Three decades ago on this date--I was 20, working in the toy department of Big K ("Your King of Values, the place you save day after day"), when I heard over the intercom that Elvis had died. The woman in Cameras was so upset she took a sick day. I didn't cry. Since I wore approximately the same eye makeup as the loris above (in the same hues), that was probably a good thing.
Two decades ago, I was 30, newly married to Harvey, and went to at the MSU faculty reunion for all creative writers. I was grieving my twenties were over, exacerbated by the loss of my creative writing teacher, who'd skipped town for California. I did hear J. Graham refer to herself as the "Imelda Marcos" of poetry. The context was shoes, not foetry.com. I'd reduced my eye makeup to mascara only. I decided to stay out of school for a semester, and I didn't write a poem for 15 years. Slow loris, indeed.
One decade ago ago, I was 40, and after 2-1/2 hours of precipitous labor my beautiful daughter Raleigh Elizabeth was born. She rolled over that very day in the nursery. My pediatrician couldn't believe it. Harvey and I both cried in exhilaration at her arrival, but fortunately by then I had discovered waterproof mascara. The circles under my eyes were soon to be due to nature, not nurture or artifice, as Raleigh didn't sleep through the night until 2004.
Today, my daughter's 10, and I have just drafted my thirtieth poem in two years. I can't believe how much my life has changed since I went back to school. I'm still a slow loris at times, but at least I'm moving forward. Fifty's not so bad, and I'm writing a tabloid poem entitled "Elvis Clone Escapes and Runs Amok in Memphis."
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