jack and jackie

      I was in a bookstore last week and (as I am wont to do) wandered aimlessly till I found something interesting. Walking through the American History section, I came across a book called Letters to Jackie: Condolences from a Grieving Nation, by Ellen Fitzpatrick. As I read excerpts from letters sent to the First Lady after the President's death, I was surprised that I was so surprised to realize how connected people felt to JFK. I don't think there's anything now that would have the same effect on the whole country as JFK's assassination did - I think we've become...somewhat apathetic, desensitized by the media/constant connectedness etc., I don't know. 
     But since then, I've been thinking a lot about this couple. I even went onto youtube and watched the video of his assassination, which I regret now. I don't want to think about that part. I'd rather "remember" them as a couple in love.

   I just love this picture - it's one of the few pictures of the two being affectionate. These days people tend to believe they weren't really in love, but I don't believe that. I think it was just the time and circumstances in which they were raised - public displays of affection were not as tolerated as they are now, and especially not for the upper crusts of society. I think there's something to be said for that, too, in some ways. Saving kissing for when you're alone definitely makes it more powerful and special (though anyone who knows me knows that I take every opportunity to kiss my honey, wherever we may be, so do with that what you will).
    
     Here's another very sweet picture of these American royals. This is my favorite of them I think - it was taken when they were still dating. It is oh-so-sweet and playful, a more intimate portrait of them than if they had been kissing. The way she's looking directly into his eyes, and he's looking right back at her, their playful smiles. Also, Jackie is so beautiful here! Her short haircut is so pretty and sassy, and that dress is a dream (and Michelle Obama can eat her heart out on those arms). We're so lucky to have this picture of them.

I don't know if anyone reads this at all, but I am resolved to really be better about updating. I really WANT to write, so I'm working hard on being more steadfast and resolute. 


Thanks so much to jimmypage of the Kennedys tumblr page for these sweet pictures!

"Plenty to see and hear and feel yet."

      welcome, readers! i'm excited to be starting up blogging again, with less journalling and more personal education and exploration in mind. my basic idea for this blog (and who knows how this will change in the future) is to post anything i find beautiful/inspiring/curious (poetry, bits of prose, pictures, art, events from history, etc.) with a little bit of my own waxing on the subject.


     i've decided to kick things off right, with one of my favorite poems, Fern Hill, by Dylan Thomas. i love his mastery of the english language, the way he paints such a gorgeous and lyrical picture of a man looking back on his childhood. his use of indistinct phrasing gives me an almost dreamlike idea of what he's describing, as if i'm seeing its reflection in water, or through some sort of mist, but never a crisp image.
     this poem's language is so lush, you can almost taste it; it feels, in one way or another, like every summer of my life. the last two lines are especially (heart-achingly) beautiful.



Fern Hill
Dylan Thomas

Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs
About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green,
The night above the dingle starry,
Time let me hail and climb
Golden in the heydays of his eyes,
And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns
And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves
Trail with daisies and barley
Down the rivers of the windfall light.

And as I was green and carefree, famous among the barns
About the happy yard and singing as the farm was home,
In the sun that is young once only,
Time let me play and be
Golden in the mercy of his means,
And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman, the calves
Sang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear and
cold,
And the sabbath rang slowly
In the pebbles of the holy streams.

All the sun long it was running, it was lovely, the hay
Fields high as the house, the tunes from the chimneys, it was
air
And playing, lovely and watery
And fire green as grass.
And nightly under the simple stars
As I rode to sleep the owls were bearing the farm away,
All the moon long I heard, blessed among stables, the
nightjars
Flying with the ricks, and the horses
Flashing into the dark.

And then to awake, and the farm, like a wanderer white
With the dew, come back, the cock on his shoulder: it was all
Shining, it was Adam and maiden,
The sky gathered again
And the sun grew round that very day.
So it must have been after the birth of the simple light
In the first, spinning place, the spellbound horses walking
warm
Out of the whinnying green stable
On to the fields of praise.

And honoured among foxes and pheasants by the gay house
Under the new made clouds and happy as the heart was long,
In the sun born over and over,
I ran my heedless ways,
My wishes raced through the house high hay
And nothing I cared, at my sky blue trades, that time allows
In all his tuneful turning so few and such morning songs.
Before the children green and golden
Follow him out of grace.

Nothing I cared, in the lamb white days, that time would 

take me
Up to the swallow thronged loft by the shadow of my hand,
In the moon that is always rising,
Nor that riding to sleep
I should hear him fly with the high fields
And wake to the farm forever fled from the childless land.
Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means,
Time held me green and dying
Though I sang in my chains like the sea.