December 2, 2014
Max’s Musings
By Max Molleston
We are into that special gift-giving season that rolls around the calendar each year. Just when did you, or do you, begin thinking and doing about special presents for special people in your life? Did you find something in July, or will it call your name as a box of candy, special as it can be, from the drugstore. My present is to myself, so no surprise how it gets to me, and how much I am going to appreciate it. It is from someone I know and appreciate, so that should be enough. It is Ted Koosers’ latest book of poems. He titled it:
Splitting an Order
I like to watch an old man cutting a sandwich in half, maybe an ordinary cold roast beef on whole wheat bread, no pickles or onion, keeping his shaky hands steady by placing his forearms firmly on the edge of the table and using both hands, the left to hold the sandwich in place, and the right to cut it surely, corner to corner, observing his progress through glasses that moments before he wiped with his napkin, and then to see him lift half onto the extra plate he asked the server to bring, and then to wait, offering the plate to his wife while she slowly unrolls her napkin and places her spoon, her knife, and her fork in their proper places, then smooths the starched white napkin over her knees and meets his eyes and holds out both hands to him.
Where do such slices (no pun) of life come from, and how do they get to us? Poets seem to observe in a special way. See it, put it down, let it wiggle around on the page, then carefully install all of these sightings you place in your poem. Ted could have remembered this from his parents activity, or grandparents, or from a couple nearby, where he was taking some lunch.
If you are new to Kooser poetry or just like the poem I have presented, his book is titled Splitting an Order, sells for around twenty-three dollars, and will be in the poetry section of the bookstore you may frequent. My gift to me came in mid-October and tops a list which has nothing beneath it. I’ve known Ted Kooser for spdecades. He is seventy-five now and likes being an old man. My wife, Rhoada and I are a little older than Ted, but are long-time friends, as he was with my mother in Ames, Iowa. Ted claims that while she lived, she became his last connection to the folks in Ames that both he and she knew or had known.
There is always more than one reason or idea in my head and heart when I write to you readers each month. My wife and I are known to split an order and be content, but we’re not as elegant doing it as Ted’s husband and wife in his poem. I am just as sure that many of you reading today do the same thing, cooking at home or eating out. Consider this: you and I are gifts to each other, writer and reader as the months have stretched into years. I am always grateful for you, my audience. You, of course, are my gift.
We will need to look past, into 2015, next month.
