THE POETS AMONG US

ByLee Ann

Hello there!

I hope all is well with you and yours in what by my count is Week 4 of Isolation (in my neighbourhood, at least.)

I want to talk today about the poets among us. Not all poets live on the pages of thin volumes found at the back of library shelves. Some poets are much more evident, although we might not always recognize them as such. I’m talking of course about songwriters!

Regardless of the era or part of the world you hail from, you likely have at least one favourite song, and likely that song means a lot to you because of the lyrics that go with the music. Yes? Think about what song(s) you’d name as perennial favourites and think about the message, or story, or refrain, that embeds itself into your mind and heart every time you hear it. I guarantee the songwriter is in fact, a poet.

I could name many poet/songwriters who continually speak to me through the words they put to music. One of my top picks: Paul Simon. Do you know his song, “Hearts and Bones”? It’s about Carrie Fisher (of Star Wars Princess Leia fame), to whom he was briefly married. The lyrics are a poem about the ending of the relationship, set on a trip that may have actually taken place, or may be a metaphor for their journey together, or may be both. As a musician, he evokes the sound of wheels on pavement in the rhythm of the music. As a poet, he tells this story in words that evoke images to describe the love affair. You can can read the lyrics as you listen:

So what did you think? Did you hear the wheels? That’s a master musician at work. The physical landscape? The lightning, the burning, the twining of hearts and bones? That’s a poet!

I have one more example for you: an early Bob Dylan protest song, performed in a very early music video. “Subteranian Homesick Blues” is very different than the Paul Simon song, with a much stronger emphasis on rhyming words and rhythm, two other things that poets are known for playing with.

Before you listen, I will add one more thing: just for fun, I updated Dylan’s lyrics into something more topical, called “Subdivision With COVID Blues.” Note the two titles have the same number of syllables, which is something else poets find very fun to play with. (Yes, really.)

Try listening to the song once, then maybe play it again while reading my new lyrics, here.

Poets! They’re among us, sometimes where we don’t expect them. You can always recognize a poet by use of rhythm; words and phrases that evoke images in your mind; and sometimes even rhymes.

I’d love to hear about the songwriters who bring poetry to your life!

Lee Ann

GREAT NEWS! IT’S NATIONAL POETRY MONTH!

ByLee Ann

Hello there! And welcome to National Poetry Month!

I know you’re excited about this, especially as we all need something inspiring during this time of physical distancing. To help you celebrate, I’m going to be posting a little more frequently this month, all things poetry! So whether you’re a poetry fan, or someone who wants to be a poetry fan (there are no other categories of people that I know of) I’m here to help!

I want to present to you some different forms of poetry – maybe some you’ve never experienced before. I want to take you behind the finished poem to a poet’s process and show you how this kind of writing is done. I want to introduce you to some poets I follow and whose work I love – hoping you will love them too.

You already know that the kind of poetry I write (and read) is what I would call “accessible.” Maybe it’s all the years I spent writing business reports that had to be clear to all readers, especially because I was always writing about new computer systems and how they were about to affect day-to-day office work at every level of an organization. (Anyone out there remember “Office Automation”? 1980s and ’90s, that’s my vintage.) Like those reports, I want my poetry to be understandable, to evoke an emotion, and ideally, tell a story.

Does this sound like your kind of poetry too? Good – because I’m not going to force-feed you epic elegies, sonnets, or esoteric modern verse that’s impossible to understand.

I want to start with spoken word poetry. Sarah Kay, whom you’ll meet in the link below, defines spoken word as: “poetry that can’t be contained on a page.” In other words, it must be performed. Out loud. There are actually competitions of spoken word poetry, called “poetry slams.” I hope you get to attend one someday!

Meanwhile, to start off National Poetry Month, please treat yourself to four minutes of spoken word poetry. Afterwards, please let me know what you think! And what other spoken word poems this one prompted you to google! Here is Sarah Kay and Phil Kaye with “When Love Arrives.” ** You’ll have to press “skip ads” first**

Lee Ann

WOMEN OF THE SAPPHIRE Part 3

ByLee Ann

I’ve been inspired by my mother’s sapphire ring to reflect about three generations of women in my maternal line. This blue stone has strong symbolism, and there are several characteristics that have been associated with it since medieval times. These include power, strength, kindness, wise judgement, protection, good fortune and spiritual insight. I’ve presented my maternal great-grandmother and grandmother previously in this series; today I’m thinking about my mother and what sapphire qualities she possessed.

Mary-Jane Granger Eckhardt (1929-1998)

Mary-Jane Granger’s engagement portrait, 1953

My mother was one powerful, strong woman. She was never afraid to “tangle” (her word) with anyone, be it the notorious neighbour my sister and I called Motorcycle Lady, or the doctor treating me for chronic pneumonia (she insisted I be tested for cystic fibrosis), or the local tavern that thought a sign saying “Gentlemen Only” could keep her out.

