[cont. from page 2]
And then, hand in hand, shined my Mother with her symphonic Italian lilts and keen sensitivities. Richard Hugo, after urging young poets to simply have fun with the sounds of words, would proclaim in his next breath, And if you’re not risking sentimentality, you’re not even in the ballpark. My Mother taught me it’s okay to feel compassion, sadness, to cry. The writer Gretel Erhlich said it first, but my Mother illustrates and evokes this beautiful proclamation daily:
To be tough is to be fragile
To be tender is to be truly FIERCE!
May you never fear and/or try to hide your most sentimental emotions. The LAST thing this ol’ world needs, especially today, is more hard-hearted people. Call Me Lucky because I’ve been around a lot of super-FIERCE hard-rock miners, cowboys, ranch women, athletes, whose briskets could barely contain their colossal tickers, their big soft hearts.
One more time—from Gretel Erhlich:
To be tough is to be fragile
To be tender is to be truly FIERCE!
I’ve Learned (4) the foundation of tenderness, perhaps, is the capacity to forgive. My New Year’s resolutions—through my 20s and 30s, into my 40s—were mostly self-centered, as I resolved to do things that would serve me and only me in some tangible way. As I approached my 40s, my tune, thank goodness and wisdom, changed. For the past decade or so, I’ve adopted an 8-word (8’s my favorite number after pursuing the 8-second bronc ride for so many years) New Year’s resolution mantra and/or maxim:
Give and be giving
And especially BE
Forgiving.
lyrically poetic lines I’ve ever built a story, a song, around. Without a word of introduction or a word of explanation, she sensually whispered:
The Guinness caresses the Harp as you sip it.
Can you HEAR the silver kissing diamonds kissing gold in every syllable?
The Guinness caresses the Harp as you sip it.
Forgiveness, it blesses the heart if you let it.
From that lovely couplet, I fashioned a song lyric put to music and recorded by an Alberta band called Cowboy Celtic. The royalties checks are pouring in, most recently, for the first quarter of 2004, 15 dollars and change—almost as much as I tipped the bartender. But we aren’t talking money here; we’re talking a much greater wealth, that of both giving and receiving.
I’ve Learned (7) our voices are not the only significant voices on this planet. There are the voices of other cultures, of course, but just as critical, the voices of other species. I’ve Learned (8) that fellow beings, from the blue whale to the blue bird, deserve a say in decisions made concerning their well-being. I quote writer Natalie Goldberg, who takes this perception further than most:
Everything is speaking if we listen. A rock just talks slower. It takes a hundred years for it to say one syllable. We’re not around long enough to hear what it has to say.
I’ve Learned (9) that we all have an innate right to a feeling of self-worth, to dignity, to a feeling of equality. I don’t care what you do for a living, as long as you’re abiding by the laws of the land, and not harming others, and doing your work with pride, to the best of your ability, it’s worth as much—no more, no less—as what anybody else has devoted their life to. A good mechanic, waitress, fence-builder, secretary, tire-buster, WHATEVER, equals a famous movie actor, rock star, athlete, heart surgeon, etc. Prestige and status and high-falutin’ titles are purely cosmetic.
ENTRIES:
Newsflash: 12/4/2008
Reno Gazette-Journal Review
Santa Fe Lensic Theater
Close Encounters—The Interview
Commencement
Putting the Bite into Cowboy Poetry
Newsflash: 01-13-08
Newsflash: 11-28-2007
Proclamation/Preview
Newsflash: 10-04-2007
Making Wood
Postscript to Making Wood
Tom Russell/Cowboys & Indians
Western Horseman review
Tom Russell review
Ray March review
Red Shuttleworth
Happy Birthday Paul!
(News?) Flash: 4-24-2007
© Paul Zarzyski. All rights reserved. These words may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
This has not been easy for a hot-blooded Polish-EYEtalian kid who, bless me Father for I have sinned, relates to the HBO series, the Sopranos—whose Polish Grandfather…
…booby trapped with blasting caps
a stick of ash—drilled its heart out,
packed the charge with chips and pitch,
then waited for his neighbor, stealing firewood
by night, to filch that block that blew
and cracked his new Majestic
stove to worthless cast. Shook the wife
so bad, they say she never cooked again….
(now there’s a story that could have happened right here in the gulch!)
I’ve Learned (5) the human population breaks down into two categories: Givers and Takers. I’ve decided I do NOT want to cash-in the proverbial chips knowing I was more the latter. I’ve decided that I do not have to be monetarily wealthy in order to be a philanthropist and bestow onto others tremendous gifts.
I’ve Learned (6), moreover, the deep DEEP truth arising out of that old saying to give is to receive. The gifts you give come back to you in the most wonderfully mysterious ways, sometimes so long after, or even BEFORE, the act of giving occurs that you don’t even correlate the two. And sometimes, it’s immediate.
Here’s an example that includes alcoholic beverages, barley pop, which, I’m betting, will get your attention, if’n you haven’t been listening thus far: The watering hole is called Pug Mahone’s, an Irish pub in Billings. Perched on a barstool, I order a Black & Tan, a brewski-duet in which a pint glass is first half-filled with Harp or Bass ale, then second-tiered with Guinness. Very difficult to pour, but a professional mixologist can impeccably float the heftier Stout atop the Ale without any melding of the two. The bartender looked a bit sad, maybe bored, I don’t know. I remember her as being quite lovely, but my intent was not to flirt but rather to compliment the most perfect Black & Tan I’d ever seen—a razor-sharp, paper-thin seam between the elixirs. I raved, I cheered, I did everything but get up on top of the bar and dance a Black & Tan Jig in her honor. I think I even got her to crack a smile. In return, she gifted me with one of the most
