Hello Again

Daffodils sway bright,

Sunshine's kin on emerald stage,

Nature's graceful dance.

Hello Again . . .

You remember that movie don’t you--”Hello Again”? It starred Shelley Long and her character had died because she choked on something . . . and was brought back to life through a spell cast by her wacky sister—so says IMDB (Internet Movie Database.)

Well, right about now I rue the fact that I am an only child and would welcome a “wacky sister.” You see, it is winter and winter always gets me down—especially this one. I have pondered going out and starting work on my ark due to the rainfall we have had recently. AND, even here in Atlanta, known for its fairly decent winters—it is rating a big fat zero with me.

It is true that right now the weather forecast has changed to mostly sunny and cool. But I’m not falling for the “banana in the tailpipe routine” as quipped by Eddie Murphy in Beverly Hills Cop. (Two plain clothes types are tailing him and while they are parked he simply sneaks behind them, puts a banana in the tailpipe and voilá, they are immobilized and he’s free of their constant tailing.) I guess I could also add that the Groundhog has not spoken yet, so the jury is out for me.

Well, while I am lulled into a false sense of security by this deceptive break in what was a cold, wet week—I pray for an early spring.

You see, winter just hasn’t gone as planned. Christmas came 2 weeks late for me and my family, the culprit being “the flu.” (Or whatever new bug is out there waiting to pounce upon us all.) Yep, I got a call on Christmas Eve, cancelling Christmas. But, I had to buck up and just take it and remind myself that “Christmas delayed” was not that bad a gig. We would still gather at some point and I would have my beloved peeps around me.

Then the rain started--I think even Noah could commiserate with us somewhat. And I went to get my mail on a cold, wet day and got a chill. Not to worry, I cured myself with Vitamin C and chicken soup!

Then I remembered that between getting ready for a late Christmas, and the pall of winter, I had not posted any blog entries for eons. Guilt was added to depression.

So I have been sitting around crying in my beer, and then feeling guilty for it. But I remembered a poem, a happy poem and I sought it out. It’s titled “I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud,” by William Wordsworth. I recalled at a bad spot in my life when I used it to test my senses once. Maybe my present funk demanded just such a test. Maybe I have even quoted it before, but it bears repeating.

I was about 24, and I had just had my first grand mal seizure-- and in the process dislocated my jaw. I found myself on a gurney in the emergency room, and heard my mother crying in the hall, declaring softly that she thought I had had a stroke. Well, it can get worse than that in life, but at this juncture this was low enough for me.

I can still recall vividly what my thought process was. I started going through a litany of things I should know. As my jaw was on the other side of the room, I could not speak. I mentally recited my name, address and social security number. But I thought that might be too easy—what would be a real test? College was only a few years behind and I was an English major—I should recite a poem. But to make sure I was “all there” I chose one I had learned in high school – here it is:

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

By William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

Well, that did it—snapped me right out of my worry—I was okay, I could remember, I could recite a poem from long ago. All was well. I did get a tentative diagnosis back then, it was epilepsy and in the years that followed I have had more seizures, but I’m still here. . . another thing that perks me up greatly.

So, a poem snapped me out of it then and again today. I am okay, I have life, and thought and memory. Does it get any better? I should be ashamed because there are many in far worse situations. I had a talk with myself, let my inner Dutch uncle speak to me and make me snap to! Suddenly the sun shone brighter and the cold could be vanquished with a cup of tea. So, I will make it to spring, I will live through winter. I just needed a reminder to breathe, and remember that as Emily Dickinson said,

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -

If you want to read that entire poem you will find it below. In the meantime, buck up, buddy . . . spring is coming—there will be sun, and sweet breezes and the laughter of children, and . . . daffodils.

--------

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/42889/hope-is-the-thing-with-feathers-314