Friday, March 1, 2024

HOW DOES POETRY DIFFER FROM PROSE?



Dear George, 
I’ve been taking poetry classes through UC’s OLLI program for the last 5 or 6 years. I don’t know if I’m getting any better, but I am enjoying myself. Katja is a Ph.D. candidate in French literature, and, from the beginning, she’s been telling me that my poems don’t sound very poetic. I’ve come to agree. My background is in scientific writing, the very opposite of poetic writing. My OLLI teacher agrees, saying that I write “prosy poems,” though he sees no problem in that. Every class I’ve been in winds up, at some point, discussing the differences between poetry and prose. I’ve asked Google about it, and here are some of the things experts say. 

Both “prose” and “poetry,” of course, refer to written literature. Prose is what we encounter most often in everyday life. Novels, short stories, nonfiction works, essays, newspaper and magazine articles, scientific papers, emails, blogs, and so forth ad infinitum. Various commentators say that prose is “regular” writing, while poetry is a more specialized form. I’m going to hazard a guess that prose constitutes about 99.9% of the written products out there in the world, leaving poetry with about 0.1% or less. To my knowledge, prose writers never worry about how prose differs from poetry. Only poets interested in the question, perhaps because their creations are specialand unique. 

Many authors compare and contrast poetry and prose. Here I am going to describe eight distinctions that are commonly made: structure; length; capitalization; punctuation; rhyme and meter; language; understandability; and purpose.

(1) STRUCTURE. The clearest and most obvious difference between prose and poetry is how they look on the page. Prose is written in sentences that are arranged in paragraphs. A line of text begins at the left and ends at the right margin of the page, with prose text appearing as large blocks of writing. Poems, in contrast, use shorter lines that are broken before the right page margin, and the lines are organized into stanzas. Thus, the shape of a poem varies, depending on the line and stanza breaks chosen by the author.    

(2) LENGTH. Poems are relatively short, like a painting in words, while prose is usually longer (think of an article or work of fiction). 

(3) CAPITALIZATION. In prose, the first word of every sentence is capitalized. Traditionally, poets capitalize the first letter of every line whether or not it corresponds to a sentence beginning. However, many modern poets do not follow this rule. 

(4) PUNCTUATION. Prose writers follow standard grammatical rules of punctuation (e.g., periods at the end of the sentence; commas to connect independent clauses ). Poets sometimes use standard grammatical rules, but they may also break rules for creative effect or not use standard punctuation at all (relying on line breaks instead of periods, commas, etc.). 

(5) RHYME AND METER. Historians suggest that poetry existed long before written language, and used rhythm and rhyme to help people to memorize information and hence pass down knowledge. Some argue that rhyme and meter are the most importance differences between poetry and prose. However, both rhyme and meter have been on the wane in poetry for many decades, and contemporary poets show a near-universal preference for free verse. 

(6) LANGUAGE. Prose typically relies on straightforward and literal language (e.g., the current essay), while poets often use figurative language (e.g., metaphor, similes, symbols) to create images or expressive ideas. Edgar Allan Poe wrote, “Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.” 

(7) UNDERSTANDABILITY. Prose typically aims for a relatively clear message and usually requires only a single reading. Poems often leave a lot unsaid, rely on the imagination of the reader for interpretation, and may require more than one reading. My own opinion is that a lot of contemporary poets seem to worship ambiguity or obscurity and are needlessly frustrating to the everyday reader as a consequence. 

(8) PURPOSE. A quick summary is that prose aims to convey information, tell a story, or explain a concept in a clear way, while poetry focuses on expressing emotions and ideas in an aesthetically pleasing and evocative way. 

PROSE POEMS. It’s a mistake to regard “prose” and “poetry” as mutually exclusive, binary categories. There’s a lot of overlap and a lot of variety in each category. Prose can be highly expressive and employ metaphors and symbols. Poetry can be literal and descriptive, telling a story. The prose poem is a good illustration of the fusion of the two, since it employs the structural form of prose with the expressive language of poetry. Here is an excerpt from the prose poem, “Bath”, by Amy Lowell:  
      
“Little spots of sunshine lie on the surface of the water and dance, dance, and their reflections wobble deliciously over the ceiling; a stir of my finger sets them whirring, reeling.  I move a foot and the planes of light in the water jar.  I lie back and laugh, and let the green-white water, the sun-flawed beryl water, flow over me.” 

It’s also possible to turn this around and consider poems which employ a standard poetry form but also use literal, descriptive language rather than flowery, “poetic” language. William Carlos Williams’ poem, “This Is Just to Say,” might be an example: 

I have eaten 
the plums 
that were in 
the icebox

and which 
you were probably 
saving 
for breakfast 

Forgive me 
they were delicious 
so sweet 
and so cold 

All of this points to a rather murky conclusion. It’s certainly possible to make generalizations about differences between poetry and prose, but both of these categories are so diverse that there are many exceptions to any assertion. Former U.S. Poet Laureate Howard Nemerov sums it up best when he says that distinguishing poetry from prose “is rather like distinguishing rain from snow — everyone is reasonably capable of doing so, and yet there are some weathers that are either-neither.” 
Love, 
Dave 

SOURCES: brittanica.com, “Poetry(literature). ; immerse.education, “What Is The Difference Between Prose and Poetry?”; keydifferences.com. “Difference Between Prose and Poetry”; poets.org, “Poetry”; readwritethink.org, “Poetry and Prose: What’s the Difference?”; theadvocate.org. “The Difference Between Prose And Poetry”; tiatalk.me, “What is poetry?”; twinkl.com,“What is poetry?”; writers.com; “Prose Vs. Poetry: Their Differences And Overlap.”

