ONCE a week I get a one-word text from Mike Manley: Filed. Which is better, I suppose, than the most common two-word text flying around out there.
Filed means Mike has just filed a new week of Phantom art with King Features Syndicate. I was away on a solo home improvement chore when he filed last Sunday.
The conversation went like this:
Filed
In Vermont, in my shorts, sitting by the wood stove sipping Bailey’s Irish Cream and reading poetry. Don’t tell anybody.
Haha. Sounds nice.
Rode up Friday to finish up the joint compound and paint the place. I’m pretty much done, would like to get on the road home tomorrow. Supposed to rain buckets and be cold to boot… Been raining here for a day and half.
This was the weekend for the little gasoline stove, which will cook in a downpour. I mostly use an alcohol stove, hadn’t used this gasoline burner since the Arctic in 2019.
It still holds pressure, must have good o-rings in it.
It burns yellow and sooty at first, but then the heat vaporizes the gasoline in that tube on the burner and all of a sudden it’s not running on liquid fuel anymore but gas. The flame goes blue and burns hot.
The poetry thing was true. I was so heavy on gear this time I didn’t bring any books of my own. There was only one book in the place, poems by the late Mary Oliver. I read half of it.
I like this one called Drifting. I read it to the iron piggy from the window. She dug it.
I was traveling heavy because I tend to carry all my transcontinental gear even if I’m only planning to be out for a few days. You never know when the spirit might move, why ride home to collect all your stuff?
Besides all my camping gear, two bear cans full of food, I was carrying two gallons of paint, a paint tray, couple of paint rollers, roller covers, all the things you go through while painting.
My drywall tools were already up there. Had a half day’s work on drywall left to do, then got right onto the painting. It wasn’t a big finishing job, went through a little over 6 gallons of joint compound.
Here’s a poem about a dog…
And another dog poem I liked, despite that it goes on for two lines too long. Even good poets need editors…
The only reason I rode up there to paint is that Jonny hates painting while I merely dislike painting. Painting may be my least favorite thing but I don’t suffer through it the way Jonny does. I get my Zen on, and, as Mike Manley would say, the work gets filed.
The kids are on the road to Vermont as we speak, I believe. Not to work on the place this time, just hang out, do some hiking, maybe head over to the lake, that sort of weekend. It’ll be Jenna and Jonny and Daughter #3 and her boyfriend Mark.
Oh, and Jenna and Jonny’s dog, Linus, who fears me, and is much like the poet’s dog, Benjamin, in that his old life haunts the new.
Linus is a rescue dog from Louisiana. Somebody who looks or sounds or smells like me didn’t treat him very well. When Linus sees me he snarls in mortal fear and runs away, minus the contents of his bladder and bowels.
Here I am back home Monday afternoon, unburdening the iron piggy. We got rained on pretty hard in Vermont and New Hampshire on the way in.
Everything’s a lot greener in Rhode Island than in Vermont.
Our tulip poplars are leafing out.
I snapped this one in Vermont that same morning. The beech trees have barely budded.
Little D1D2 might be the green-thumb type. Here she is helping her Mimi to pot a few hanging plants for the front porch.
That’s about it, just regular life.
Have a wonderful weekend, all.
Tony DePaul, April 28, 2023, Cranston, Rhode Island, USA
Tony–
Glad you made it home in one piece. It certainly did pour up here last weekend. Pouring here now, in point of fact. Would have made for a tough ride back down south for sure.
The apple trees in the side yard have budded out but the leaves aren’t open yet. It’s been a bit chilly up here the past few weeks, especially at night.
If you ever need a respite from the road, the light over the barn door is always on for you…..
Thanks, Linnea. Will see you soon, I’m sure.
