First Words
…thoughts of an anachronistic, solo pediatrician
by Glenn Feole, M.D.
"Be careful too that the reading of your story makes the melancholy
laugh and the merry laugh louder," Cervantes, Prologue to Don Quixote
Contact: ishmaelish36@gmail.com
Blog site: ishmaelish36.blogspot.com
June 12, 2014 Thursday
 |
| I sometimes bring Woody into the exam room so my patients can have fun and feel comfortable. I often find him in various poses after they have left. |
“vagaginal delivery”
Interesting name:
Seven
Anecdote:
While describing her nine month old son's condition to me, a Mother said that, "He has a fever and has been acting nostalgic all day." Westport, Connecticut, 1990's
Poetry:
The Tresle (an excerpt)
I’ve wasted my time this morning, and I’m deeply ashamed.
I went to bed last night thinking about my dad.
About that little river we used to fish – Butte Creek –
near Lake Almonor. Water lulled me to sleep.
…
Watching my dad drink from his cupped hands.
Then he said, “This water’s so good.
I wish I could give my mother some of this water.”
My dad still loved her, though she was dead
and he’d been away from her a long time.
He had to wait some more years
until he could go where she was.
…and from the trestle I could look down
And see my dad when I needed to see him.
My dad drinking that cold water. My sweet Father.
The river, its meadows, and firs, and the trestle.
That. Where I once stood.
I wish I could do that
without having to plead with myself for it.
And feel sick of myself
for getting involved in lesser things.
I know it’s time I changed my life.
This life – the one with its complications
and phone calls – it unbecoming,
and a waste of time.
I want to plunge my hands in clear water. The way
he did. Again and then again.
by Raymond Carver
Coup d'essai: On Time
So much poetry touches the heart with the theme of time…the passage of time, lost opportunities, nostalgia, just as the nine month old had above. I think that is why I carried around Proust during my third year as a resident. The title alone got me, "In Search of Past Time." The sudden, unexpected smell of grass in the first days of spring, a summer breeze, a song from Freshman year…that's all it takes to transport in ecstasy to some previously hidden, precious memory.
Favorite book/author:
Bernard Malamud, especially the short stories.
One of my all time favorites is "The Magic Barrell."
I read in a biography of him, as I recall, that he composed it in the basement of a college library where, not having an advanced degree in creative writing, he would write between teaching introductory Freshman writing classes in California. To create such beauty in such circumstances.
Favorite movie:
The Straight Story
Superb, simply poetry. Depth of feeling (Father and daughter…Sissy Spacek; brother to brother…forgiveness. The photography is among the most exquisite I have seen. Directed, to my amazement, by David Lynch for this (ha) "Disney Film." An all time favorite. And the music…meditative.
Favorite Song/Artist
"Hummingbird" by Seals and Crofts.
Feelings of love, longing, beauty. Equivalent to a Keatsian poem. And the bass player (exquisite, tasteful, inventive, subtle) for this group was an inspiration that I, unconsciously absorbing it during my college years at Princeton with endless playings, would later emulate when I took time off from medical school to form a jazz-funk band…playing bass. One of the loves of my life.
No comments:
Post a Comment