Thursday, February 15, 2024

VALENTINE'S DAY MUMBLINGS


Dear George,
Another Valentine’s Day has come and gone. I did spend some time looking up the holiday’s history. According to legend, Valentine, the Bishop of Interamna in central Italy, was imprisoned in 273 A.D. by the emperor Claudius who was persecuting Christians. In violation of Roman law, Valentine had been aiding Christians to escape from prison, and he’d also been marrying Christian couples so that the new husband would not have to go to war in Claudius’ army. Claudius demanded that Valentine renounce his beliefs or be executed. Valentine’s faith was unwavering. In the days before his execution, Valentine, through his prayers, restored the sight of his jailer’s blind daughter, Julia. Asterius, the jailor, was so amazed and grateful that he converted to Christianity on the spot. Valentine had fallen in love with Julia who had been visiting him in the jail. On the day of his execution, February 14th, Valentine left Julia a note that was signed, “From your Valentine”. This, of course, is the origin story of the first Valentine card. St. Valentine’s skull is on display today in the Basilica of Santa Maria in Rome. He is known as the patron saint of lovers, beekeeping, epilepsy, and the plague. 

Historians speculate that the Valentine’s Day holiday had its origins in the Roman festival of Lupercalia which was held in mid-February. The festival celebrated the coming of spring and included fertility rites and a lottery which paired up single women and men. In the fifth century the pope banned Lupercalia celebrations and declared February 14th “St. Valentine’s Day.” In 1382 Geoffrey Chaucer wrote the first Valentine poem about birds selecting their mate on February 14th. Commercially printed Valentine cards were manufactured by the late 1700’s, and they became available in the U.S. by the mid-1800s. These days about a billion Valentine cards are exchanged worldwide per year. Teachers are the most frequent recipients, outdoing wives, mothers, and sweethearts. Nearly 30% of all flower sales in the U.S. are done around February 14th. Americans spend an average of $193 on Valentine’s gifts (though not true in my house). Of most importance, 25% of pet owners in the U.S. give Valentine’s Day gifts to their pets. 


We Menominee children celebrated Valentine’s Day in my grade school each year by exchanging cards in the classroom. This was an activity fraught with peril. There was a lot of trepidation about boys sending Valentine cards to other boys, though it was deemed o.k. if the card downplayed sentiment and featured cowboys, Indians, prizefighters, or other hyper-masculine characters. Boys sending Valentines to girls was almost as difficult, and senders of mushy cards to girls were unmercifully taunted by their peers. The other issue was how many cards one should send. A few children chose to send cards to everybody else in the class. However, this was generally frowned upon since it defeated the main purpose of exchanging cards — i.e., determining who were the most popular and least popular children by the number of cards received. Five or six cards per sender were regarded as a good number. In my classes there was usually one person who received cards from everyone and one or two who received almost none. I can’t remember exactly where I ranked among my classmates, but I wasn’t near the top and I wasn’t at the very bottom. Last week in my OLLI art class I made two handcrafted Valentine’s to give to Katja, but I’ve lost the knapsack in which I brought them home. That’s how it goes. 

Love,  Dave


Thursday, December 28, 2023

2023: OUR NEW YEAR'S NEWSLETTER


 
Dear George, 
It’s time once again to wrap up another year. I’d say 2023 has to be an outstanding year because, to our happy surprise, we’re still hanging in there. We got an e-mail from the Cincinnati Art Museum which listed the year’s highlights month by month. The seemed a good way to organize stuff so I did the same for Katja and myself. Here is our 2023 story. 
Love, 
Dave 

JANUARY. Katja came down with Covid but recovered in time to begin our winter quarter OLLI courses. Katja did literature and history; David, poetry writing. We bought a giant TV for the den and watched the Bengals lose to the Chiefs in the AFC Championship game. 

FEBRUARY. We enjoyed Greek and Roman Mythology at OLLI and “Beyond Bollywood” at the Art Museum. At my annual wellness exam the doctor said I am “85 young,” and he actually agreed to give me an Rx for 24 Lorazepam to help sleep. 

MARCH. We celebrated the arrival of spring with fish dinners at Bonefish Grill, the Oakley Fish Market, and Red Lobster. We got the very sad news that our daughter-in-law K’s mom Linda died. 

APRIL. I was the only student at my Zumba class for the third week in a row and decided it was time to discontinue. Katja loved King Charles’ coronation on TV, and we enjoyed Rachmaninoff and Shoshtakovich at the Symphony. The cardiologist said I was doing fine and added, “Don’t screw it up.”
    
MAY. I did terribly on my first hearing test in several years but got some new hearing aids which did help a lot. J sent flowers for Mother’s day and urged me to get a Covid test (which turned out positive, much to my surprise). Because of Covid, we cancelled our flight to New Orleans to attend our grandkids’ graduation. 

