Poetry Friday: Ringing in the New Year

Happy New Year's Eve from Chapel Hill! We're visiting my brother and his family -- enjoying all the comforts of a college town: great restaurants, great vintage shops (I scored a knee length leather jacket for $14), and a fun science center.

We are heading home in time to ring in the New Year tonight. Speaking of ringing, I just had a debate with another  poet over Edgar Allan Poe's "The Bells."

Fernando Quijano III (AKA Baltimore's The Word Pimp) performed the poem for Poetry Out Loud when he was in high school. The "tinkle tinkle tinkles" didn't take him to the next round of competition.

Which made me realize, "The Bells" is one of those love it or hate it kind of poems. I admit to being a hater. Until I read Sharon Creech's middle grade NIV, Love That Dog. In Creech's book, elementary schooler Jack digs the pure sounds of Poe's bell ringing.

Does "The Bells" ring your bell or give you a headache?

The Bells
by Edgar Allan Poe
I. Hear the sledges with the bells-- Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells From the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells-- From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.   II. Hear the mellow wedding bells Golden bells! What a world of happiness their harmony foretells! Through the balmy air of night How they ring out their delight! From the molten-golden notes, And all in tune, What a liquid ditty floats To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats On the moon! Oh, from out the sounding cells, What a gush of euphony voluminously wells! How it swells! How it dwells On the Future! how it tells Of the rapture that impels To the swinging and the ringing Of the bells, bells, bells, Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells-- To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!   III. Hear the loud alarum bells-- Brazen bells! What tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells! In the startled ear of night How they scream out their affright! Too much horrified to speak, They can only shriek, shriek, Out of tune, In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire, Leaping higher, higher, higher, With a desperate desire, And a resolute endeavor Now--now to sit or never, By the side of the pale-faced moon. Oh, the bells, bells, bells! What a tale their terror tells Of Despair! How they clang, and clash, and roar! What a horror they outpour On the bosom of the palpitating air! Yet the ear, it fully knows, By the twanging, And the clanging, How the danger ebbs and flows ; Yet, the ear distinctly tells, In the jangling, And the wrangling, How the danger sinks and swells, By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells-- Of the bells-- Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells-- In the clamour and the clangour of the bells!   IV. Hear the tolling of the bells-- Iron bells! What a world of solemn thought their monody compels! In the silence of the night, How we shiver with affright At the melancholy meaning of their tone! For every sound that floats From the rust within their throats Is a groan. And the people--ah, the people-- They that dwell up in the steeple, All alone, And who, tolling, tolling, tolling, In that muffled monotone, Feel a glory in so rolling On the human heart a stone-- They are neither man nor woman-- They are neither brute nor human-- They are Ghouls:-- And their king it is who tolls ; And he rolls, rolls, rolls, rolls, Rolls A pæan from the bells! And his merry bosom swells With the pæan of the bells! And he dances, and he yells ; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the pæan of the bells-- Of the bells : Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the throbbing of the bells-- Of the bells, bells, bells-- To the sobbing of the bells ; Keeping time, time, time, As he knells, knells, knells, In a happy Runic rhyme, To the rolling of the bells-- Of the bells, bells, bells-- To the tolling of the bells, Of the bells, bells, bells, bells-- Bells, bells, bells--     Reading this poem just after my middle schooler studied Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, I can't help but see a connection. The speaker in the poem -- the character of Victor Frankenstein -- they both have that obsessive, gloom and doom or bright as the heavens personality. Interesting. However you celebrate New Year's, may your heavens twinkle with a crystalline delight this evening. Thanks for hosting the Poetry Friday party this week, Carol! Stop by Carol's Corner for some poetry fireworks.

Musing on Louis Armstrong -- An Interview with Muriel Weinstein, Part 3

We've been spending a few days with Muriel Weinstein who -- in her 80s -- has a new career as a children's author.

Muriel's first two books are When Louis Armstrong Taught Me Scat, a jazzy picture book, and the newly released chapter book bio, Play, Louis, Play. Muriel is currently working on her third book for children.

Muriel, how did your picture book -- a little girl's bubble-gum romp with a scatting Louis Armstrong -- lead to Play, Louis, Play?

When I wrote the picture book about bubble gum and Louis came to the little girl in a dream, my editor said they'd like a one page article on Louis' life. No problem. So I set about reading more about Louis.

