Poetry Friday: Leaving Home, Part 3

Before you do anything else, Dear Readers, go check out this First Chapters Critique Giveaway. 

Linda Baie is hosting today at Teacher Dance!

As the mom of a new college student, I keep finding poems that speak to parent-child relationships, especially the moment of leaving home.

This week, I was reading A BRIEF HISTORY OF MAIL, by Lisa Vihos. I picked up her chapbook at the 100 Thousand Poets for Change World Conference in Italy this summer. Lisa and I had been Facebook friends for a few years, but met for the first time in Salerno, greeting one another with a warm hug.

Lisa Vihos

Lisa is a fine poet, educator, and community organizer. So much about the poem I am sharing today speaks to me: the olives, memories of Italy, and how we create experiences for our children, never knowing how or when they might draw on these memories as they grow into adulthood.

Planting a Memory (for Owen)

by Lisa Vihos

I make us a lunch

for the train ride from Chicago to Milwaukee.

Granted, it’s a short ride

but it’s lunchtime and we’ll want to eat.

I pack salami, bagels, tangerines,

and a small bag of kalamata olives.

I want you to know this simple pleasure:

olives on the train. How delicious

they taste as we speed past houses and fields.

Olives run in our family, you know.

Our own special comfort food,

tumbling down the Greek

and Italian branches of our family tree;

little dark nuggets of love.

Someday, you’ll be in Tuscany

wanting to impress a girl.

It’s important that you learn

this sense memory now

so that when you’re standing in the market

outside the train station

you will not hesitate

to buy good olives for her.

You won’t even know why you do this,

but she’ll love you all the more

for spending a little bit extra

on something that tastes so good.

And when you are rushing together

past the lush green fields

and crumbling stone walls

of your Tuscan future,

bite into the rich, dark meat

feel slick oil on your fingers

lick salt from your lips and smile.

In her olive black eyes, there is warmth

and a beckoning road like a train track

vanishing into the distance

connecting you to something

(or someone) that loved you.

Lisa was kind enough to tell me about the genesis of this poem:

I really did pack a lunch for me and my son, to nourish us on a train ride from Chicago to Milwaukee. He was nine years old at the time. While I was on the train, I started thinking about how little things like olives could make a subconscious impression on the mind of a child and I started to write the poem while we were cruising along. He is seventeen now, and I when I read the poem, I still remember exactly what it was like to think about him at some future time, remembering olives on the train with his mother. 

Lisa Vihos is the Poetry and Arts Editor at Stoneboat Literary Journal and an occasional guest blogger for The Best American Poetry. Along with two chapbooks, A Brief History of Mail (Pebblebrook Press, 2011) and The Accidental Present (Finishing Line Press, 2012), her poems have appeared in numerous print and online journals. She has two Pushcart Prize nominations and received first place recognition in the 2015 Wisconsin People and Ideas poetry contest for her poem, "Lesson at the Checkpoint." She is active in the 100 Thousand Poets for Change global movement and recently returned home from the group's first world conference in Salerno, Italy. Visit her blog at Frying the Onion. 

For a companion poem (more olives! more travel!) check out Poetry Friday blogger Joyce Ray's "In Search of Athena" here: http://joyceray.blogspot.com/2015/07/of-athena-greece-and-olives.html

A BRIEF HISTORY OF MAIL is available for purchase from Pebblebrook Press. If you are interested in buying one, please follow the link or mention it in your comments.

In this series:

Leaving Home (Poem by Linda Pastan)
Leaving Home, Part 2 (Poem by Sharon Olds)

30 Habits of Highly Effective Poets #9: Lisa Vihos on Practicing

I "met" poet Lisa Vihos through 100 Thousand Poets for Change, a global poetry initiative begun by Michael Rothenberg. You can read my interview with Michael here.

A 2011 100 TPC poster.

Lisa was enthusiastic about sharing her story -- how a long period of regular writing practice eventually paid off for her -- because it's so encouraging. If you believe in Malcolm Gladwell's theory that it takes 10,000 hours of practice before one achieves mastery in a skill or art form, Lisa's writing habit makes sense.

The 10,000 hours theory appears in Gladwell's book Outliers.

I "tested" the 10,000 hour theory on my own writing life. Although I don't have an official log of hours spent writing, I guess-timated how much time I spent writing each year, from the time I finished graduate school to the time my first book came out. It's right around Gladwell's mark.

Here is Lisa: Prepare and Set Aside

For many years, I danced around my poetry, trying various literary avenues: children’s book writing, art writing, short story writing, journaling. Nothing blossomed and whenever I met a published writer, I broke out in an envious sweat. I was troubled.

Then, something like a small miracle occurred. After participation in a workshop with poet Philip Dacey at the 2007 Great Lakes Writers Festival at Lakeland College, I felt as though a faucet had opened up in my head. Poems started to pour out. I knew I needed a goal to sustain the flow. In January 2008, I determined to write a poem every week and email it to a small circle of family and friends. I did not expect commentary, just eyes and minds to engage in the work. One friend asked, “do you really think you can write a new poem every week?” I had no idea. But, I had to try.

Eventually, my distribution list grew to over 200 people. I never missed a deadline in three years and three months of Sundays. Not every poem was stellar, but most of the poems were pretty good, and certain people always let me know when something touched, tickled, or confused them. One of my readers is a widely published poet who eventually suggested that I cut back my frequency in order to better hone my craft. I liked this idea, and in March 2011, I started to send a poem only on the first of the month. I think about potential poems all month long, but I often don’t start writing until just before my deadline. I’ve always worked best under pressure.

In her April 1st blog post, Laura shared a recipe for an inspiring green tea shake that involved organic pecans being prepared the night before and then set aside. Likewise, a poem (or even a whole lifetime of poetry?) benefits from being left to marinate. But don’t put it on hold forever. Return with fresh eyes as soon as you can and write more. If I learned anything in my three-year apprenticeship, it was to develop a practice of mind and to think as a poet. To collect details, connections, snippets; to steep them, savor them, and eventually turn them into poems.

My favorite Poem of the Week comment came from a neighbor who said, “Thank you for your dedication. You have inspired me to revisit my songwriting.” A comment like that makes my heart sing. That is what poetry is for, in my opinion: to move and inspire, to point out that which would otherwise go unnoticed. On that note, I’d like to share the poem with which Poem of the Week began on a winter day in 2008.

Advice from the Snow

by Lisa Vihos

When you fall, fall as I do

soft as feathers or a baby’s sleep.

With a light hand, spread an ocean of diamonds.

Make no sound as you blanket the earth.

Reflect light back upon the looker

orange and pink at morning, deep mauve at dusk.

Simply by your presence, round out flat places

and outline beauty that otherwise goes unnoticed.

And when I call you, do not be afraid to lie down

to bring forth an angel; an image of you in me.

How successful has Lisa been since her three year weekly-poem project? "Advice from the Snow" was published in the 2011 Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets poetry calendar. Lisa’s poems have also appeared in Big Muddy, Goose River Anthology, Lakefire, Red Cedar, Seems, Verse Wisconsin, and Wisconsin People and Ideas. She has one Pushcart Prize nomination and one chapbook, A Brief History of Mail (Pebblebrook Press, 2011). Her second chapbook, The Accidental Present is due from Finishing Line Press in June of this year.

Tomorrow is Tuesday. Stop by each Tuesday during National Poetry Month for a prompt related to writing habits.