JUNE. The visiting nurse tested me for dementia and I remembered all three words perfectly (chair, banana, sunrise). We watched a lot of French Open tennis, including finals victories by Swiatek and Djokovic. We went to East Lansing for Linda’s memorial service and hung out with our sweet family. Having experienced severe jaw pain, Katja had oral surgery to extract an under-the-gum wisdom tooth. 

JULY. Lots of Wimbledon this month. My dentist moved her office from next door to our house to a half mile away, good for walking and exercise. I started exploring Bard, Google’s artificial intelligence chatbox, asking Bard to write poems about this and that (only so-so as a poet). We celebrated my 86th birthday at the Chart House, enjoying the Cincinnati skyline view across the Ohio River. Our son J cancelled his planned trip to Cincinnati because of family sickness. 

AUGUST. On her way from Richmond to Albequerque, our friend Jennifer stopped by for a get-together. The retinal specialist said my left eye was doing o.k., didn’t need surgery. Katja and I celebrated our 63rd anniversary (amazing) at La Bar A Boeuf. 

SEPTEMBER. We were happy that our favorites, Gauff and Djokovic, won their U.S. Open Finals. Pianist Sara Daneshpour was wonderful at Matinee Musicale. We saw an excellent women’s photography show at the Taft Museum. Quarterback Joe Burrow, who missed the preseason with an injury, was rocky in his first few games with the Bengals. 

OCTOBER. The plasterer fixed our living room wall. J came for a visit, and we ate at Skyline Chili twice, did multiple thrift shops, and saw art shows at the Art Museum, the Miller Gallery, and Hebrew Union’s Skirball Museum. Katja had a second oral surgery (the first one was botched), and, because of a paperwork screw-up, our insurance wouldn’t cover anything and we wound up paying a huge amount out of pocket. 

NOVEMBER. Big election victories for the Democrats. After months of terrible pain, the insurance company finally approved Katja’s epidural, and she is a new woman. Joe Burrow injured his wrist and is out for the season. J, K, A, and L flew up from New Orleans for a Thanksgiving visit, and we had a great time. I discovered jazz singer Andrea Motis on YouTube. 

DECEMBER. We celebrated Katja’s birthday at La Bar a Boeuf. J sent beautiful flowers. The furnace guy found that the raccoons had done a lot of damage to our ducts. Backup quarterback Jake Browning led the Bengals to three victories in a row before a Steelers collapse. Ami and Bruce sent Zabar’s delicacies, and David and Susan sent See’s Candy for Christmas. We enjoyed the Charles White exhibition at the Art Museum and made New Year’s dinner reservations at La Bar a Boeuf to celebrate a very good year.

Monday, December 18, 2023

LOST MENOMINEE


               



Dear George, 
According to Thomas Wolfe, “You can’t go home again” — truly a paradox since we tend to regard home as the safe place we can always return to. Wolfe reminds us that change is an ever-present feature of reality. In effect, the world we return to is never the same as it used to be and we ourselves have inevitably changed as well. Still, “going home” remains emotionally powerful because it involves reconnection with one’s past, if only through one’s memories. 

I left my home town for college when I turned 18. While I wasn’t to be a full-time resident again, I’ve visited regularly over the years. In certain ways Menominee is exactly the same as it was in the 1950’s. The magnificent natural environment is unchanged, with the town’s southern border stretching along the Menominee River and its eastern border along the Green Bay shoreline. The three auto bridges to Wisconsin are in place. The layout of streets is identical, and virtually all of the buildings are the same. And many of the important landmarks remain, e.g., the courthouse, the library, the marina, the Presbyterian Church. I made a list of 70 important places in my youth. About a third of them are still there. Ten have relocated to other parts of town or to Marinette across the river, e.g., the hospital, the newspaper, my high school. But over half of the significant places of my youth are gone. Thinking about these losses, I decided to poetically commemorate some of Menominee’s places that no longer exist. Here are some of them. 
Love, 
Dave

THE OFFICE SUPPLY STORE 
Age four, Mom took me to the store 
A pencil, an eraser, sometimes more 
Ogden Ave, a long walk 
I don’t think we’d talk 
Talk or not, this trip made my heart soar 

BOSWELL GRADE SCHOOL 
Boswell kindergarten, my very first job 
A nervous twit, I was scared of the mob 
I walked there with Sally 
My five-year old pally 
Temp zero, we peanuts would sob 

WASHINGTON GRADE SCHOOL 
First grade, begin Washington, downtown 
Thrilling times there on the playground 
Playing boys chase the girls 
All racing in whirls 
When the bell rang, Teach said to calm down 

THE LLOYD THEATER 
The Lloyd, my very first movie at night 
“Meet Me in St. Louis” — such delight 
Margaret O’Brien, so swell 
Judy Garland, a sweet belle 
I now was a big kid all right 

THE A&P GROCERY 
The A&P carried yummy things to eat 
Creamy pastries, avocados, fatty hamburger meat 
We were often low on cash 
So my mom would make hash 
But some days she’d buy me a treat 

