Gusewelle, continued

If you haven't read part one of this story, you'll find it HERE.


Back in 1992, Gusewelle went traveling, so his column wasn't in the paper for quite a while.... or maybe they reran some of his older columns, I don't know for sure.  It's been a long time.  What I do know is that I missed him, and when he finally returned and his usual column showed up in the paper, I was very happy.  Now, back then we were having some tough economic times; Cliff had lost a good job and we were struggling to make ends meet.  To keep my mind off my troubles, I began making up poems.  I wrote poems about my grandchildren, about my chickens, about the Sunday sermons at church.  (Some of them were incredibly lousy, by the way, but it gave me something to do.)  
So I decided to welcome Gusewelle back with a poem, and here's what I wrote:  


I write a poem every day; it helps me mark the time.
I take my daily happenings and put them into rhyme:
A verse for each occasion, like the birthday of a friend,
A tribute to a loved one, at his mortal journey's end,
Or, just to say "I love you" to a daughter or a son.
If there's a poem in it, you can bet I've written one!
Poems for my dairy cows, and poems for my pets ---
When something's down on paper, it's a thing I won't forget.
Today, Gusewelle, the poem's yours; it's just to let you know
That I like what you're doing, and I want to tell you so.
You've given me some insights that I never will forget
On growing pains and bird dogs, fat cats and cigarettes.
From your farm in Missouri to far distant, foreign shores
I've read each golden word you wrote, and only wanted more.
We don't agree on things, but I can say without regret
That I consider you a friend, although we've never met.


A couple of days later I received this:

Over the next two or three years I sent a couple more homemade poems to Gusewelle, and I always received a brief note acknowledging it.  
One winter he started out his column "Tap tap tap... Is anybody there?" as though nobody was reading his words in the January cold.  I answered with the following:

To Gusewelle, from Prison

(Tap, tap tap)  We hear you tapping;

(Tap tap tap)  We know you're there. 

Some of us were only napping.  

January's hard to bear.  

I keep busy with my cattle.

They must be milked twice a day.

Keeping busy's half the battle.  

Sometimes it's the only way. 

On my brand new word processor,

Every day I write a rhyme.

Winter is a cruel oppressor,

But I somehow pass the time.  

Now I babysit a child

Whose mother hasn't finished school.

Kody has me quite beguiled

And I enjoy him as a rule.  

Prisons aren't formed by walls

And iron bars don't make a cage.

January always galls.

You're only going through a stage.  

Keep in mind that we were still having a rough time financially, and I was talking to myself in the verses as much as to Charles.  

Another time he wrote in his column about the day when he began working from home rather than driving to work.  I wish I'd kept the articles that inspired the various poems, but alas I did not.  I remember he mentioned the five-dollar chair he had there at home, and I thought, "I want that chair!"  I asked him in rhyme to leave it to me in his will.  This one is my favorite.    

To C.W. Gusewelle

Greetings to you, my old friend:

It's good to have you back again!

The K.C. Star seems dry and bleak

Without your column thrice a week.

Your office now is in your home:

Your desk, your lamp, your telephone.

Well, I want something you have there;

When you pass on, I want your chair!

I'll pay your wife the price you gave

When you lie mould'ring in the grave.

If it will hold my broad derriere,

I'd really like to have that chair.

I'm sure the old thing reeks of smoke,

But even so --- this is no joke!---

Don't vacuum off the feline hair,

Just ship me your old, faithful chair.

Five dollars doesn't seem too high;

It's what I'd call a real buy!

Perhaps the muse that met you there

Will visit me, in that old chair.

Some day, when you have time to kill

Add one brief post script to your will:

Give to your wife her proper share,

But leave me that five-dollar chair!

He always sent a brief note acknowledging my efforts.  It brightened my spirits every time.  

So yes, I'd like to see and hear the guy in person.  I doubt if he even remembers my silly poems, and it doesn't matter.  It's all about my memories of somebody who took the time to acknowledge that I was alive.      

