Lost Weekend

lostwkmilland

Yeah, no posts this past weekend in Paradelle. A lost weekend.

Not a lost weekend like in the novel by Charles R. Jackson that was turned into the better known 1945 film, The Lost Weekend, directed by Billy Wilder and starring Ray Milland.

I didn’t spend the weekend in a drunken state. Maybe that would have been an improvement.

In the novel, the protagonist is on a five-day alcoholic binge. He’s also a would-be writer (he uses foreign phrases and Shakespeare quotes, so he must be). A famous scene (parodied in The Simpsons) is when he tries to pawn his typewriter for drinking money.

I was on a seven-day work binge. Just too much to do last week after a week’s vacation. Do you find that whatever recharge you do get from some time off drains much too quickly when you return to work? It must be my human battery, because the charge seems to be shorter every time.

I was a week without the Internet and did not feel any withdrawal symptoms. I had queued up 15 blog posts on different blogs that I do, so that things would appear “normal”  for the week. That worked. But writing anything last week was painful.

This week, this month, doesn’t seem too much better.

But here I am drinking my morning coffee and typing, trying to write a post before I head out to teach a class and then head to my office to work on a big report that’s due in a week, try to prepare two presentations for conferences this month and do my day-to-day work. Hopefully, I get to finish this post sometime today…

And that’s just work. What about home and family? Spent a chunk of the weekend helping my mom deal with all that being 92 means. (I dread getting old.)

And I ‘d rather be walking a beach, or even working in the yard clearing out the frost-zapped vegetable garden, raking and mulching leaves. But no time for any of that.

I wrote a post here called “Getting Lost” back in July and since then it has consistently been in the top 3 read posts on this blog. I don’t know if it’s the title, the book that inspired it or my tales of feeling lost literally and figuratively. Something connected with readers.

I wrote another post as a kind of answer to that post and I called it “Getting Found: The Tracker” which was ostensibly about the well-known tracker from New Jersey, Tom Brown. Still, that post was also about “finding yourself” – which you can do with a compass, but you can also do by wandering aimlessly in the woods.

Now, it’s an weekday evening in Paradelle and I shouldn’t be writing on this blog. Not because there’s any law against it (I do post full moon posts during the week already), but because I have so many other “more important” things to do.

More important. There’s the rub. Is my homework for my classes and bill paying more important than writing? Yeah, I guess so. If I don’t do those things, bad things will result and my life will worsen. If I don’t write on my blogs… nothing good OR bad happens. My butterfly flutters it wings.

If only I didn’t so much enjoy writing online. So much so, that I would sell my laptop in order to be able to write on it.

lostwkfilm

Fat Wallet Syndrome

Nerves of the right lower extremity Posterior view from Gray's Anatomy (not the TV show but the book)

Nerves of the right lower extremity Posterior view from Gray's Anatomy (not the TV show but the book) via Wikimedia Commons

Fat wallet syndrome. It’s not an economic condition. I didn’t even know it was a condition until I was listening to an interview on Fresh Air with author Michael Chabon and he mentioned it.

Piriformis syndrome is a neuromuscular disorder that occurs when the sciatic nerve is compressed or otherwise irritated by the piriformis muscle causing pain, tingling and numbness in the buttocks and along the path of the sciatic nerve descending down the lower thigh and into the leg.

A numb ass.

And it plagues men more than women. [pause for laughter]

You can do a search on the syndrome and find lots of information, but I’ll give you the short version. I think I am suffering from it myself.

Overuse injury is often the cause. I wish I could say that for me it comes from activities performed in the sitting position that involves strenuous use of the legs as in rowing/sculling and bicycling. This gluteal pain sometimes radiates down your butt and down your leg.

But, piriformis syndrome is also known as “wallet sciatica” or “fat wallet syndrome,” as the condition can be caused or aggravated by sitting with a large wallet in the affected side’s rear pocket.

My tri-fold wallet is pretty fat. I did a cleanout last night.  One and half inches thick. Contents:  22 money bills (too many $1 bills for anyone not planning to go to a go-go bar),  6 credit cards,  12 ID type cards (driver’s license, library, work ID, Costco, AAA, Dunkin Donuts), 5 business cards, 5 folded paper notes (my wife’s sizes for shopping, directions, a poem) – but I find it hard to lose any of it except by replacing the bills with a few $20 dollar bills (which will turn  into singles again anyway).