G.I. SURPLUS 
G.I. Surplus was my favorite store 
Selling gas masks, machetes, and more 
I’d buy camping gear there 
Khaki mittens to wear 
And the gadgets we used to play war 

THE IDEAL DAIRY 
The Ideal on the west edge of town 
Open daily from dawn to sundown 
Two dips for a nickel 
Cheaper than a pickle 
Their lemon flake cones, we’d melt down 

THE MENOMINEE HOTEL 
The hotel was right on the Bay 
Known by travelers as a fine place to stay 
Our glee club sang there 
For the Lions Club’s fare 
I can still hum those tunes to this day 

ST. JOHN’S CATHOLIC CHURCH 
The O’s would take me to Sunday mass 
A ritual, for sure, of high class 
Our family weren’t Catholics 
At best Lutheran mavericks 
But I hoped for a heavenly pass 

THE FIVE AND DIME STORE 
The Five and Dime if you wanted a deal 
My Christmas gifts, they were a steal 
Red ribbons for my mother 
A cap gun for my brother 
And the Topps baseball cards were surreal 

THE SMELT RUN 
The smelt run arrived every spring 
Huge nets our fishermen would bring 
We would wade in the river 
Though the cold made us shiver 
Then we voted for the queen and the king 

THE MENOMINEE THEATER 
The Menominee was near to the Bay 
Saturdays, the kids’ matinee 
They charged just one dime 
For a rowdy fun time 
Charlie Chan was the best, I would say 

THE D.A.R. BOYS CLUB 
I’d go to the DAR after school 
Pick and I played a few games of pool 
Then basketball with Jack 
Who could dribble behind his back 
For aspiring pros it was cool 

ST. JOSEPH-LLOYD HOSPITAL 
We started life at St. Joseph-Lloyd Hospital 
And returned once or twice when still little 
Steven busted his arm 
Which we viewed with alarm 
But they sculpted his cast, made him fittle 

UNCLE KENT’S REXALL DRUGSTORE 
Uncle Kent’s store was right on the Square 
School days, my brother and I would lunch there 
Read the new comic books 
Batman battling the crooks 
The tuna fish sandwiches, just fair 

COONEY’S GAS STATION 
Harry Cooney’s was also on the Square 
We filled up the Lincoln right there 
But they forgot to check the oil 
Caused the engine to boil 
Cost my dad a major repair 

CITY BUS 
The city bus circled the Loop 
Friday nights for Rick and his group 
They’d flirt with the gals 
Fool around with their pals 
Tell the driver the latest teen scoop 
 
PRODUCERS DAIRY 
Producers Dairy on Sheridan Road 
Three blocks from our family abode 
I’d stop by from school 
Chocolate chip made me drool 
But butterscotch, I would explode 

M&M BREWERY 
The Brewery made Silver Cream beer 
A golden brew that fostered much cheer 
I knew guys who drank Silver Cream 
Mostly dudes on the football team 
But myself and my group had beer fear 

THE VOGUE 
The Vogue was my mother’s favorite store 
For dresses and hats and much more 
Not as fancy as Green Bay 
But it didn’t take all day 
Plus she always found something she wore 

THE GATEWAY CAFE 
The Gateway. our teenage hangout 
Near the hospital, right on our route 
A grilled cheese and French fries 
Chocolate malts for the guys 
Football nights, we would give out a shout 

GARBELL’S SODA SHOP 
Garbell’s, across from M.H.S. 
A retreat from academic stress 
Pinball in the rear 
We would gather round and cheer 
Earl Powell, pinball king, such finesse 

FOUND MENOMINEE 
True, my world’s no longer there 
But change is a curious affair 
New restaurants, new shops 
Many interesting stops 
Menominee still has its flair

Friday, December 8, 2023

BUREAUCRATIC NIGHTMARE DEPARTMENT


Dear George, 
All this medical stuff puts us at the mercy of huge impersonal bureaucracies, and it’s starting to drive me crazy. A few months ago Katja was diagnosed with a cracked wisdom tooth under her gum that needed to be extracted. While this sounded unpleasant, we were pleased that the operation would be performed by the head of the oral surgery department. He apparently was on vacation though, and the surgery was actually done by a resident. A month or two later Katja started having severe pain in the location of the surgery. An X-ray revealed a bunch of small bone fragments scattered around the now-healed area of her gum. The new doctor said he’d never seen anything like it, seeming to imply that the original operation had been badly botched. In any case, Katja needed to have another operation, more intrusive and difficult than the first. The hospital double-checked with our insurance company to make sure that the operation would be covered by insurance, and, after receiving an affirmative response, Katja underwent a second procedure. Six weeks later we got an e-mailed bill from the hospital for $13,000. Katja called the hospital, and they advised us to call our insurance company since the latter hadn’t paid the bill. When Katja called, the insurance person said they hadn’t paid the bill because the hospital had used the wrong code in sending the bill, classifying the operation as medical rather than dental. They told Katja to contact the hospital and ask them to change the code from medical to dental and resubmit the bill. Then they would pay it. Katja called, but the hospital said they were not able to change the code from medical to dental because that would involve breaking the law. (What law remains obscure.) The insurance company then said that nothing could be done and that we would need to pay the bill out of pocket. The situation, of course, seemed totally ridiculous. Katja called the hospital back, and, after some haggling, they agreed to reduce the bill if we would pay the full sum immediately. It was still many thousands of dollars, but there seemed to be no other choice. I brought up the idea of hiring a lawyer, but Katja gritted her teeth and gave the hospital our credit card number. The most positive thing I can say is that I’ve stopped losing sleep (though I have been having bad dreams). 
Love, 
Dave

