We bought black box lunches (apple, brownie, chicken salad sandwiches, and Pepsis) and walked out onto the end to eat lunch.

Somehow the day pulled together beautifully.

Sunday, November 19, 2006

Traveling Mercies

Hi, kiddles, and good morning! I'm just finishing up packing, etc. for a trip to Baltimore to catch a plane to go play with Thankful for Thankfulgiving! Won't be back here (WV) till a week or so from Monday. Prolly not much blogging. Don't send for Sheriff Chuck!

Saturday, November 18, 2006

"When it is darkest is when you can best see the stars."--Historian Charles Beard

Friday, November 17, 2006

Thursday, November 16, 2006

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

Monday, November 13, 2006

Joy Farm ~~ e. e. cummings' summer home

And so, I gave him The Collected e. e. cummings for Christmas, last year.

And brought it home from home to What Joy Farm the last day of October.

Will the circle be unbroken?

Saturday, November 11, 2006

As I look at the gold dolphin on my finger,

I admit to weeping. The letter below could break your heart. It broke what's left of mine. Please, please, in my name and in Edwin's name go here, and send it, then let me know you have.


I was outraged to learn that Japan kills more than 20,000 dolphins and porpoises every year in dolphin drive hunts. Dolphins and whales that are targeted in this hunt include bottlenose dolphins, pilot whales and striped dolphins. Several of the species are considered to be threatened with extinction.

The truth is the impact of these hunts on the marine mammal populations is unknown due to the lack of good population size estimates for the various targeted species. Scientists also don't know the extent of the disruption the massacre causes on the complex social structure of the dolphins or the effect on the ecosystem of removing so many large animals out of a small area.

Moreover, the wholesale prices for dolphin meat have plummeted as fears over pollution levels have turned Japanese consumers against tinned dolphin.

I urge you to do the right thing and end this slaughter. Not only will you be protecting the health of Japanese families, you won't contribute to the disruption of our delicate ocean ecosystems. This tradition – proud or not – has run its course.

(And Thank You RedJellyfish)

lost my copy of e e cummings

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Sales Order No.: 51707399

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Estimated Delivery Date: December 6, 2005

Author: cummings, e e
Title: Collected Poems
Bookseller Book No.: 24147
Price: US$ 19.95

Book Description: Very Good/Good-. 8vo - over 7ѕ" - 9ѕ" tall. VG/G- HARD COVER, dj has chips and tears along edges, in protective mylar cover, text is clean and tight, pages slightly yellow with age.

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Friday, November 10, 2006

Edwin Owens
4/4/2005 10:26:16 PM

Thus is no doubt something of a paraphrase both the words and the
"style". I am quoting from memory - lost my copy of e e cummings

if i have made

my lady

intricate imperfect various things

chiefly which wrong your eyes

if i have failed
to snare the glance too shy

if through my singing


the skillful strangeness of
your smile

the keen primeval silence of your hair

songs less firm

than your body's whitest song upon my mind

frailer than most deep dreams are frail

then let the world say

his most wise music

stole nothing from death

you only will create

who are so perfectly alive

my shame

lady through whose profound and fragile lips

the sweet small clumsy feet of april came

into the ragged meadow of my soul


I think i have something out of order up there but I"m not sure what.

I love this poem, it was especially important to me when I was a "mere
slip of a thing" !!!

Love always, XOXOXO Edwin

Edwin Owens
4/4/2005 10:44:39 PM

Edwin, however the original went (and what was on the page feels very cummings to me), that was truly lovely. Thank you so much for sending it to me.

xoxo Julie

p.s. I miss you

Thursday, November 09, 2006

Edwin Owens
3/13/2005 3:50:51 PM
keep encouraged

To be nobody-but-yourself -- in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else -- means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting. ~~ e.e. cummings

Edwin Owens
3/14/2005 1:22:38 AM
Re: keep encouraged

as for expressing

nobody but your self

in words

that means you're going to have to work

just a little bit harder than anyone who isn't a poet can possibly


because nothing is quite so easy as using words like everybody else

we all of us do this most of the time

but whenever we do it we're not poets

if after ten years of fighting and working and writing

you have written one line of one poem

you'll be very lucky indeed

so my advice to all young people who ask if they should be poets

do something easy

like blow up the world

unless your willing to fight and write until you die

does this sound dismal

it's the most wonderful life on earth

or so i feel

e e cummings


Went to town to do some long neglected tasks: pay taxes (so they don't auction off my farm next week), pay car insurance (reinstated upon payment), get another car key (one lost somewhere the last two months), get food (eggs and tuna fish are fine, but after 10 days or so, it gets a little old. . . ), tell some friends, who didn't know (yes, I cried).

