50+ Lifestyles

Max’s Musings

By Max Molleston

Here we are, bounding into year 2016! When we 50+ers were setting teeth (originals) in our mouth, the world was simple for us, but from the 40s into the 1950s, our fighters landed away from our shores. The 30s had been a human disaster with financial depression worldwide. The dustbowl in the plains was another destructive punch to our humanity. Most of our parents and eligible relatives, men under 38 years, I think, were summoned into uniforms, and weapons of war became standard issue. Those of us somewhat younger tasted jobs and income, offset by disturbance from Viet Nam fighting, for those of us literally involved.  Folks at home, moved through protests of that military action, followed by political upset within and surrounding the Watergate mess.

Sometime in the middle of all that military confusion and civil disruption, along came television. One of our memories which brought some fun and enjoyment into our homes, albeit late at night, was a man named Steve Allen and his zany routines with Tom Poston, and others. Allen had many talents – Jazz music and other reaches into contemporary cultures. Poetry was one landing place for this talented man. Did you know that? I learned it in a book. One book of the dozens my late friend and poetry benefactor Dick Mackin made sure I received. This volume, Wry on the Rocks, a play on an erstwhile popular whiskey, recharged as an Iowa original, and since claimed initially as an Indiana solution. This edition was cast off  a shelve at the Davenport Public Library. Borrowed only seven times from those stacks. We are looking into the future with this January essay, so I have, for you,  a small sampling of Steve Allen.

Past and Future.

Past equals now a minor mood, a sadness,
Without direct relation to its truth,
For tears remembered lead to tears again
But laughter recollected leads to tears
A wry consideration of what’s lost.
Quite plainly there is some imbalance here.

Shy future offers a solution,
With hope the magic puzzle’s key.
Experience is truly a poor teacher;
We none of us look forward  but to good
Or something better, at the very least,
So though we weep at some lost hours of joy,
We laugh before a host of tragedies.

Steve Allen speaks from both his and our experiences, as all human-kind works this way.  It is much easier to reflect  on our pasts than project ourselves into a future. Another of Steven Allen’s short poems he titled:

June Night

We used to go out in the rowboats
Laughing in the summer night,
Put trumpets to our unsure lips
And blow wild cracking notes across the black lagoon.
We used to listen to them echo
From the walls of the museum
Under the cool Chicago stars,
We would laugh the rough cackle
While lovers whispered curses to the water.

If I had to describe action taking place (who would deny such an account) I would reason intended tomfoolery perhaps repeated to bring both joy and dismay for those minutes on busy close-in shores of Lake Michigan. This volume had a 1956  copyright . Some of you may recall Steve Allen authored other books, including  Bop Fables, Fourteen for Tonight, and The Funny Men. Wry On The Rocks, contains 179 poems.

Steve Allen spent time and  effort getting  these on paper and in print. Inside the  cover a Houston, Texas journalist (Houston Press) had this summary. “Allen’s stories reveal the  highly literate, serious, purposeful  author behind the piano-playing  gag man.” Would you agree? For almost all of us  “long ago” TV nighttime viewers, Steve Allen made us feel good. Maybe feel better about ourselves. February is a sweet month. Join me and see if  I push away the snow and cold.