Wednesday, November 29, 2023

THANKSGIVING HIJINX


 
Dear George, 
We usually get together with our sweet NOLA family at Thanksgiving, often in New Orleans but sometimes in Cincinnati. This year it was our turn to be hosts, and parents J and K and kids A and L flew up on Monday evening, arriving here at half past midnight. Such excitement. The kids have grown up more each time that we see them. The family also brought their dog, Little Paws, who had lived with us in Cincinnati for three months at the beginning of the pandemic. I like to think that Little Paws was excited to see his former stepparents, but, realistically, he’s always excited to see anyone. 

I was a little nervous about entertaining, concerned about finding fun things to do for 15-year-olds A and L. I made a list of a dozen attractions, the highlight of which was the Toulouse-Lautrec exhibition at the Dayton Art Institute. Much to my surprise we didn’t wind up doing any of the things on my list. I needn’t have worried. The kids took care of themselves, sometimes with J and K’s initiative, and found ample amusement. 

We all slept in on the first morning. Then we headed out to Skyline Chili — our family’s indispensablel dining place — and followed it up with ice cream at Graeter’s. J took the kids to see “Priscilla” at the Esquire. Then he and I took A and L to the thrift store. While the moms are less interested in thrift store outings, it’s the favorite activity of dads and kids. I suggested the Bulk Outlet store since they’d never been there, and it was a big hit. This is Saint Vincent de Paul’s end-of-the line discount store. All of the merchandise is dumped into huge 800-gallon storage bins, about 40 of them filled with used clothing and another 20 or so with books, toys, electronics, kitchen ware, and miscellany. Clothing costs $1.49 a pound, books $0.49. My impression is that the Bulk Outlet draws more customers than any of the mall stores in Cincinnati, and the treasure-hunters sort through the clothing bins frantically, filled up their grocery baskets. A and L didn’t fill a full grocery basket, but they did very well, including A’s buying a boutique knapsack that retails for over a hundred dollars. 

We worked in several movies during the four-day stay and a couple on TV as well. On Wednesday J and I took the kids to Saltburn, a British class warfare movie which had gotten 69% on Rotten Tomatoes. Probably the adults should have investigated more thoroughly. Along with its highbrow character studies, Saltburn offered several explicit intercourse scenes (both gay and straight), explicit masturbation scenes, and plenty of male frontal nudity. The children didn’t say much. J held his hands over his eyes and later said he was a terrible father. I didn’t feel like an exemplary grandparent either. (I can’t imagine my own grandfather taking me to see Saltburn.) 

Katja put together a marvelous Thanksgiving dinner which was the highlight of the visit: roast turkey, dressing, cranberry sauce, Scottish mashed potatoes, whipped sweet potatoes with maple syrup, creamed spinach. green bean casserole, apple and pumpkin pies, and red wine from Spain. After dinner we played a word game called Codenames that our family had brought along with them. We divided into two teams, each having a spymaster who knows the secret identities of 25 agents. The spymaster gives one-word clues that can point to multiple words on the table that their teammates try to guess. Everybody was competitive and excited, and it was an occasion where all the generations were fully engaged together. A and L were the most astute spymasters; myself and Katja, the most bumbling. 

L was eager to go shopping on Black Friday, the day after Thanksgiving, and so K, J, and Katja took them to Kenwood Towne Center. The kids picked the stores they were interested in. A constructed a large stuffed green frog at the Build-A-Bear store which they named Leonard. Then another Skyline family lunch and “Napoleon” at the Oakley Cinemark. 

We played a few more rounds of Codenames on Saturday morning, then enjoyed takeout from the Whole Bowl down the street. To get more reasonable ticket prices, the family had flown in to Louisville, and they set out for their return in the early afternoon. Sad and mopy, Katja and I sat down to watch the second half of the Michigan-Ohio State football game. Despite our pessimism, we were ecstatic with Michigan’s decisive win. It definitely helped us get through the rest of the weekend. 
Love, 
Dave

Sunday, November 19, 2023

GROWING UP IN CLIFTON: A PHOTO TOUR BY J.L.


Dear George, 
Our son J flew up from New Orleans for a long weekend last month, and we had a great time. One of the afternoons he and I walked around our Clifton neighborhood, and J recounted his memories into his cell phone. Here is what he had to say. 
Love, Dave 

J.L.:  My dad and I are doing a project where we talk about childhood experiences in Clifton.  So I am going to document all these spots.  




So here we are at Skyline Chili on Ludlow.  Skyline, for all people born in Cincinnati, is a very special place.  It’s the number one comfort food for Cincinnatians.  When I look at this Skyline, I’ve been here a million times.  I used to come here after tennis matches.  We’d sometimes come here for dinner.  It’s right across the street from Adrian the Florist where I always get flowers for Mom on Mother’s Day.  It’s right across from the little fountain at Burnet Woods which really wasn’t there when I was a kid. 