Coming home, just before dark, I took the long way, Thorn Creek Road, which winds along the Blackthorn. The river here runs on its slate bottom, and is black itself except for steps, stairs and rapids which produce white. Tonight, for some reason it was especially beautiful. More beautiful than I've ever seen it. The black blacker and shinier; the white of the small rapids brighter and glossier. It was warm and my window was open and it all smelled wonderfully fresh and clean.

Closer to home, and nearly dark. a pair of young deer, still showing faint spots were gamboling in the road, then ran up the hill and raced me for half a mile, just for the sheer joy of it I think.

In all, I am reminded why I picked this place in the beginning. And why the farm was named What Joy.

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

Skål, Sweatheart

I know you would have loved this day! We waited (and worked so hard) so long for it!

Tuesday, November 07, 2006

On this election day, and every other day: Thank you Howard Dean. . .

Thank you, jc. . . .

1/30/2005 9:12:33 PM
good evening !


Thank you so much for the good morning greeting, (such a treat to hear from you first thing in the morning). And, the beautiful "Moth"(?) picture. I encountered a creature like that in Abingdon VA. a few years ago - long story - my God, but they are lovely and fragile.

So, trying to catch up:

1) bad phraseology on my part; I'm not starting my next gig today (that happens Tuesday), I was just excited to be facing the coming week with the prospect of meeting the Gov.; and beginning a new job.

2) Yes, he is totally amazing!
a.) intense BLUE eyes
b.) he has that "look" about him. He is listening and commenting on your every word - yet promising to meet you somewhere in the future.
3.) Smaller of stature than I had thought, but, like Robert F. Kennedy, he's the one I want on my side in a fight.
4.) As with John F. Kennedy, one has the experience that what he says in his speeches is a reflection of his own experience and view of life.

Sort of a joke:

I had a job this morning.

Howard was to give a speech to grassroots supporters (DFNYC) in the auditorium of the SEIU union hall. Before the speech Tracey Denton (head of DFNYC) was trying to arrange for people like me, who have worked in the campaigns but never met the man, to, well, meet the man. Tracey asked me to be "on the door" with another fellow so this reception could be kept small and the Gov. would not be mobbed. She said she wanted me to do it, "Because you're so big and intimidating looking". I wore what I think of as my "Lawyer Suit". As the morning wore on and we were waiting for Howard to arrive I realized that I should probably call this my "Cop Suit". No one would talk to me. And no one tried to get past me. Questions were invariably directed to my partner, and when he told them, "No, this is a private reception." They would generally shoot a glance at me and walk away.

If they only knew what a sentimental slob I am. If it had been left up to me I would have said, YES, COME IN! EVERYONE SHOULD MEET HOWARD DEAN! (LOL)

I did get to "hold, and admit" my Congresswoman, "Yes, Ms. Maloney and how nice to see you here!"

I have yet to figure her out, most folk in my district were very excited when she was first elected, she votes "right" but many were expecting greater leadership. Ah well.

This is now going on too long.

More later.

With Love, XO Edwin

1987-1988: The Diary of Anne Frank

Milwaukee Repertory Theater

Monday, November 06, 2006

Not a good day here, kiddles. Been dealing with accountants, fund managers, etc. I thought I'd done all I had to do. Clearly not so: the universe has much more in store for me.

Me? Just like to dig a hole, and drag it in after me.

Sunday, November 05, 2006

A gift. . . .

Just looked up, and through my skylight:

Thank you ~~

Healing. . .