Okay, so what’s my other home treatment?

You might find some quick relief by walking with the foot on the involved side pointing outward which externally rotates the hip, lessening the stretch on the piriformis and relieving the pain slightly. That’s a goofy non-cure, but if it works, I guess you do have the syndrome.

my problematic contents

my problematic contents

Runners, bicyclists and other athletic types who have it need to do lateral stretching and strengthening exercises. When not balanced by lateral movement of the legs, repeated forward movements can lead to disproportionately weak hip abductors and tight adductors. When piriformis syndrome is caused by weak abductors combined with tight adductors, a highly effective and easy treatment includes stretching and strengthening these muscle groups. An exercise regimen targeting the gluteus medius and hip adductor muscle groups can alleviate symptoms of piriformis syndrome within days. What exercises are those? I have no idea. Start Googling or ask that guy at the gym.

Guys, are you feeling any tingling and numbness in the groin and saddle areas? How about urinary and fecal incontinence?

It hits me on longer car trips and I noticed that I have to take out my wallet from my right rear pocket where it has been my whole life.

Now, Doctor Ken is not telling you that this is definitely the cause of your numb ass. Maybe you just sit on it too much. Maybe it’s some other more serious thing like “stiffness, or hypomobility, of the sacroiliac joints” or “overpronation of the foot” and you better go see a doctor with a medical degree. I’m suggesting that you do a wallet cleanout and consider moving that wallet from the back pocket.

In that radio interview, Michael Chabon started carrying a diaper bag because of his kids and the wallet ended up there. A semi-acceptable handbag.  If it’s thin enough, can I get away with a wallet in the front pocket? I don’t wear suits or sport coats enough to use that as a solution. Suggestions welcome.

My Perpetual Motion Machine

radiometerwindow

I’ll bet you recognize the light-bulb looking object shown here on my windowsill, but I suspect you don’t know much about it.

The first one I remember seeing was not in a science class, but in the window of an doctor’s office that I passed many times as a kid. I was fascinated by the fact that it turned without any power source. Was it a perpetual motion device? No, because it required sunlight to move. Was it my introduction to solar power? Sort of, but not accurately.

I wanted one and I finally ordered from a science supply catalog. It has been spinning near all of my desks for about 40 years.

I had heard the term “perpetual motion” and was intrigued by the notion of movement that goes on forever. The idea of something that perpetually (indefinitely) produces more energy than it consumes fascinated me.

Somewhere along the way, I was exposed to the law of conservation of energy which states that energy cannot be created or destroyed and also, disappointingly, implies that such a perpetual motion machine cannot exist.

When I was about ten years old and deeply absorbed by my basement chemistry sets and “lab,” the idea of creating a “perpetual motion machine” took hold of me for a time. The idea of making something that broke a law of nature seemed like the biggest thing you could do. It was like being a Newton or an  Einstein. (I similarly remember that when my fifth grade teacher told us that every word in English had a vowel in it, I wanted very mucgh to find one that did not have a vowel.)

My quest for that machine that does not violate conservation of energy, but (like my radiometer) produces work by spontaneously extracting heat from its surroundings, thereby cooling them down, and converting the heat energy into mechanical work, never succeeded. It I had succeeded, you defininitely woould have heard about it.

It turns out that such machines are forbidden by the second law of thermodynamics.

My radiometer (AKA light-mill) was invented by the English physicist Sir William Crookes. It consists of a set of vanes reflective on one side and blackened on the other and mounted on a sensitively balanced spindle in a partially evacuated vessel. When exposed to light, the vanes rotate.

Why? As the blackened vanes become warmer and repel air molecules from the surface,  the slight difference in air pressure created causes the vanes to rotate.

The speed of rotation is affected by the pressure within the vessel. Higher pressure will increase drag and will be the dominant force affecting the vanes while at low pressure the molecular recoil will dominate. If the pressure is reduced too far there will be too few recoiling molecules to drive the vanes.

The type that bears Crookes name (mine is one of those) is an early-model radiant energy-detector. A variant type is the Nichols radiometer that operates on a different principle, and is more sensitive than the Crookes type.  As an eponym, radiometer usually means a Crookes radiometer.

I recommend that you go ahead and buy a radiometer and be inspired by its seemingly perpetual motion. It’s also another great science “toy” for parents to introduce their kids to science.