Burnet Woods has a small hill.  Walking down or sliding down in the winter and then walking through that path to the open area with the picnic tables, the natural history museum, and the lake.  




We’re approaching the house that has my first memories at on Clifton Avenue.  3507 Clifton Avenue.  And, my bedroom was in the back of the house and there was a door that went to the back yard at the driveway where I was always a little bit scared that someone could enter the house from the back right into my room.  So that was a little scary.  I also remember the house had a beautiful painting on the ceiling.  Like cherubs and little babies and angels on the ceiling.  And I also remember that Mom had a room that she wouldn’t let me in.  She had a special room, her office I guess.  And I remember my neighbor, Tom W.  He was my pal.  We would run around in the back yard.  I also remember having my bike stolen there once.  I think I left it in the front yard.  It was stolen very quickly.  Maybe like  the day I got my bike.  Soon after I got my bike.  I also remember learning how to skateboard.  This was at the beginning of the skateboard era.  Those little plastic narrow skateboards.  One time I skated down the driveway and I had to make an incredibly fast turn to escape getting into traffic.   At least it felt very dangerous and fast and unsafe.  And that was my first close call with death.  So lots of fond memories of being in the yard, riding my bicycle, being on the skateboard, getting a ride on the motorcycle with you.  I see now that there’s a big gate in the front.  There was no gate back in the day.  And hanging out with Tom in his yard.  He had a great yard too.  There’s a lot of space back there.  And I remember going to grade school, walking up Clifton Avenue, maybe a quarter of a mile.  A very nice place to grow up.  I was about seven when we left Clifton Avenue.    




So right next door to 3507 is the apartment building which didn’t really mean anything to me until later in life when my grandparents lived here from Philadelphia.  And they stayed there and we would have get-togethers.  Mom would be there all the time, visiting my grandparents.  They had a neighbor here at 310 Bryant who was a Holocaust survivor and who recounted his experience in the Holocaust and that was totally fascinating to me.  He was actually, I believe, at Auschwitz and had some very harrowing stories.  





Across the street from 310 Bryant is Emanuel Church.  This was the entrance to the preschool.  My main memories of Emmanuel were having my finger smashed.  I guess it was Jessica G.  She slammed the door on my finger, and I had to go to the hospital.  I also remember getting bullied by some kid and being traumatized by that.  And, um, that’s pretty much it.  I guess that was a pretty traumatic place, getting physically and emotionally traumatized at Emmanuel Preschool.  




And Annunciation I always felt was a weird place.  I just didn’t understand the origin or the idea of Catholic school.  I always thought growing up that private schools were for people who weren’t smart enough to be at regular public school.  I don’t know where I got that idea.  But I just looked down at kids who went to private school.  Like they were different kids in some way.  I guess I invented that idea.  



I do remember the Unitarian Church over there.  And I do remember going there different times for events or services.  Oh, you know what, there was a day care there during the summer that I went to.  Like a camp.  I feel that I spent some time there, some group activities.   





So now we are approaching Clifton School.  Clifton Elementary School which is now known as the Fairview German Language School.  So it’s a new building, but I think the format is the same.  The parking lot is the same area, and I remember spending a lot of time.  There was a fence over there, and we would hang out by that fence by the parking lot.  And I remember Miss Williams, my teacher.  A very nice teacher, who was sort of firm but loving.  And I remember playing a lot of Four Square.  That was the main sport that we played.  And the main thing I remember about elementary school in this building was passing some test at the end of the year.  I felt some real pressure to do well on this test because if I didn’t score almost like a perfect score I wouldn’t get into the honors program at the next level when I went into seventh grade.  I’m pretty sure that’s the case.  I just remember high stakes.  High stakes as a third-grader.  



Then fourth, fifth, and sixth grade at the big school.  Again I mainly remember the playground, hanging out, a group of boys hanging out in the back.  We called ourselves the Wolves.  We thought we were a gang.  That was exciting.  We played a lot of dodge ball.  We played a lot of kick ball.  A lot of four square, a lot of tinder ball.  





I would do summer camp here at the Rec Center.  We would hang out in that playground area, playing sports.  And I don’t feel that I had any life-altering experiences here.  So looking at the parking lot at the Rec Center — oh, it’s filled.  We used to come and play basketball here, you and me.  That was a happy time.  I had lots of happy feelings here.  






When we moved to Ludlow, I would walk this way to get home, up Middleton.  So I guess around age 8 or 9 you started taking me to Crosley Tower to hit some tennis balls against the wall.  And we would go to Digby where you and Irv Greenberg would place tennis, and occasionally I would hit some balls.  I guess we would go to Crosley Tower to warm up there.  I guess I would come to the tennis court and watch you guys play tennis for one hour or two hours.  And you would take me out to Digby and we’d do drills.  I would sometimes get cranky.  What I really loved about Digby in my memory is that the balls would go out of the court and they would go down this big hill and you and I would go into the forest and scavenge for balls.  We would get tons and tons of balls.  And other things.  Sometimes we’d find interesting garbage or whatever.  That was a fond memory.  And I recall if you went all the way around to the bottom of the hill there was sort of a green space down there.





