In 1968, I spent an unforgettable summer studying at Oxford. It was the first time I had ever traveled to Europe, and I made the most of it: attending classes at the University, hopping the train to London for shopping, galleries & the theater, exploring Paris, Amsterdam, Bruges, Cologne, Trier. It was quite an adventure for a relatively sheltered, small town girl.
Our seminar was entitled "Uses of Imagery" and it included lectures on 17th and 18th century English Verse and an in-depth study of King Lear. We were registered as temporary readers at the Bodleian Library and had tutorials with our course instructors.
While cleaning out a storage loft this weekend, I discovered my notebook, still legible after 40 years. What caught my eye was not the pages of neatly written lecture summaries, but rather the poem I had composed to describe my fellow students. Where they are now, I wonder, and how have their lives played out?
The Seekers
Betsey
Memories of Indiana
Served with tea and scones.
Upon arrival home - Chicago
Doug
Roman ruins
And Wren churches
But not people
Janet
Certainty.
Unaware
Of the secret rebellion:
"You are not our dream."
Martha
Plantation daughter
Charmingly ignorant
Amazed by the existence
Of other traditions
Mary
The future teacher
Awaits a chance
To remember.
Mark
The world through
A wine bottle
Monochromatic
Polly
Flirtation
Could not ease
The pain
Of questions
Left unanswered
Sophie
Can money
Buy understanding?
Wyman
Some desire darkness
And in
Not being tragic,
Are.
Betsey
Memories of Indiana
Served with tea and scones.
Upon arrival home - Chicago
Doug
Roman ruins
And Wren churches
But not people
Janet
Certainty.
Unaware
Of the secret rebellion:
"You are not our dream."
Martha
Plantation daughter
Charmingly ignorant
Amazed by the existence
Of other traditions
Mary
The future teacher
Awaits a chance
To remember.
Mark
The world through
A wine bottle
Monochromatic
Polly
Flirtation
Could not ease
The pain
Of questions
Left unanswered
Sophie
Can money
Buy understanding?
Wyman
Some desire darkness
And in
Not being tragic,
Are.
I wonder what they wrote about me?
"Oxford panorama" by Olly Boyo
2 comments:
I hope Polly sees this.
I want to meet Polly, a lot.
Would thoughts on a hard drive have lasted as long? I won't live long enough to know.
Maybe you have met Polly and don't realize it ;-)
I also wonder about the durability of the trivia of our lives. An image of a book or fabric lacks tactile satisfaction.
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