MORE
The Properties of the Force Exerted in a Radiometer

Crookes_radiometer

Remembering Dog Days

I don’t own a dog right now. I always had one when I was a kid. But my wife was raised in a pet-free zone and developed a fear of most dogs, so we never had one, though my sons always asked about getting one.  She actually had a good relationship with the dog I had when we were dating. Romper was a cutie and very smart (okay, so everyone says that) and at first used to squeeze between us on the couch because she was jealous.

As much as I love them, I know that dogs and other pets really tie you down, so I was not heartbroken about being dog-less. I figure somewhere in my retirement years I will want a dog again.

What got me thinking about dogs was listening to a podcast from the How Stuff Works guys about whether or not dogs perceive time. (You can download them all free in iTunes.)

It’s actually not that clear about whether or not dogs have a sense of time. From what I heard and then read, it seems divided between the scientists (No) and dog owners (Yes). Of course, we might have to adjust our thinking about time from our human perceptions a bit.

Time is a human construction to allow us to order our lives and all our time-keeping devices have changed how modern man perceives time. Animals don’t seem to care that much about it.

Albert Einstein once explained the principle of relativity by saying, “When a man sits with a pretty girl for an hour, it seems like a minute. But let him sit on a hot stove for a minute — and it’s longer than any hour. That’s relativity.”  He’s right that we all perceive time a bit differently and as individuals view the human construct of Time differently in different situations.

Because we remember events in a particular order, that structures our perception of time. Even the non-psychic amongst us can predict the future – the sun will rise in the morning, a TV program will be on at 8 PM, in 48 hours I will be back at work. That means that we have a sense of continuity, personal history and self-awareness.

dogclockDo dogs and other animals have any of these same abilities?

Does it remember what it ate yesterday? Does it know when it will be time to eat again?

One of the researchers on animal cognition referenced in the podcast is William Roberts. He says that animals are “stuck in time” – meaning that without being able to form memories, animals only live in the present. In other words, they can’t go back to memories and can’t predict forward.

Those are theories that almost any dog owner wil refute.

Owners would point to things like any training they have given their dog. as proof of a memory bank.  Roberts would say No and point to the way young children are trained to do things.

By age four, kids have learned to crawl, walk etc. but can’t recall where or how they learned them.

So, then you have to get into types of memory.  The four year old doesn’t have episodic memory (the ability to remember particular events in the past).

Just because my Romper knew what “stay” meant, it doesn’t mean she had a memory of when she learned that command.

They also point to some research with pigeons. (Right away, I have a problem with the leap from pigeon to dog, but…) Pigeons have an “internal clock” that allows them to learn when and where food would be available and dogs might use circadian oscillators to do the same. Those are those daily fluctuations of hormones, body temperature and neural activity that we also have. The pooch might use those to “predict” when it’s time to be fed or when the kids are coming home from school.

So, they don’t really “remember” the “time” of those events, but it’s a biological state at a particular time of day that they are reacting to as a stimulus.

The researchers have tried to test animals’ “working memories” (those are the short-term memories) and their “reference memories” (long-term) to see how well the animals recall sequences of events. They found that pigeons and primates (where are the doggies?) did fairly well at these tasks, but their memory faded fast. They concluded that that they were probably learning going from weakest memory to strongest memory, rather than actually “learning” or “remembering” a sequence.

Other researchers found that pigeons and monkeys performed well at reference memory tests in which they needed to remember a sequence after a delay between learning and testing [sources: Straub, D'Amato]. But, it took extensive training for the animals to learn these sequences, suggesting to Roberts that the ability did not come naturally to them. From these tests, it seems that animals would perceive time differently from humans, who have a relatively reliable and sophisticated memory of sequence of events.

While we might pack things for a trip, including dog food and bowls,  your dog will not be concerned.

Let me pause here to say that I find this Zen-like “living in the moment” world of dogs rather appealing.

How about Mr. Squirrel caching away food for winter? Isn’t that his 401K plan?  The researchers say they do it simply do it out of instinct. When your dog buries that bone or toy, is she saving it for the future or just having fun digging holes?

Feel free to post your dog tales as comments below – I’m sure all you dog (and cat and parrot and…) owners have evidence to contradict the research.

I won’t even get into the theory that goldfish have only an 8second memory storage.