And I always liked this hill right here.  This hill seemed really steep.  Like climbing Mt. Everest every day.  And we’re coming up on the street where Irv Greenberg lived.  Wood Street.  And I have some nice memories of Wood Street.   There’s the Greenberg house.  It’s a small house.  This house seems too small in my memory.  And the only exciting thing that happened to me walking home to Ludlow on Middleton was during the winter once me and some friends were walking and a car drove by and my friends had this great idea of throwing snowballs.  And as the car passed we lobbed snowballs which would go onto the windshield.  So we would be behind the car and throwing as they were moving away from us.  And the idea was to get snowballs to land on their windshield and we succeeded perfectly.  And it must have stunned the driver because he stopped suddenly and backed up really fast to try to come after us.  They knew who did it.  And it scared the crap out of me at least.  The other kids were laughing but I ran away really fast.  So he didn’t or she didn’t pursue us.  But it was a little scary.  That was my brush with being a juvenile delinquent.  That’s about as bad as it got.  

Around that period we also spent a lot of time at the zoo.  I don’t have any particular stories about the zoo other than just being there.  And seeing the tigers, seeing the monkeys, seeing the lizards.  And we also spent a lot of time at the Natural History Museum.  It was in this great building, like a castle.  It was a pretty neat building, and I did like it.  Mainly I liked the building.  As I recall, there were skeletons of wooly mammoths and other ancient creatures that don’t exist any more.  


This was the house of my teacher from preschool.  It is a nice building.  I’m thankful they were my teachers because when I was being traumatized they would take me to the hospital.  When Jessica G. was smashing my finger.  I remember being pretty hysterical, and they had to hold me down and it was a large, well-cushioned woman who sort of buttressed herself against me to hold me down which felt kind of overwhelming. 


I do remember feeling like there were cool kids in the neighborhood that kind of scared me.  There was a kid named C*** H***  He was a bad kid, he was a little rough.  He never singled me out for bullying, but he seemed like kind of an 80s movie of cool kids that bully other kids.  And he used to spend a lot of time at the arcade in Corryville, and I was always too scared.  I maybe went there one or two times, but it was pretty overwhelming.  


I do remember going to Northside and going thrifting and going to other thrift stores around town.  I guess we’ve been doing that my whole life.  Whenever we went to Menominee you would do research and we’d have an outing and go to yard sales.  I don’t remember that as much in Cincinnati.  




Now we’re standing on Ludlow opposite the Esquire Theater,  right next to the grocery store.  Kitty corner to Graeters.  These are all some of my favorite places.  I don’t have particular stories to tell but these are the places I wanted to go to when I first came home to Cincinnati.  I do remember that the Esquire was a porn theater where they used to have big posters in front that were provocative and titles that were really inappropriate.  Was Ludlow like Times Square back then?  It’s kind of crazy.  I don’t think that that would fly today.  And I remember that Stier’s Pharmacy was right over there.  Mom would go there all the time, or we’d have stuff delivered from there.  And I remember Keller’s IGA.  I remember going there and shopping all the time.   And then there was the Golden Lion.  And that was a gay bar when I was growing up.  And there was a lot of mystery around that place.  The kids in elementary school were pretty titillated by the concept of a gay bar.  Back then there weren’t that many gay bars, I guess.  And now there’s gay bars everywhere, but back then it was a really strange idea.  It seemed that way to a fifteen-year-old.  




Now we’re standing in front of the old library.  It’s no longer a library.  It’s an open concept wine cafe.  We spent a lot of time.  We would go to the library all the time, I guess.  Super-easy to get to.  We would get DVD’s and VHS movies.  When I was really small I would get childrens’ books there.  I went to story-time there.  There was one particular story-teller who I saw numerous times.  I think you would make an effort to get me to go there.  


I remember there was a place called Acropolis where the Tap Room is now.  It was a Greek restaurant, I would have Hero sandwiches there in high school almost every day.  Especially in the summer time.  I’d take my money and go got a Hero sandwich because I loved that so much.  





Here we are, approaching our house.  It’s funny how you only remember the kind of dramatic or traumatic things.  When we first moved here I was throwing snowballs at the stop sign, and a man stopped and flashed me.  We called the cops.  That’s one early memory I have of this house.  And then I remember playing with matches and sticking it in a hole in the floor, and my parents smelled smoke and they asked me if I’d been playing with matches and I said, “No, no, absolutely not.”  And they called the fire department, and three large fire trucks came to our house and an ambulance and a cop or two, and I was interviewed by the fire department.  And I remember spending a lot of the early years hanging out in the neighbor’s yard, going on the top of the garage, and jumping off the top of the garage into the yard.  And I remember when I started playing tennis I would hit tennis balls agains the wall.  I don’t recall getting any complaints about it.  Maybe I timed it so I was doing it when people weren’t home.  And I remember our rabbit coop in the back.  And I remember a dog got loose and scared one of our rabbits so badly that he had a heart attack and died.  I remember you building a snow bunny in the front yard every year.  A really big snow bunny in the front yard.  That was kind of neat.  And I also remember you had a circular fence, and we’d have the bunny in the front yard, in the front yard, and we’d hang out in front.  And the bunny, Thumper,  would hang out there.  Yeah, I love this house.  


