Robert Frost is a poet who influenced my generation, and certainly many generations. He was the poet who introduced me to poetry, when he recited a poem at the inauguration of President John F. Kennedy. I was in fourth grade, a voracious reader, but not a reader of poetry.
Grandma Peck had a book case of very old books on all topics. She had been a pharmacist, in 1916; she was the only female in a class of 100 men. Her books were heavy, and with very dry content in my nine-year old opinion. But, she pulled out some well worn books of poetry: Kipling, Wordsworth, Dickinson, and of course, Frost. It was as if she had lighted a fire under me, and I devoured the poetry.
Unfortunately, time and short-circuits have prevented my brain from pulling the words out of my brain on command. I can only remember bits, but they are flavorful bits. Thankfully, the computer can do the recalling for me, most of the time.
Frost wrote about walking in the woods on a fall day:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and
Whatever my age, and no matter how the next few years evolve, I will continue to thank Mr. Frost for the value of paths that “…diverge in a yellow wood…” and taking a path less traveled by. It has made all the difference.
Please check out the blogspot below; Arlee Bird and his crazy crew are hosting this A-Z blog, and you will want to see other entries. They are awesome!
http://tossingitout.blogspot.com
Please check out the blogspot below; Arlee Bird and his crazy crew are hosting this A-Z blog, and you will want to see other entries. They are awesome!
http://tossingitout.blogspot.com