“Argument in Favor of the Elegant Gesture”

We shun the “show of things” Too much, desiring [...]]]> Phyllis read this poem by Bob, written about 1940 or so, when he was at U.Va. This was written when he was both editor and contributor to the poetry journal published by students at U.Va.

“Argument in Favor of the Elegant Gesture”

We shun the “show of things”
Too much, desiring to be “deep”
It takes a stronger man to walk awake
Than in a mystic sleep.

THUS: when a man is doomed
He should not cry to heaven ‘Why?”
But carefully brush his coat
And so go out to die.

Bob Schenkkan

There’s a breathless hush in the Close to-night – Ten to make and the match to win – A bumping pitch and a blinding light, An hour to play and the last man in. And it’s not for the sake of a ribboned coat, Or the [...]]]> Vitai Lampada
(“They Pass On The Torch of Life”)

There’s a breathless hush in the Close to-night –
Ten to make and the match to win –
A bumping pitch and a blinding light,
An hour to play and the last man in.
And it’s not for the sake of a ribboned coat,
Or the selfish hope of a season’s fame,
But his Captain’s hand on his shoulder smote –
‘Play up! play up! and play the game!’

The sand of the desert is sodden red, –
Red with the wreck of a square that broke; –
The Gatling’s jammed and the Colonel dead,
And the regiment blind with dust and smoke.
The river of death has brimmed his banks,
And England’s far, and Honour a name,
But the voice of a schoolboy rallies the ranks:
‘Play up! play up! and play the game!’

This is the word that year by year,
While in her place the School is set,
Every one of her sons must hear,
And none that hears it dare forget.
This they all with a joyful mind
Bear through life like a torch in flame,
And falling fling to the host behind –
‘Play up! play up! and play the game!’

Sir Henry Newbolt (1862-1938)

You will take living seriously that is, to such an extent, so very much that, for example, your [...]]]> 1
Living is no joke
you will live with a great seriousness
                             like a squirrel for instance
that is, not expecting anything except and beyond living
                             that is, all your work will be to live.

You will take living seriously
that is, to such an extent, so very much that,
for example, your arms bound behind you, your back to the wall
or, in enormous goggles,
                             in a white shirt in a laboratory,
                                               you will die for people,
                             not only for people whose faces you’ve never seen
                             not only without anyone forcing you to it
                             but also despite knowing the most beautiful, most real thing
                                               is to live.

That is, so seriously will you take living,
that in your seventies even, for instance, you will plant an olive tree,
                   not saying, “Let it be for the children” or some such talk
                   instead despite fearing dying not believing in death,
                                                 living, that is, from the pressure of its weight.

2
Say we’re sick in a bad way,
that is, there’s a good chance we will
                   not be getting up from the white table.
Even if we can’t help but feel the grief of an early departure
we will still laugh telling the joke about Bektaş
saying, is it raining, looking through the window,
or once more impatiently awaiting
                                               the final news of the day.

Say there’s some things worth fighting for.
                                               say, we’re at the front.
What’s more there in the first wave, what’s more that day
                                       we may die face down in the mud.
With a strange bitterness we will know this
                             yet still madly we will dream
                             the war stretched on for years may someday end.

Say we are in prison
nearing fifty in age
even more so say it’s 18 years to the opening of the iron door.
Yet still we will live with the outside,
with its people, its animals, its struggle, its wind
                                                 that is, with the outside beyond the wall.

That is, no matter where and how we are
                   as if we would never die we will live.
3
This world will grow cold
one star among the stars
                             and one of the tiniest even
like a glittering speck in a field of purple velvet
                             that is, this vast world of ours.

This world will grow cold one day
Although not like a block of ice or a dead cloud
like an empty walnut shell it will tumble
                             in the pitch darkness without end.

Already the pain of this will be stirring,
the sorrow of it already felt.
Such is this world that will be loved
                             So you may say, “I lived”…

Nazim Hikmet
1947-1948

More from the memorial to follow:

Izac Walton.

Bob was the “Complete Angler.”

<picture>

That’s him at the end of the line. The handsome fellow in the middle is me.

I don’t know who those other bums are but they were always around. Very irritating.

If it is true that the time [...]]]> My Gospel today is from the Book of Izac.

Izac Walton.

Bob was the “Complete Angler.”

<picture>

That’s him at the end of the line. The handsome fellow in the middle is me.

I don’t know who those other bums are but they were always around. Very irritating.

If it is true that the time a man spends fishing is not counted against his allotment, than perhaps we can understand why Bob lived to the age of 93. In angler’s years he was just a shade under 60.

Bob loved fishing. He had been taught by his own father, Jopie, who used to rent or “borrow” – he had a longshoreman’s sense of private property –  a row boat and fish the nooks and crannies of Upper New York Bay. Bob, in turn, taught us to fish, mostly here on the small rivers of the Hill Country.

I think you need four qualities to be a good fisherman. Bob possessed all of them.

Patience. Or “Good things come to those that wait.”  Not a bad quality in Public Television either.

Optimism.  Or “Surely, if I wait long enough, good things will come.” See Public Television.

Stoicism. My waders are leaking, the mosquitoes are biting but the fish are not, and it’s raining so hard I can’t see my hand in front of my face. La la la la la!

And finally, and perhaps most importantly, what might be described as:

“An innate appreciation for the Ride.”

That is the rare ability to enjoy the elements – whatever they might be – relish the challenges – whatever gets thrown at you – and savor the quiet companionship of those who, however briefly, might share your little patch of bright water.

Where-ever you are, Dad: tight lines.