Gusewelle

Even when I was a teenager, I considered the Kansas City Star-Times a necessity.  My parents sometimes subscribed, but they were both working and didn't have a lot of time to read the paper.  I think they took it for me, because I always looked forward to its arrival twice a day.  I liked Dear Abby and Ann Landers, and I enjoyed reading details of the local news.  I still remember seeing pictures of the devastation after the Ruskin Heights tornado in 1957.  I took the Times to school the next morning to share with others.  
At some point along the way, I discovered Charles Gusewelle's columns.  I think they were originally featured three times a week; I eagerly anticipated those days.  When the Kansas City Star banned smoking inside the building, Gusewelle was interviewed by TV reporters at his desk outside the building.  He'd had it moved outside as sort of a protest against the new rule.
As a regular reader of his writings, I knew lots of things about C.W.  He had a bird dog named Rufus; he had more cats than you are supposed to have if you live in Kansas City.  Sometimes he'd talk about his wife and his two daughters.  Now that I think about it, it was just like reading a blog, only it was in the newspaper.  No wonder I enjoy reading blogs.    
Around 1990, Cliff lost his good job and we had to cut corners.  We got rid of cable TV and the Kansas City Star, among other things.  Anything we could live without, we got rid of.  When Cliff went to work in 1993 at the job he retired from, he worked on the night shift; somebody took the Star to work and left it in the lunch room every day, and Cliff, knowing how I missed the Star, would bring it home to me.  By that time of night everybody else was done with it anyhow.  
It sure was good to be reading Gusewelle again.  
We no longer subscribe to the newspaper, but I read Gusewelle's columns online sometimes.  
Every once in awhile the local PBS station runs a special with C.W. narrating.  Recently they broadcast a program where he was reading some of his writings in front of an audience, and I thought how nice it would be to sit in such an audience and laugh along with them at his humor.  
And now he is coming to my little town.  It's a fundraiser the Lion's Club is putting on to raise money for  a scholarship they sponsor.  The only thing is, I'm not sure just how "formal" this thing is.  There are a couple of phone numbers listed in the article online, so I guess I'll call and find out.  As long as it's casual, we're in.  I'm so excited!  I may finally get to see and hear Gusewelle in person!


(to be continued)

tap tap tap... is anybody out there?

I've obviously been uninspired lately. The temperatures have been frigid, and what is there to do this time of year that's really blog-worthy? I used to get the winter blues; these days, it's more like the winter blahs. I'm not depressed, but I can't really get excited about, or interested in, much of anything.

Cliff and I haven't missed our walks this week, even though it was only ten degrees when we went out, two of the days. Carharts are a wonderful thing: May God bless the soul of whoever invented them. I'll admit they aren't a fashion statement, but they'll keep you warm in any weather.

One day we walked down a steep hill to the back of our place, to the lowest valley, and watched an owl swoop over us on silent wings, land on a branch in a high tree, and turn around to look us over before flying on his merry way. We've seen hoards of geese flying, I'd venture to say thousands. Isn't it a little late for them to fly south?

I enjoy checking out animal tracks in the snow, although Sadie pretty much wipes those out as she circles wildly around us, enjoying her freedom.

So you can surely understand my hesitancy to blog when the most exciting thing going on in my life is a walk in the woods with my husband and my dog.

Oh, as to the title of this entry: Years ago a Kansas City columnist, C.W. Gusewelle, wrote a column in the depth of winter that started out "tap tap tap" and was followed by, "Is anyone there?" He made me realize that I'm not the only person feeling isolated at that time of year when Christmas is over and spring is far away.

I wrote a poem in answer to his column and sent it to him, and he wrote a reply. Mr. Gusewelle never failed to answer any letter I sent him, which impressed me greatly. I'm sure he must get lots of mail, and I'll bet he answers every single piece.

So there you have it, my meandering for today. I just realized it's been awhile since I've read C.W. Gusewelle's columns, so I'd best go catch up. You can even hear him read his prose HERE.