From the Journal ~~

Saturday, November 4, 2006

I wonder if I'll notice the day when my first thought on waking isn't: Edwin is dead. Or if it will pass, unmarked, and I'll only notice it later? Trooth is, even as I say it, I don't really believe it for a while. Just lay there and turn it over in my brain, until it's real, and another day begins. Without him.

In the beginning, there was no desire to ever go to sleep. As if if I did, I'd fall into a nightmare from which I'd never get out. Now, it seems more a matter of staying awake long enough so that I actually can sleep. Making myself stay awake.

Saturday, November 04, 2006

We shall not cease from exploration. And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.

- T. S. Eliot

Friday, November 03, 2006

At Play in the Fields of the Lord of the Dance

Edwin Owens
2/20/2005 4:16:51 PM
So you were thinkin' I have too much time on my hands, LOL!?

According to the Red Book of Westmarch,
In Middle-earth, Edwin C. Owens was a
Dancing Stone-troll

Elven Name Possibilities for Edwin C. Owens
The root name suitable for feminine and masculine is: Melfirith
Another masculine version is:
More feminine versions are:

Hobbit lad name for Edwin C. Owens
Wilibald Bunce from Girdley Island
Hobbit lass name for Edwin C. Owens
Donnamira Bunce from Girdley Island

Dwarven Name for Edwin C. Owens
Gorin Woodentears
This name is for both genders.

Orkish Name for Edwin C. Owens
Akhtrak the Ugly
This name is for both genders.

Adûnaic name for Edwin C. Owens

According to the Red Book of Westmarch,
In Middle-earth, Julia Larsen was a
Laughing Umbarian

Elven Name Possibilities for Julia LarsenThe root name suitable for feminine and masculine is:
Another masculine version is:
More feminine versions are:

Hobbit lad name for Julia Larsen
Largo Tussock from Willowbottom
Hobbit lass name for Julia Larsen
Rose Tussock from Willowbottom

Dwarven Name for Julia Larsen
Óin Thunderhand
This name is for both genders.

Orkish Name for Julia Larsen
Krumghash the Blood-Axe
This name is for both genders.

Adûnaic name for Julia Larsen

Love, Rose Tussock xoxox
(How can life be anything but good when you're loved by Rose Tussock?)

Edwin Owens
2/21/2005 2:56:04 AM

When Melfirith met Rose Tussock he became Gorin Woodentears , and they
built a house out of tears of joy.

Spring blizzard in NYC, and playing with the names you sent.

So really good to speak with you when I arrived at the theatre this
afternoon. It would be impossible for me to express how much I loved
hearing from you at that time.

All Love Edwin XOXOXO

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

Mostly cloudy. A chance of rain this evening and overnight. A mix of rain and snow likely late. Little or no snow accumulation. Lows in the mid 30s. Southwest winds 5 to 10 mph. Chance of precipitation 60 percent.
A slight chance of rain and snow in the morning...then mostly sunny. Highs in the upper 40s. Northwest winds 10 mph. Chance of precipitation 20 percent.

Although he never saw this until last January, he was so pleased. It was *exactly* what he was trying to do.

'Cat' still purrs, although actors stray a bit in characterizations

By Ed Blank
Tuesday, December 9, 2003

EDITOR'S NOTE: This play was seen as part of the Tribune-Review's fall Broadway theater trip

NEW YORK -- "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof," the late Tennessee Williams' favorite of his many plays, returns to Broadway a muted beauty.

The play is the lair of Big Daddy Pollitt, a character inspired partly by the playwright's father and the one he felt he drew to a finer point than in a Williams work.

Generally regarded now as the second- or third-greatest work in Williams' canon, behind "A Streetcar Named Desire" and possibly "The Glass Menagerie," "Cat" plunges for nearly three riveting hours into themes Williams revisited frequently from different vantages: birth, death and the transience of life; longing and repression; lust and denial; riches and rapaciousness, and the enduring irony of unrequited love.

Much of the new revival's reputation has to do with its fidelity to the playwright's vision. Williams had modified the text of the original 1955 production, mainly the third act, to satisfy director Elia Kazan's feeling that it needed a more positive and hopeful coloration.

