THE BEAT (AND BEATING, IF BROKEN HEARTS) GOES ON…AND ON…AND ON……..

On the car radio on this Saturday–it must have been request hour for souls with unmended broken hearts, driving or sequestered in their Tampa Bay bungalos, eager to spread their longing and long memories over the airwave of local 88.5 FM community radio…

No one in the songs they were requesting were asking much — just…stay around….please?

Dusty Springfield sang:…You don’t have to say you love me, just be close at hand….believe me, I’ll never tie you down….

The Foundations lead vocalist Hubert Montgomery sang:… baby, now that I’ve found you, I can’t let you go
I’ll build my world around you, I need you so…even though I know you don’t need me
You don’t need me…( in fact she told him) you wanna leave me…

It were as if a profane benediction were heralding “the world’s swift passage to the fire” in the words of the obscure decadent poet (Ernest Dowson – 1867-1900) who himself endured a tragic love affair and gave us, along with Hollywood, Johnny Mercer, Henry Mancini, Jack Lemmon and Lee Remick a phrase from a poem with a name borrowed from the poet Horace “Vitae summa brevis spem nos vetat incohare longam” (Latin for “The brief sum of life forbids us the hope of enduring long) and which reads…

They are not long, the days of wine and roses: Out of a misty dream

Our path emerges for a while, then closes

Within a dream. 

Somewhere else, Mr. Dowson asks…

When shall men cease to suffer and desire?

And as Cher must still be singing somewhere….the beat goes on….”


THUNDER

…as the hour creeps past 9:30 toward 10 a.m., August 25, 2026

Rolling, distant thunder. Distant, yet the house seems to shudder slightly from it.

And though it be threatening, I welcome this familiar little episode of nature at Florida summer’s end–and the view out my office window of mingled blue, white and gray almost comforts me. The silent street gray, the sky still blue, the tall Florida clouds distant –and now the sun has come out.

So much processing, mixing in undoubtely dank heat out there in the small world external to my air conditioned ennui; it enters; penetrates my anxious internal world like blending liquids. Yet I am dry. Parched, even.

This Tuesday will flow on and away. Water down rocks.

Pray for peace. Pray for everything.

The thunder is gone. Silence.

AUGUST ELEGY

August is known for one of the most spectacular planetary alignments of the year, along with other notable conjunctions and lunar events, including the “six planet parade”.
From August 10 to dawn on August 13, six planets — Mercury, Venus, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune — will appear in the dawn sky along the eastern horizon. Venus and Jupiter will have a spectacular conjunction on August 12, appearing almost together in the sky, easily visible to the naked eye.

Mercury, Venus, Jupiter, and Saturn will be visible without optical aid; Uranus and Neptune require binoculars or a small telescope. Mars does not join this alignment in August, but the Full Sturgeon Moon will be present during the alignment, adding brightness to the scene.

Why then, can I only entertain childhood thoughts, on an August Sunday, of sad Monday sailboats leaving a rocky cove in sultry heat on a final outbound tack, and emptying piers on sad, quiet lakes? Or of another summer going away — and humanity’s parade back into gray buildings to labor and study (as we must)?

I must look up to dawn along the eastern horizon and up into the night sky.

And, once again, at August’s absolute end –Labor Day, circa 1960 — I recall the late Joe O’Donnell and I climbing the main Blue Hill for well over an hour on our bikes until suddenly we felt momenum grabbing Joe’s lead bike, then mine, and we went cruising gently for perhaps only a short time –but it felt like a good long rewarding spell — around twisting forest corners without automobiles and down to flat land, and Joe saying to me at the end of the run something like, “that was a great ride, wasn’t it?”

I saw Joe only very periodically in subsequent years — maybe at the subway station, coming from our respective high schools, waiting for the Neponset bus –until the day (at another funeral) that his younger brother told me he had died a few months before. He would have been in his fifties.

Again, my thoughts must be of the horizon, of the infinity of the night sky, of life. Memories are fine, but on our planet, we must stay in the present moment.

The beautiful hill, the horizon, the sky….the present moment on Planet Earth.

VOYAGE

Sixty years ago today, in Rotterdam, the Netherlands, I boarded the S.S. Groote Beer, a Greek-owned, Dutch registered, Italian-crewed former Victory Ship, Dutch Immigrant ship and cruise ship-turned-student ship offering cheap transport and assorted student-style activities for about two hundred young passengers and assorted older passengers seeking the same cheap transport (including a German barber emigrating to Cleveland) back to America. She was destined to dock (as I recall) along the North River section of the Brooklyn waterfront after nine days. Since June 17th, after landing in Antwerp aboard a Norwegian freighter, I had been wandering the Continent…Paris, Barcelona, Nice, Rome, Florience, Venice, Munich, Amsterdam…Rotterdam…..

Many memories from those weeks — and from those nine days at sea.

Sometime I’ll share some of them. (I already have shared parts of the voyage over and arrival).

But now, I just wanted to summon all the drifting, shadowy feelings of Le Temp Perdu

On this dank Florida evening as darkness falls….