I didn’t hear from the kids on the day just ended but I’ll bet it was a slow road home to RI. We had intermittent downpours all day. Good day to build a fire in the woodstove and do pretty much nothing: read a little, write a little, snooze a little…
Tony:
The second poem, “Benjamin, who came from….” is a gem. In the opening lines she vividly describes the state of her rescue dog as communicated by the state of the dog’s body. She leaves the bridge to humans to the last, where it is very effective: “Don’t worry, I also know how the old life affects the new.”
Very effective.
I hope that Mike Manley is doing well—sounds busy! His blog has been quiet for some time now, holds great stories about his time at PAFA pursuing a painting certificate as an established cartoonist.
Hey, Robert. I probably ought to read more poetry than I do. Did happen to read, just this past winter, Terry Eagleton’s How to Read a Poem.
He had in mind more difficult material than Mary Oliver’s. In the preface, he suggests that some readers might want to start in the middle of the book, then if the second half goes well, go back for the more theoretical first half.
Mike is busy, indeed. He keeps a young man’s pace. Banging out two daily strips a week for starters, add the Sunday on Judge Parker, commissions, podcasts, his fine art, the stuff of everyday living…
Great piece Tony! If you are passing through Franconia, give a yell. Always cup of Tea/coffee available. Ride safe.
Thanks. Will do, Duncan.
Another solid blab. Thanks. Tybee is calling.
Tybee was fun. Nine years ago, now. Time sure is zippy…
I still read all your updates Tony. Had to comment about this. Well stated. Thanks. Cheers! Todd@Cogent
We humans certainly are strange beings.
Reply
Tony says:
April 28, 2023 at 4:47 pm
We are, indeed. In another context, that barking at perceived threats while facing the wrong direction could be the human story in a nutshell, Jim!
Hey! Many thanks for following the scribble, Todd. Believe it or not my new Cogent suspension is actually going to get on the road this season! It sat idle through the chemo, then the pandemic, now it’s finally time to get back out there. A proper suspension fore & aft will make the DR650 a whole new ride, I’m sure.
I can’t believe I rode that thing bone stock across Labrador, up the Dempster to Tuktoyaktuk, up the Haul Road to Prudhoe Bay… that was just nuts and so unnecessary 🙂
My condolences about Vermont’s “spring” weather. I grew up in Vermont and will never feel completely warm. Miserable at this time of year, and that’s without getting into the mud issues. Good dog poems and stories. Glad you’re back in Rhody and that the stove didn’t blow up.
Thanks for reading, Brian. I’m told that Vermont springs have gotten wetter in recent decades and it’s encouraging some kind of blight in the white pines. And this is interesting: there are no mature white pines on the kids’ land, healthy or otherwise (it’s mostly hardwoods and some fir) but white pine seedlings are common. I wonder if there’s some self-preservation thing going on with the species. I’ll have to read up on it.
Your relationship with Linus reminds me of a rescue dog we had. She seemed to fear men in general, but had a special fear of me and I swear I never did a thing to deserve it. Every night for years and years, when I arrived home from work she barked at me like I was hell spawn. And she was a pretty big dog, too. She barked at me so vigorously that on more than one occasion she shot poop across the room. She did not like for me to crawl in bed with my wife and told me so with enthusiasm. Luckily, she never bit me. Well, not hard anyhow. Despite all this, during thunderstorms I was her best bud. She went blind in her old age and mellowed out quite a bit. She would still bark at perceived threats, but didn’t necessarily face the right direction. When she died, I grieved like I have for any of our other dogs. We humans certainly are strange beings.
We are, indeed. In another context, that barking at perceived threats while facing the wrong direction could be the human story in a nutshell, Jim!
Excellent point!
Love the photography, the poetry, and the Baileys. And the job the GWW is doing of liberating the oppressed (and Mike’s contribution to it).
Mike and Jeff and banging away on all cylinders. It’s such a pleasure to work with talent like that.
Thanks for the good word on the liberation of Gravelines, Stephen. I’m told that teachers around the world have the April 26 strip up on their bulletin boards 🙂