And that’s my experience in Clifton.  My wrap-up statement is that Clifton was a really great place to grow up.  I didn’t know what it was like until I was past my childhood, but when I look back I have a lot of fond feelings.  There was a real neighborhood with a lot of businesses and a lot of fun things to do.  I don’t think I had much of a sense of architecture or an aesthetic sense, but it’s such a pretty area.  So green and the architecture’s so neat.  Just as an adult I appreciate that.  (THE END OF THE TOUR) 



Thursday, November 9, 2023

IS BIDEN TOO OLD?


 Dear George, 
If you ask the average voter if Joe Biden is too old to serve a second term as president, you’ll get a resounding “yes”. A recent poll from The Associated Press-NORC Center for Public Affairs Research found that 77% believed Biden to be too old to be effective for four more years. 89% of Republicans said that, as did 74% of Independents and 69% of Democrats. And the view held across age groups, though older Democrats were more supportive of his 2024 bid. In a word association exercise, 28% of Democrats mentioned Biden’s age and preferred words like “slow” or “confused” over “president,” “leader,” “strong,” or “capable.” 

We all carry around stereotypes about age. My own views were shaken up when I attended my 50th high school class reunion some years ago. All of my classmates were about the same age (68). Some appeared to be extremely frail, including a grade school friend who was hooked up to an oxygen tank. At the opposite extreme, everyone was astonished by one of our classmates who looked exactly as he had in his senior yearbook photo. Chronological age didn’t seem to mean much, given the vast differences in how individuals had responded to the aging process. 

There are many examples of prominent people who have remained active and productive in their eighties and beyond. At age 92 multi-billionaire Warren Buffett continues to run Berkshire Hathaway. British broadcaster David Attenborough is still producing wildlife documentaries at age 96. Nancy Pelosi, regarded as the most successful house speaker of all times, was in her eighties during her second term. Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg served on the Supreme Court until she was 87. Seven U.S. senators are in their eighties, including Bernie Sanders and Mitch McConnell. Octagenarian musicians who are still touring and recording include: Willie Nelson, 87; Dionne Warwick, 82; Paul McCartney, 80; Ringo Starr, 82; Yoko Ono, 87; Bob Dylan, 81; and Barbra Streisand, 80. 

There are also a number of heads of state who are currently serving and who are older than Biden. These include the President of Italy (age 82), the President of Cameroon (90), the President of the Palestinian Authority (87), the King of Norway (86), the King of Saudi Arabia (87), Pope Francis (86), the Queen of Denmark (83), the President of Ireland (82), and one of the oldest leaders of all time, Queen Elizabeth II who died in 2022 at age 96. 

Gerontologists do not jump to judgment as rapidly as the American public. A team of gerontologists at Washington University suggest that important qualities for effectiveness as President include honesty, integrity, experience in the processes of democracy, knowledge of history and science, and respect from other world leaders. None of these factors is particularly correlated with chronological age. To the extent that age is relevant, it’s because it gives more opportunities for experience and well-developed relationships. The authors note: “Our country doesn’t need a president who is physically strong or fast. They’re not going to have to win a foot race or lug heavy things around.” A team of longevity researchers at the University of Illinois examined the available medical records of Biden and Trump and concluded that both “are likely to be ‘super-agers’,” a subgroup of people that maintain their mental and physical functioning and tend to live longer than average for their age. 

Biden has had a very successful first term. He signed into law the Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act, providing $1 trillion for infrastructure projects. He rejoined the Paris Agreement on climate change and made significant investments in clean energy and energy efficiency. Biden signed executive orders to reopen enrollment on the Affordable Care Act exchanges and to lower prescription drug costs. He has appointed more women and people of color to the federal courts than any president in history, including Supreme Court Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson. Perhaps most notably Biden has worked to repair alliances with allies and partners around the world. 

On most dimensions the economy has been doing very well during Biden’s administration. Over 13 million jobs have been added, and the unemployment rate of 3.6% is the lowest since 1969. Gross Domestic Product growth has exceeded 6% in three of the last four quarters, and the stock market is at record highs. The main downside is that inflation (8.2%) is at its highest rate since 1981. Biden has taken steps to address inflation, such as releasing oil from the Strategic Petroleum Reserve and working to pass legislation for lower prescription drug costs. Predicting the future, of course, is an iffy business. 

Dr. Karl Pillemer, a prominent gerontologist at Cornell University, sums it up this way: "There is no one answer to the question of whether or not President Biden is too old to be president. It depends on a number of factors, including his health, his cognitive abilities, and his energy level. It is important to note that there is a great deal of variation in aging, and some people remain sharp and healthy well into their eighties and nineties.” 

Biden’s own response to the question is probably the best answer: “Watch me.” 
Love, 
Dave 

SOURCES: (1) apnews.com, “Biden is widely seen as too old for office.” Aug. 28, 2023; (2) brookings.edu, “Is Biden too old to be president? Is Trump?” May 19, 2023; (3) publichealth.wustl.edu, “Too old to be president? A view from some gerontologists,. Aug. 8, 2023; (4) whitehouse.gov, “The Biden-Harris Record,” accessed Nov. 6, 2023.