Mary-Jane taught me that I could do anything I put my mind to – and this I believed because, well, my mother said so! In our house there was no concept of limitations for girls, probably because Mary-Jane was the one who fixed the broken toasters, claiming my father didn’t know which end of a hammer to use (something he happily agreed with.) Also, she was better at math than she was at English, or sewing, or gardening. In another era, I know she’d have made a crackerjack software designer.

She responded to people with kindness first and she did this even when others did not:

  • When an Indian family moved into our townhouse development and all the other neighbours stayed away, making whispered remarks about curry odours, Mary-Jane went over to introduce herself and struck up a long-lasting friendship with the beautiful young mother, learning about the lady’s culture and delighting in her wardrobe of exquisite saris. 
  • When my cousin Brian’s third wife, Karen, first came to his mother’s house to meet the family, nobody said very much to her. Karen told me after mom died that she felt awkward and unwelcome until my mother crossed the room to shake hands, saying, “Hi. I’m Aunt Mary-Jane.”

Mary-Jane loved babies and children. One of the best pieces of advice she ever gave me (and she gave me plenty of good advice) was when I had my own children. She said: “just love them.” This I have found to be a fine piece of wise judgement. What if this were every parent’s guiding mantra?

Like the fascinating sapphire stone itself, my three maternal ancestors – Josephine, Mary, and Mary-Jane – were multi-faceted. There was much more to their personalities than the particular sapphire characteristics I’ve described. But I’ve enjoyed viewing them through this “blue lens.”

May I learn from them to exhibit strength, wise judgement and especially kindness.

Something to ponder: Do you have any Sapphire Women in your life?

Mary-Jane (wearing her sapphire ring!) circa 1949

OH CANADA! A Good Read

ByLee Ann

Hello there!

Are you looking for a reprieve from mid-winter? How about some excellent books that come with a strong dose of Canada?

Peace Tower
Ottawa, Ontario

ANNOUNCING the release of my cover story for the Historical Novels Review: “Oh Canada! Understanding a Nation Through its Historical Novels.”

This assignment sent me to a joyful review of some outstanding Canadian historical fiction. I used the opportunity to introduce readers to some of our best Canadian novelists and fascinating stories from our past. I’ve set these novels within a description of key developments in the history of our nation – a kind of Coles Notes version of how Canada came to be, and how our geography defines us.

If you’re a member of the Historical Novel Society, you’ll already have the magazine in your mailbox. For those of you who are not members, click here for the article. I hope you find in it some appealing new books to curl up with this month!

Lee Ann

WOMEN OF THE SAPPHIRE, Part 2

ByLee Ann

In this three-part series, I’m peering down my maternal line, inspired by my mother’s sapphire ring and the qualities that this blue stone has been credited with for centuries. I’m searching the lives of my mother, grandmother and great-grandmother for sapphire qualities: power, strength, kindness and wise judgement, as well as the bringing of protection, good fortune and spiritual insight.

Part One looks at Josephine Robinson McSorley, my great-grandmother. Today I’m reflecting about:

My grandmother: Mary Margaret McSorley Granger (1900-1977)

To me, she was “Mimi,” the grandmother who took care of me, my sister and brother on the rare occasions my parents were away; the one whose house my sister and I went to every summer for a week (a big trip from Niagara Falls to St. Catharines, once on the train!); and the one who let us have “sugar in the bowl”: a wicked sprinkle of brown sugar on the bottom of our cereal bowls, covered with milk when we’d finished our breakfast.

Mary McSorley, circa 1920

I know little about her childhood. She apparently didn’t talk much about it to anyone, except to speak about her father, who, she said, “had the wanderlust.” Surely his absence shaped her character, as did the financial struggles her mother endured while he was away, but I can only speculate about this. What I do know is that Mary McSorley came of age in the decade known as the “roaring twenties,” in a city – Buffalo, New York – that was one of the largest industrial cities in the country, and home to more millionaires per capita than any other in America.

Mary belonged to the era when women won the right to vote and hold office, and when fashion reflected dizzying transformations in social customs for women. Every article of women’s clothing was trimmed down and lightened, waistlines dropped, hemlines rose, and long, lush hairstyles gave way to short, cropped bobs. Despite prohibition laws, little hip flasks were all the rage, and Mary drank whiskey and smoked cigarettes and wore makeup.

Mary McSorley Granger with her niece Constance Granger, circa 1927

Her son Robert, my Uncle Bob, tells this story about Mary, a story that must have come from her or my grandfather:

Mother was the one who actually took a shotgun away from somebody at a party and then went into a bedroom and found an opening and dropped it down in between the wall joists. It’s probably still in there and somebody’s going to knock that house down and wonder how the shotgun got there. That was in Buffalo.