Paper Planes

paperplane1

Takuo Toda, from Japan, set a Guinness World Record for the longest flight time by a paper airplane.  He folded a single sheet of paper made from sugarcane, weighing only 2 grams, and threw it to a height of over 50 feet at a gymnasium in Fukuyama and saw it slowly circle to the ground 27.9 seconds later.

Do you know how long a 27.9 flight is for a paper plane? It’s a long time.

Go ahead, fold one now and give it a try.

What did you get as your flight time – 5 seconds? Don’t be embarrassed. That’s typical.

Leonardo Da Vinci sometimes gets credit for inventing the paper plane because he referenced making one (well, a bird) out of parchment.  Most sources credit the Chinese since they did invent paper and the kite around 105 A.D.

I ran a group for middle school students to do aerogami. First, the principals of flight: drag, gravity, thrust and lift. Then some simple folding sessions. Watching a person follow instructions to fold a plane, and looking at the result is an excellent way to evaluate IQ.

But when we headed into the gymnasium to throw them up to the ceiling and got out the stopwatch, it was just fun.

My own best indoor flights actually surpassed a minute. But my favorite flights have been off buildings. From Bob’s penthouse balcony in West New York (NJ) over the Hudson River – incredible updrafts. The planes would actually lift above the building. Flight duration? Can’t say – we lost sight of them over the river.

My college paper plane studies were off the balconies of Rutgers College river dorms. Updrafts from Route 18 below and from the Raritan River. The objective was within sight though – across the river to Johnson Park (about 300 meters). Yeah, I got them across a few times. It’s not the distance. It’s the time aloft.

Most of us had some fantasies about flying. Some of us actually pursued it with pilot lessons. (Skydiving is close, but, really, as Woody said in Toy Story, “That wasn’t flying! That was… falling with style!”)

I think you will feel better if, when you finish this post, you fold a classic Dart, Flying Wedge, or Flying Wing and give it a few tosses.

Need some help/plans? Try wikipedia.org/Aerogami

Once you get one up there for 30 seconds, check out the American Institute of Aeronautics for one of their paper airplane competitions.

I Love You, Winnie Cooper

winniecooper

There is a movie in theaters this summer called I Love You, Beth Cooper , but,  back in 1968,  I would have declared my love for Winnie Cooper.

Of course, Winnie was just a character on the TV show, The Wonder Years. The show was that newer genre of dramedy, and it ran for six seasons on ABC, from 1988 through 1993.

The three friends – Kevin, Winnie and Paul – were entering seventh grade when the series began and ending their junior year in high school when it ended.  The series was canceled before they got to senior year and graduation.

Each TV season was set 20 years before the current year (the 1988 season depicted 1968) and episodes were narrated and commented on the 20 years older Kevin (played by Daniel Stern) in a tone that was alternately nostalgic and sarcastic.

I was writing a piece on the actress who played Winnie Cooper, Danica McKellar, for another site last week. McKellar went on after the show to study mathematics at the UCLA, graduate summa cum laude, co-author the Chayes-McKellar-Winn theorem, and  write several books on math for middle school students. She wants to fight math phobia and make it less threatening and more intriguing, especially for girls.

That other post focuses on teaching and math, but while writing it, I had plenty of thoughts about my own connections with that TV series that I decided to post here.

wonderyrs3In 1968, I was just exiting junior high school – not far off from the fictional Kevin.  I could identify somewhat with that character: pretty shy, having trouble in math, apprehensive about high school as I had been about junior high but hoping it would be a fresh start. If I had attended the newly renamed Robert F. Kennedy Jr. High with Kevin, I would definitely have been competing with him for Winnie’s (real name Gwendolyn) attention.

Winnie’s older brother is killed in Vietnam in 1968 and most of my friends were thinking about having to register for the draft in a few years. There was a lottery drawing used to determine who would get called to serve first. I would put lottery in quotation marks since it’s not what young people today would consider to be a lottery (unless they had read the short story by Shirley Jackson by that name), but it was really a lottery. The system had not been used since 1942, but was reinstituted in 1969 by the Selective Service System. It changed the system from the “draft the oldest man first” method to the “luck of the draw.”

Similar to those television lottery drawings, there were 366 blue plastic capsules containing birth dates placed in a large glass container and drawn by hand. With radio, film, and TV coverage, the capsules were drawn from the container, opened, and the dates inside posted in order. I sat in my Tinsley dorm lounge at Rutgers College in 1972 watching with my fellow frosh.

