The Comfort of Poetry: “i thank You God for most this amazing day” by e. e. cummings

Tomorrow is the first day for teachers of the 2010 – 2011 school year.  I have a wickedly specific case of “last-day-of-summer-vacation” angst coupled with the more general overlay of Sunday blues, so I’ve been cleaning out my desk at home vainly attempting to push aside lists of other things I have to do and didn’t get done over the long, lazy days of July.

Serendipitously I stumbled across a scribbled note to myself on the back of a Sur & Plus Pure Architectural Living, Rambla sofa product sheet for a sofa Aaron and I saw in a shop window in Leiden last spring and never looked at again (couldn’t afford it if we had loved it, which we didn’t thank goodness).  I had written: “i thank You God for most this amazing day”, Eric Whitacre, ee cummings poem”…three or four lines, hurriedly written and shoved into the top right-hand corner in my usual scrawled writing. I remember now hearing Eric Whitacre’s setting for the poem sung by a choir on our favorite NPR station, Classical Minnesota Public Radio, and it had moved me to tears one morning over coffee with it’s thankful beauty and pure expressed faith in the present moment containing all we need to be comforted and content.

Despair not is the message here from my past self to me today, this day is perfect just as it is no matter the undone to-dos and the lurking worries about beginning the new school year:

“i thank You God for most this amazing”

i thank You God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any–lifted from the no
of all nothing–human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

And here the ears of your ears can hear e. e. cummings magically read the poem in 1953:

And here the eyes of your eyes can see Eric Whitacre’s amazing setting of the poem performed in 1999 by the Dutch VU-Kamercoor:

Book News: Girl in Translation Chosen as One of “Top 30 Books for 2010″ by Woman and Home Magazine

Love the cover! Perfect color of blue, and the pencil chignon is both exotic and academic. This cover sells the book really well, both for adults and YA readers.

Exciting book news today!  Our friend Jean Kwok’s first novel Girl in Translation has recently received another kudo to add to her growing list of great reviews and “best of” lists, which includes being a NYT extended bestseller, a Barnes and Noble “Discover Great New Writers” pick, an Indie Next List pick by independent booksellers of the American Booksellers Association, and a Blue Ribbon pick for all of the following clubs: Book of the Month, Doubleday, Literary Guild, Large Print, the Lifestyle Clubs, Rhapsody and Book of the Month Club 2 (Kwok).  Girl in Translation has just been listed as one of the “Top 30 Books for 2010″ by Woman and Home magazine, one of my favorite fun reads to enjoy while traveling or with a glass or cup of something relaxing.  The editors’ call it a “Superbly written and observed coming-of-age novel” (“Top 30 Books for 2010″).  If you haven’t read Jean’s book yet, you are in for a treat:

“When Kimberly Chang and her mother emigrate from Hong Kong to Brooklyn squalor, she quickly begins a secret double life: exceptional schoolgirl during the day, Chinatown sweatshop worker in the evenings. Disguising the more difficult truths of her life—the staggering degree of her poverty, the weight of her family’s future resting on her shoulders, her secret love for a factory boy who shares none of her talent or ambition—Kimberly learns to constantly translate not just her language but herself, back and forth, between the worlds she straddles (Girl in Translation).”

Kimberly’s story is a quintessentially American one that draws in echoes of Dickens’ gritty factory scenes, Cinderella-cruel characters, and even the sweet sounds of a violin being played to a little girl in the dark that immediately reminded me of the Little House on the Prairie books.  It is Kimberly and her mom against the world, and Jean’s amazing ability to describe Kimberly’s English to Chinese mistranslations  is one of the real strengths of her narrative.  It helps the reader share Kimberly’s confusion, her frustrations and, ultimately, her triumphs, rooting for her all the way.

In addition, Jean just published an article for The Mail on Sunday, “The Sweatshop Was My Second Home: How One Woman Escaped the Poverty Trap”, an autobiographical piece where, for the first time, she shares with her readers in-depth details about her life as a gifted little girl who was also a Chinese immigrant, lived in condemned housing in Brooklyn and worked at a sweatshop in Chinatown after school in order to help support her parents and three older brothers.  Jean’s personal story is the backbone of her novel and as American-Dream as you can get, a hard-scrabble immigrant life at home while at school her work ethic, talent and intelligence enable her to master English and then soar academically, ultimately landing her at Harvard where she still managed to work four jobs to support herself.  She graduated with honors in American and English Literature, but focusing her studies on the humanities and becoming an author wasn’t the traditional way to succeed in the Chinese community, particularly for a young woman.  She describes why she bucked conventional careers in “financially secure careers” that are highly sought after and concentrated on her writing instead:

“I felt it was important to write about the world I had seen – most children who work in sweatshops grow up to be adults who work in sweatshops. The ones who do manage to leave that world usually choose financially secure careers – medicine, engineering, accountancy – not writing. The one question people always ask me when they hear about my novel is: could it really happen in America? My answer is ‘Yes’.