As I started to read, I wanted to read more and more. He interested me so much that by the time I finished I FELL IN LOVE WITH HIM. There were a million books on the market about Louis Armstrong, but I didn't care. I read them and felt I had something else to say for young kids that kids needed to hear. "Lookit this kid!"

Armstrong had to work at many things, think them up because no one hired a seven year old kid. (Play, Louis, Play shows the young Armstrong helping to support his  mother and sister).What impressed me most about Louis as a boy and man was his honesty and his generosity. He was a loving, lovable guy.

I love this section of the biography:

"Mayann's [Armstrong's mother] neighborhood was as rough at the Battlefield. But Little Louis never noticed that.  Music was all he heard: horns wah-wah-wahing, slow 'n' sad drag-me-out blues, riffs on razzmatazz cornets, and jazzy beats of thumping piano keys. Their sounds, like waves in an ocean, rolled into him, flooded his ears, and flowed through his body." 

What kind of research did you do for the chapter book?

There is  a Louis Armstong archive at Queen College in Queens, NY. They give you a large pad and a pen or pencil, and you enter a room with a large table in which you alone are present and you have access to any book or article or photo or music concerning Louis or that Louis ever wrote.

I LOVED reading Louis' autobiographies. It was is if you were hearing him speak. No corrections were made. All his scribbling was left and I had the feeling of reading over his shoulder -- as if he were alive and watching me read, as if he heard my laughter, my incredulous sighs, and was loving it.

Armstrong wrote two autobiographies: MY LIFE IN NEW ORLEANS and LOUIS ARMSTRONG IN HIS OWN WORDS. They were of inestimable value. They made me FEEL what he felt.

What's your advice to would-be authors about finding your voice and about longevity.

My advice? I don't give a damn what are you are, whether extremely young or old. If you feel like writing then, by golly, DO IT!!! Dont' think of anything but doing it. Don't think of future gains. Don't think of publishing. Don't think of money. If you want to write, then write. The rest will come into play.

Muriel -- thanks for the visit. It's been a joy to get to know you. I wish you luck in your continued success, lady!

Musing on Louis Armstrong -- An Interview with Muriel Weinstein, Part 2

Yesterday, children's author Muriel Weinstein told us how, in her 80s, she became a children's author.

Her picture book, When Louis Armstrong Taught Me Scat, came out in 2008. This month, her second book was released. Play, Louis, Play is a chapter book biography of Armstrong, told from the point of view of his first horn.

Muriel, describe the role of poetry in your work. You have published poetry for adults in literary journals. (Read one of Muriel's poems in the Cortland Review.)

Poetry is my life's blood. Poetry continues to grow in my soul. It came in a time of stress when I was getting a divorce, a million years ago ... in the Ice Age ... and I am still with it. That's w hat  my marriage felt like; frozen tundra, isolated Arctic, ice floes -- so I turned to poetry. Private poems, but they saved my life.

I discovered how healthy and how important it was to write our feelings out. Then little by little, one raindrop at a time, I showed my work and was encouraged to continue.  When I sent it out, VOILA! It was published.

Which poetic skills serve you well as a children's author? How did you incorporate poetry into your non-fiction biography of Louis Armstrong's early life?

Many skills in poetry serve me as a children's author. First, the wonderful metaphors, similes, the abilities to see unlike things and find a common thread. The ability to write clearly, to crystallize a point, to paint pictures, to show feelings, all of these come to play in both poetry and children's fiction. 

PLAY, LOUIS, PLAY is full of poetry. In fact, poetry drives it. There are many regional types of dialogue that Louis might have with his grandma or with himself. He often talked to himself, and he was a colorful speaker. So poetry was in his soul, which poured out in music, but it was also on his tongue and I had to find that.

How and why did you decide to describe Armstrong's early life from the point of view of his first cornet? (Here is a photo of that cornet. It has been at the Smithsonian and other museums.)

The horn really held his heart. I had a phrase, but my editor felt it was too hard for kids to understand. Under the title, PLAY, LOUIS, PLAY, I had written "The Story of Satchmo Whose Heart Was in His Horn." And that explains everything.

I'll wrap up my interview with our inspiring octogenarian tomorrow.