That was some sapphire power and strength!

She married my grandfather Stephen Granger in 1923, skipping town with only their two best friends along as witnesses. Their marriage certificate is full of lies, the biggest one being that this was Stephen’s first marriage. It was not; his first wife was still alive and according to New York State law, it was only sometime after 1925 that he would be allowed to petition the court for permission to re-marry.

Which means my grandparents entered willingly and deceptively into a marriage that was not legal. I believe they simply did not want to wait – and I’ll mention here that they remained childless for six years; this was no “shotgun” wedding. It was, however, a great love match. From all accounts they were very devoted to each other until death did them part in 1960.

The way I look at it, Mary’s ability to love fiercely and defiantly is another facet of her sapphire-style strength.

Speaking of defiance, Mary was employed as a telephone operator at AT&T at the time of her marriage, and back then, women had to quit their jobs when they got married. Does it surprise you to know she withheld the fact of her marriage from her employer?

Mary was known for her cooking and pastry skills, for entertaining, for her sense of humour. My father once said he only ever remembered her smiling. Uncle Bob describes her as loving, funny, quick-tempered… and kind, another sapphire quality. Here’s a story about his mother that stands out in Bob’s mind:

Black Bridge was part of the old Welland Canal, a railway bridge that ran over it. There was no water running in that canal in the forties; it had long been filled in. Kids hung out there, and so did the so-called rubbies or street bums. During the war years and just after, when jobs were not plentiful for people, somehow word got out among the unemployed that if they came to the Granger house on Norwood Street, they could usually get a piece of Mother’s pie or a pork sandwich.

Mary McSorley Granger: powerful, strong, kind. She’s one of my sapphire women!

Something to ponder: What a life your grandmother lived! So much happened before she was Mimi, Nona, Grandmama, Nanny…

WOMEN OF THE SAPPHIRE, Part 1

ByLee Ann

This was my mother’s ring. She bought it at the jewelry store in St. Catharines where she worked before she was married, before money had to be stretched for food and children and was not available for pretty things.
In the ancient and medieval worlds, this celestial blue stone signified power and strength as well as kindness and wise judgement. It was believed to bring protection, good fortune and spiritual insight. Even before I learned the symbolism, I felt this ring represented my mother like none of her other possessions. Sapphire was her birthstone, which is possibly why she bought it, but its unique design speaks to the woman she was. You notice this ring. You couldn’t help but notice my mother.
I started wondering if my grandmother and great-grandmother also may have had sapphire-like attributes, and if these may have cascaded down through three generations of daughters. So in a three-part series of posts, I’ll be peering down my maternal line, looking at the characters and behaviours of three female ancestors, looking for some blue sparkle!

My maternal great-grandmother: Josephine Robinson McSorley (1861-1936)
I have only a few stories about Josephine, yet what I do know of her seems to provide evidence of some sapphire qualities.

Josephine Robinson, circa 1890

She was born in Tonawanda, New York, the forth of seven children. When she was seven, her nine-year-old brother Jacob drowned in the Niagara River. During her youth, her father was frequently unemployed, disabled with inflammatory rheumatism and unable to work by the time Josephine was 19.  She moved to Buffalo then, and worked for a time as a servant.
Josephine married my flamboyant great-grandfather Richard McSorley in Buffalo in 1894, when she was 33 years old. Richard was known for saying to Josephine, “I’m going to check on a job” (he was a housepainter) or, “I’m going out for cigarettes,” and he’d be gone six months. My grandmother’s memories of her childhood were of Josephine taking in laundry and boarders and doing some nursing or midwifery to bring money into the household. And whenever Richard returned, Josephine always told my grandmother and her brother, “he is your father, he is to be treated with respect.”
Josephine and Richard had a new address in Buffalo every year for 16 years after their marriage. I’m guessing that despite both their efforts, money was short… maybe they had to outrun a few landlords? For part of 1919, the family lived in Los Angeles, but by the next year they were back in Buffalo. Later, Josephine visited Los Angeles a couple of times, where Richard had settled in the mid-1920s, apparently working in the movie industry. He died there in 1935.
From about 1925 until she died in 1936, Josephine lived with my grandparents. She seems to have chosen her daughter over her husband. A divorce of sorts? My mother was only five when Josephine died at home at the age of 75. Mom didn’t provide any memories of Josephine, but she did remember Richard’s Stetson hat.

I wish I had more than this patchy information from which to draw sense of my great-grandmother. But even with these few puzzle pieces, I see strength in her character, including an independent spirit, and she certainly gave protection to her children. I’m calling these her “sapphire qualities.”

Something to ponder: Do you think character traits can be inherited?