FEAR OF BLOGGING

As a poet and writer, still struggling in the woeful margins of our society, gathering the courage and mustering the time to participate on HARRIET has been challenging. Too, being born on the cusp of the first Baby Boom—a post-WWII generation that refuses to kowtow to Father Time, but many of whose intellectuals remain stubbornly recalcitrant in their embrace of cell phones and computers—has caused me to be more than skeptical as I’ve wrestled circumstances, trying to accomplish the task. Contemplative time, insisted upon by some of our finest bards, has always come at a premium in these quarters. When stymied, I hear my father’s Robesonlike commands: “Don’t think about it. Do it.” Or “Get a move on, Big Girl.” Or the softer proverbial tut-tut, “Rise and shine.” In humble quarters where money was eschewed over aesthetic values and love of one’s art, avocations and motivations are reexamined in haste and awe. When reading about the legalized white-collar theft of corporate billions, it’s tough not to feel bitter. The adage “changing the world” presumably for the better rings hollow, until names like Buddha, Martin Luther, Jeanne d’Arc, or Mahatma Gandhi fire in the synapses. But on this very American literary terrain, poets and writers are usually not religious leaders, and rarely become political leaders, if an occasional poetry lover becomes President. Forums online appear to have become a permanent way of progress, fostering the ongoing human dialogue in amazingly unanticipated ways. It has been a privilege to participate.