Although most of the clothing factories in Chinatown have now moved back to China, there is still no shortage of low-wage labour. I am certain that many immigrants still work incredibly hard day and night, many with children in tow, simply to make ends meet” (“The Sweatshop Was My Second Home”).

The article in the Mail joins the flood of interviews, book signings, radio shows, photo shoots and conference appearances Jean has been participating in on her whirlwind tour of the States and the UK promoting her novel.  I have been following her press via her posts on Facebook and it has been fascinating to watch Jean blaze her trail through the publishing and bookselling world.  The poignant piece of Jean’s success is that her brother Kwan, brilliant in his own right and her “biggest fan”, was killed in a plane accident in 2009, but it is a comfort to know that he got to read a proof of his kid sister’s story before he died and that his encouragement of Jean’s writing enabled her to share with all of us who read Girl in Translation.

In the spring, Jean was gracious enough to make sure the HS Library received 10 Advanced Reading Copies of her novel, which I promptly and enthusiastically shared out to my teacher colleagues and high school students to take home this summer to read and enjoy.  There will also be plenty of copies of Jean’s book available when school starts in two weeks because we are looking forward to having Jean, her busy speaking schedule permitting, come and visit our school this Fall…the great news for us is that she lives so close in nearby Voorschoten.  We can’t wait to welcome her to ASH!

For Our Little Dude “Who Looks Like Elvis”: Carol Ann Duffy’s “The Good Child’s Guide to Rock’n'Roll”

Morgan & Milo Blue Suede Shoes, sadly no longer available...but we'll keep looking!

For those new to our world here in The Netherlands, my husband Aaron and I are adopting two beautiful children from Ethiopia this year, most likely late this fall.  I have spent this morning opening Picasa web albums from our agency’s group account finding our little girl and our little dude’s faces in the photos and marveling again at how spectacularly unpredictable life can be.  In January, no kids and no kids on the horizon.  Fly to Tanzania in February to chaperone our international school’s service trip to Moshi.  Paint classrooms for a local primary school and spend one hot, dusty, momentous afternoon playing with a quiet little 3-year-old girl named Theresia at the Upendo Children’s Home, an orphanage run by the Precious Blood Sisters of Tanzania.  Return to the Netherlands committed to adopting from East Africa.  Research options for the region and land on Ethiopia.  Sign our contract with International Adoption Guides on April 14.  Receive two unrelated children’s referrals, the first in April, a six-year-old girl, and the second in early June, a 24-month-old boy.  Fall deeply in love with their eyes, their curly heads of hair, their shy smiles, their mismatched clothes.  And now we wait to bring them home, gathering up tiny bits of information about their personalities, their shoe sizes, their favorite crayon colors.

Every month or so, families fly to Addis Abeba to bring their adopted children home and on that trip they meet our children.  The traveling families play with the kiddos at IAG’s care center in Addis, deliver care packages from waiting parents back home to their waiting children and send precious messages back to expectant families about what their children are like, what they’re wearing, what their shoe sizes are. One family was charmed by the chubby toddler who acted like the care center was his own private social club.  They asked about this little boy, who turned out to be our little dude, and whether he had a family yet or not, they described him as “the little guy who looks like Elvis”.  Two years old, and our son has the look of the King about him.  I can see it in the photos, soulful eyes that downturn slightly at the edges of his long lashed lids, wickedly attractive smile, toddling around the center like he is its official ambassador, ruler of fun, probably up to no good.  When we tell him this story, which we are saving for him in his Life Book, how will he know why it’s so cool that he reminded someone of Elvis?

Serendipitously, I have an answer written by Poet Laureate Carol Ann Duffy in stanza 5 or her poem “The Good Child’s Guide to Rock’n'Roll” from her 2009 collection New and Collected Poems for Children:

5 Elvis Presley (1935-1977)

Elvis was King,
he swiveled
his hips, wore
drainpipe jeans
with gold zips,
sang, danced,
pouted, sneered –
You ain’t nothin’
but a hound dog

bowed, dis-
appeared.  Elvis
was King, drove
a pink Cadillac,
drank ice-cream soda
in the back.
His Mama said
her boy done well,
Elvis sang
Heartbreak Hotel,
died too young
still the King,
now the angels
hear him sing –
Love me tender,
love me true
,
tapping on his cloud
with a blue
suede shoe (17).

Not a bad introduction to the King for our little guy.  I’ll make sure he has some blue suede kicks to tap his feet to when we crank up the poetry and the music.  Here, at home, together.

Link to this post @ The Uncommon Reader