Musing on Louis Armstrong -- An Interview with Muriel Weinstein

A few weeks ago, I reviewed a jazz picture book for Poetry Friday. When Louis Armstrong Taught Me Scat is a playful, rhyme-filled book, and a fun introduction to the music of Louis Armstrong for younger kids. The review is here.

I learned about the author, Muriel Weinstein, from a mutual poet friend (thanks, Shirley Brewer!) Shirley gushed about this poet and retired educator who, in her 80s, was starting a career as a successful children's author.

I had to speak with Muriel myself, so she's stopping by for the next few days to talk poetry, Jazz, late-life writing success and her muse, Louis Armstrong.

To whet your appetite, here is Satchmo playing "The Saints Go Marching In." Look for the Duke Ellington quote that opens the video clip.



Hi, Muriel. Congrats on your second book (PLAY, LOUIS, PLAY, published this month). What's your story? What led you to become a children's book author?

Hi, Laura! I've always written. As a kid, I remember creating my own magazine. I was the editor, the columnist, the interviewer and made up stories about everything from interviewing the milkman whose tin cart was pulled by a horse (his horse's hooves clopping on the gutter cement each morn awakened me) to interviewing imagined Hollywood stars. I even printed it myself.

Later, as a teacher, I loved the children's authors -- particularly Maurice Sendak. Even interviewed him and he sent me a note on how much he enjoyed the article. When teaching, I had stopped a lot of my own writing in favor of encouraging my students.

I think a lot of teachers who write have that experience.

Not till I retired did I start in earnest to write again. No longer motivating kids to write, I felt it was "my turn." Also, the arrival of grandchildren drove me to write stories for them.

Now I am writing full time. I have about a half dozen books in rough drafts. I can hear their voices shouting, "ME!!! ME!! take ME!! I'm NEXT!! Hurry! This drawer and file are like a PRISON."

What's it like to find publishing success as a senior senorita?

First, I must confess, I'm 87!! Cannot believe it. I look in the mirror and say, "That can't be me! I'm younger! Much younger!" What I'm really talking about is my spirit, my mental energy.

I love reading and selling and writing and am pumped up that I have my second book out (the chapter book bio, PLAY, LOUIS, PLAY) and can't wait for the third.

PLAY, LOUIS, PLAY is your second book featuring Louis Armstrong. How did he become your muse? What do you think makes him an interesting subject for kids to read?

I come from a home that was filled with music. Dad played the French horn, my brother -- the violin, Mom had a lovely alto and I played the piano. Neighbors would come in and we'd all join in together. That's was what led me to Louis. LOVED his voice and music. To me he was Cooool. While I played piano and loved music, I had a horrific voice. I sounded as if I were gargling!! That's why I really liked Louis A. A man whose voice was not as smooth as silk or who slid so meticulously into the various keys.

My first book WHEN LOUIS ARMSTRONG TAUGHT ME SCAT only deals with one aspect of Louis, his "scat," the musical skill of finding nonsense words that match in rhythm and mood to the song.  PLAY, LOUIS, PLAY had to be researched. I had to read a great deal and cull what kids would be interested in.

I didn't want to do more than his youth because he had such a difficult, such a rough time that -- to me -- he is a heroic character. Other kids would complain about not having running water or an outdoor toilet or no bathtub or electricity. But Louis was the kind of kid and adult who only saw the "good" things. I fell in love with him while doing research.

The book is a testament to his strength of  spirit, but it doesn't clobber the reader over the head with that "message."

The innate good in his character shines out. So many have difficulties and  think they'll never rise above them. Louis did and his hurdles were huge.

I also think that today's kids do not  have enough heroes and Louis was heroic. While some bad things happened to him, he rose above them and kept his eyes on his goal and he made it! I refer to such poverty that he didn't have shoes till he was in the orphanage. I refer to being picked up and taken away to a Colored Waifs Home.

But, as you show in PLAY, LOUIS, PLAY, Louis made the best of that situation. Your book shows him playing successfully with the Colored Waifs Home's band. Even as a child, Louis used a difficult experience to get closer to his goal of being a musician.

I'll post Part Two of my interview with the fabulous and spunky Miss Muriel tomorrow.

Here is one final holiday treat. It's Louis Armstrong reciting "The Night Before Christmas." Enjoy!