In the order that was called to report that day, my birth date came out as #352. A lucky day for me, but it was tough sitting there when someone’s birth date came up in those low numbers.

It turned out , this lottery which was for men who would have been called in 1973, was lucky for all of us – no new draft orders were issued after 1972.

While I would have had that crush on Winnie Cooper as a teen in 1968, in 1988, when I was watching those episodes, I was teaching 8th graders English in New Jersey. The show evoked memories of the past, but it also connected with my present.

The teacher on the show I liked was Mr. Collins (played by Steven Gilborn) who taught algebra. He was strict, serious, kind of boring but really cared. He helped Kevin out when he was giving up in his class, but he didn’t hand him a good grade. Mr. Collins died of a heart attack (I think the episode was titled “Goodbye). The last test he had give was one where Kevin had decided to draw doodles as answers as a stupid “protest” against algebra, so the news of his death makes Kevin feel really guilty. A replacement teacher tells Kevin that Collins had “misplaced” the test and so he has to take it over. He really gives it his best, taking into account all the teacher’s advice. In one of those borderline corny/touching moments in the series, he sees Collins’ ghost who is pleased at his effort.

The series finale ends with adult Kevin saying:

Growing up happens in a heartbeat. One day you’re in diapers, the next day you’re gone. But the memories of childhood stay with you for the long haul. I remember a place, a town, a house, like a lot of houses. A yard like a lot of other yards. On a street like a lot of other streets. And the thing is, after all these years, I still look back…with wonder.

If you do an image search on Danica McKellar, there are plenty of sexy shots of the actress today. But Winnie is like most of the students I taught in middle school and never saw again. For me, they will never grow up.


Unfortunately, The Wonder Years is not currently available on DVD (I heard it was because of all the music used in the episodes) but you can watch the final five minutes of the series finale.

Classics Illustrated

Classics Illustrated is a comic book series featuring adaptations of literary classics such as Moby Dick, Hamlet, and The Iliad.

The series began publication in 1941 and finished its first run in 1971, producing 169 issues. (Other companies reprinted the titles after that.)

I am not the only kid who was first exposed to classic literature through the series. For me, that happened in the early 1960s.

Each issue of 64 pages was not only an abridged but accurate literary adaptation, but featured author profiles and various educational little fillers. There were no ads. No ads.

I always read the back cover catalog of titles to decide what was my next purchase. Luckily, my mom thought they were good for me to read.

I have very vivid memories of spinning the comic book stand at Sam’s Deli at Lenox & Madison Avenues in Irvington, NJ. I can hear the squeak.

Most comics cost 12 cents – Classics cost 15 cents – which made it clear that they were “special.” Oh, I also bought Superman and Archie comics. Sometimes, there were “giant” issues for a quarter.

I loved having a quarter to spend. Two comics and still a penny candy. Maybe a sour apple gumball. No sales tax. Or one comic, a 10 cent fountain soda or Fudgesicle and 3 penny candies. What a deal.

In 1942, the publisher became the Gilberton Company, Inc. with reprints of previous titles. With WWII, paper rationing forced a cut to 56 pages and costs later cut it to 48 pages.


These comics led me to begin reading the actual books.  I tore through the Jules Verne comics and I read the books. I doubt I could get through the novels any more. I reread Moby Dick many times – and I have reread that novel probably a dozen times.

The series actually became Classics Illustrated in 1947 with issue #35,  The Last Days of Pompeii. In 1951,they added painted covers.

By the time I was born, they had added Classics Illustrated Junior, some special issues, and The World Around Us.

They sold 200 million copies between 1941 and 1962 and then new titles ceased.

What happened?  Television, Cliff’s Notes (for those who had used the comics as such; many a book report was faked using the comics), increased mailing, paper and printing costs.

The comic book series was created by Albert Lewis Kanter who wanted to introduce some great literature to kids who were not reading the original books. It was also a time when the comic book industry was coming under attack for its “negative influence” on youth.

Sterling North, a columnist for the Chicago Daily News led the attack. He wrote that comic books were:

“badly written and badly printed. A strain on young eyes and young nervous systems the effect of these pulp-paper nightmares is that of a violent stimulant [and] unless we want a coming generation even more ferocious than the present one, parents and teachers throughout America must band together to break the comic magazine.”