The bowdlerized, if impeccably rendered, 1958 film version was more hopeful still, including the suggestive tossing of a pillow in the final shot.

A 1974 Broadway revival restored most of the original pre-Kazan text, retaining only the changes Williams had decided were improvements. The current revival is only a shade off the 1974 text, with a tweak that makes the final exchange more ambiguous.

Anthony Page's production is being performed at Broadway's Music Box Theatre with mixed blessings but sufficient luster to override its shortcomings.

The play is set on a plantation in the Mississippi Delta in the mid-1950s on Big Daddy's 65th birthday.

After five years of battling cancer and clarifying his life perspectives, Big Daddy lives momentarily with the mistaken belief that he's been troubled by nothing more than a spastic colon from which he will soon recover.

The rest of his family knows better, or soon will.

Older, disfavored son Gooper (Michael Mastro) and nakedly avaricious wife Mae (Amy Hohn), more often called Sister Woman, are expecting their sixth child. No one shares their anticipation of another "no-necked monster" like their first five.

The favorite son of Big Daddy and Big Mama is Brick (Jason Patric), a former golden boy football star hobbling on a broken ankle with a crutch that is the play's symbolic centerpiece.

Something is amiss in the marriage of Brick and Margaret (Ashley Judd), or Maggie the Cat. She's nicknamed for the feline shrewishness with which she fences with Mae and Gooper as they try to appropriate Big Daddy's fortune prematurely.

Brick and Maggie haven't shared a bed since before the suicide of his best friend Skipper, a comparably macho and damaged soul whose attraction to Brick she fatally exposed.

Brick has walled himself off physically and emotionally from everyone. The carnally frustrated Maggie tries to melt his reserve while his bulldog of a father plays the suit he shares with Brick, a contempt for "the powerful and obnoxious odor of mendacity" and anything that smacks of hypocrisy.

It is ironically Big Daddy's ignorance of his own condition that allows him to restore the order to his life that he had surrendered to others while distracted by health worries.

Judd is a valiant Maggie but only an intermittently persuasive one. Grappling with elocution in a way that calls attention to itself, hers is an agitated Maggie, sniping but disclosing nothing languorous in her yearning for marital satisfaction.

In the part of his rewrite that pleased him, Williams made Maggie more sympathetic. Judd's Maggie seems annoyed, mostly, that her miscalculated interference in the Brick-Skipper relationship has backfired and that it derailed a game plan rather than just a marital relationship.

Patric's Brick is unusually detached, adrift in alcohol, as if he truly were beyond reach and not necessarily worth restoring. He is, though, the embodiment of a rock to whom others naturally gravitate.

I had looked forward especially to seeing Ned Beatty's interpretation of the vulnerable vulgarian Big Daddy, but he missed the performance attended. Taking over with considerable authority was Edwin C. Owens, who normally plays Doctor Baugh.

The imposing Owens, with girth to match his temperament, has lots of bark and plenty of bite, growling with a ferocity that can shake scenery and hoist the whole production to a new level.

In demeanor he's most suggestive of Burl Ives, who did the part in '55 and in the movie, and Pat Hingle, curiously enough the original '55 Gooper. Owens' key revelation of Big Daddy is of a perishable life force.

Nary a laugh from the text is overlooked, especially those generated by Hohn's hyper-ambitious Mae and Mastro's Gooper, who is so helplessly doomed to live in the shadow of a younger, bronzed deity of a brother despite Brick's anger and indifference.

Margo Martindale's portrayal of Ida, better known as Big Mama, is a special asset, an uncommonly sympathetic matriarch given to nervous silliness around her obstreperous husband.

She jangles from an overloaded charm bracelet she hauls on her wrist uneasily, as if it were a cow bell announcing her movements. It suggests noisily, as the item does in life, the sentiments of its wearer.

"Cat" remains one of the theater's sustained dramatic pleasures, encouraging us to sift, like Big Daddy, through lies and evasions, even if at a price. There isn't a character among the six principals who doesn't singe his claws on that hot tin roof.


No other word for it. And I wasn't expecting it. NYC was still square in the middle of Autumn. West Viginia is not. Early winter.