Tuesday, November 25, 2014

It's Thanksgiving--and the Room is Filled with Faces

On this Thanksgiving Day
the room is filled with faces.
Much like that scene in the book where
   there are just too many to number.
And yet I remember. Some at least.
Most have slipped away somewhere—
 But the delight they brought—those unremembered
  and remembered ones—
  the doors they opened—the fun we had—
  all those shining times when the sun really did stand still.
These remain embedded deep in my heart.
That’s why I need a Thanksgiving.
To open the door and see here and there
   those that have cheered me on—and others too.

On this Thanksgiving Day
the room is filled with faces.
The old book says we are all surrounded by a sea of witnesses...
  and this is true.
The woman who birthed me and named me
  and held me close to her breast her whole life long.
The church with its tall white columns and stained glass windows
and its picture of Jesus—
But more—all those who made faith so possible that after 79 years
  I am amazed to discover that old ragged “I will be with you” is true after all.
The schools...the books...the fun...
But more: classmates and authors and teachers
   who did more than they could possibly know.
And all those friends who walked into my life
  wherever I’ve gone.
They accepted, and affirmed and did not judge—
  they let me be--most days.

On this Thanksgiving Day
The room is filled with faces.
Dating her under a harvest moon...courtship...wedding day...
  seeing her walk down that aisle.
And children—my two red-heads
  and my two grand girls.
And so many more too.
The old book is right.
On this Thanksgiving Day 
The room is filled with faces.

--RogerLovette/ rogerlovette.blogspot.com


  1. Thanks today, in no particular order . . .

    1. For daily small surprises, such as the wannabe snow flurry today that looked at first like tiny pebbles, giving way to standard flurry-flakes. Had never seen such petit hail (I’ll call it), and dogs were puzzled, too . . .

    2. To the people who helped me get to and thrive in foreign countries—
    CHINA for Kennesaw in 1991, my first trip across an ocean, at age 50 = Tom Keene, Dean George Beggs, President Betty Siegel, and—in Nanjing—Xiao Xu, one of my assistants; Xiao Ping, my translator at the Nanjing Conference on Twentieth-Century Literature; Lu Ning, my liaison with University President Tan; and especially Ye Kang Ning, Professor Hao Zhenyi and his noble wife Lao Fan. OLDENBERG, GERMANY, with Dean Richard Miller, Chad Davidson, Greg Fraser, and “Bob,” our guide. And LONDON, with the ever-gracious and astonishing Zohreh Sullivan.

    3. Both to and for Bruce Lyon at West Georgia, a beacon of integrity.

    4. To Clyde Grubbs and Ted Blankenship for reminding me of Johnny Mathis’s “One God.”

    5. To those Christian clergy whose personal contact reminded me, and embodied for me, the humane aspects of the Incarnation: Luke Smith, Karen Kagiyama, Scott May, Camille Hegg, Ben Harrison, Tom Hall, and of course Roger Lovette (and Gayle, without whom . . . well . . . you who know, know . . .).

    6. For Doris Calhoun, who left us this month at age 85, and whose sweet, intelligent, supportive life with Richard J. reminds me of how many good, strong women I have depended on for any meaningful accomplishments I may have mustered: Shirley Dean, Lori Buechner, Madeline Miles, Jeannie Gaddis, Barbara Georgion, Linda Barlage, Virginia Turner, Amy Whitney, Maren Henry, Noelle C. Davis, Lesia Schnur, Laura Dabundo, Kimily Willingham, Kelly Beard, Ann Beattie, and—AND—Jane and Betsy!

    7. To those poets and poetry lovers who helped me toward whatever I may call my own poetry today: Ed Krickel, Buddy Godsey, Grace Freeman, Jim Dickey, Don Russ, David Bottoms, the amazing team of Greg Fraser Chad Davidson (who helped me to believe yet again, after long doubting), Eric Smith, Mary Moore, Art Stringer, and—AND—Jane!

    8. Then there are the lights of which I am so proud, who shall surge and drift forward into the distance beyond anything I could do myself: Mike, Carla, Luke, Betsy, Jay, Carrie, Aubrey, and Charlie. (Byron Bunch Hill, Lena Grove Hill, and Peter Spangle Hill know every day what they mean to me, all without words.)

    Thanks, all. And this day is almost done. So, with love, ’bye.

    1. Ok if I was to call names you would be way up there. Even in a hard, hard time we managed to laugh and enjoy an incredible friendship. Keep the poems coming and love to Jane.

  2. Even in a hard,hard time we managed to laugh and enjoy an incredible friendship. live soccer