Kanter’s plan eventually worked. I actually had a teacher who had issues in the classroom for us to read. He also gave me a box of old issues at the end of the school year which I still have. The series ranked as the largest juvenile publication in the world for a time.  Even kids who were avoiding reading the novels (or Shakespeare plays) were still exposed to some literary tales that would have otherwise never known.

I remember reading The War Of  The Worlds (#124) and I remember reading the book which I had ordered in school through the Scholastic Book Club. (Thanks again, Mom, for always letting me order a book.)  Number 124 was a classic Classic. I’ve seen the old and new movie versions of that H.G. Wells classic, but my vision of what a Tripod looks like is still in that comic book. The comic of The Invisible Man had better special effects than any film of the time.

I don’t know if there is an equivalent for today’s kids.

Movie versions of classics? Not many of those are made anymore, but you can rent/download films of  To Kill A Mockingbird, Great Expectations and Romeo & Juliet. I’d rather see them read the comics.

Camptown, NJ

I grew up in New Jersey. I grew up in town that was originally part of Clinton Township and included parts of  today’s Maplewood, Newark and South Orange.

My hometown was called Camptown until the mid-1800s because of the religious camp meetings that were held there.

In 1850, after Stephen Foster published his ballad, “Camptown Races,”  residents were concerned that the “wild” activities described in the song would be associated with their quiet community. Camptowns were tent cities that were temporary workingmen’s accommodations in many parts of the United States, especially along the rapidly expanding railroad network. Along with the workers and their horses came races and betting.

See dem flyin’ on a ten mile heat, Doo-dah doo-dah!
Round de race track, den repeat, Oh, doo-dah-day!
I win my money on de bob-tail nag, Doo-dah! doo-dah!
I keep my money in an old tow-bag, Oh, doo-dah-day!

So, the wife of the local postmaster, suggested Irvingtown, in honor of  the author Washington Irving. It was accepted. The author was invited. He never showed up.

That’s my hometown’s real story.

Irvington (drop the w) was incorporated as an independent Village in 1874, and later incorporated as a Town, replacing Irvington Village. In my days there, it had about 65,000 residents making it one of the biggest “towns” in the country. And all packed into a square mile.

After the 1967 Newark riots, there was a fast exodus of families who thought they were living in a suburban town and discovered they were part of the Newark sprawl in the most densely populated part of the United States.

Until 1965, Irvington was almost exclusively white. By 1980, the town was nearly 40% black, by 1990 it was 70%.

Irvington has had a tough run of it the past 3o years, but I loved growing up there. I lived on Adams Street and it was a real neighborhood where you knew all the other families by name. I could wander as a kid from house to house, to the park, down to play at the brook, off to the downtown stores or one of the three movie heaters, and my parents never worried about me. It was a different time; a different world.

Doo-dah, doo-dah.

Greasy Tony’s Reborn In The Desert

Tony's in ArizonaSteve Smith checking in with Tony

Greasy Tony’s was a food joint that used to be on Easton Ave. and Somerset Street in New Brunswick, NJ.

During my mid-70’s days at Rutgers College, it was a fixture.

In 1992, Tony got evicted (“eminent domain”) so the college could put up a new building.  Tony moved out to Tempe, Arizona and is still greasing up the insides of all comers.  [Note: Since this was posted, word has reached me that unbeknownst to me, Tony Giorgianni died in June 2008.]  My buddy Steve Smith (who grew up in New Brunswick and attended Rutgers with me) consumed a good number of Tony creations. Guess where Steve spends the months when the Jersey beach town of Seaside Park is a bit too cold for his wife? Uh huh – he has a place in Arizona.

Tony's AZAfter Rutgers played in the Insight Bowl in 2005 (Arizona State beat them 45-40), some Rutgers fans in the know headed from the stadium past the ASU campus and to Greasy Tony’s.

It looks like a Greasy Tony’s establishment should look.

Depending on when you got there, you might have seen a limo parked on the side of the building. And there in the outside seating area was James Gandolfini (Rutgers grad) eating a cheesesteak.

A cheesesteak and  Tony Soprano out in the desert.

Jersey people are survivors.

Greasy Tony's, NJ

Tony's original menu

The Paradelle

A paradelle is a modern poetic form which was invented by United States Poet Laureate Billy Collins as a parody of the villanelle.

Billy Collins claimed in his book, Picnic, Lighting, that the paradelle was invented in eleventh century France.  His own paradelle, “Paradelle for Susan”, was intentionally terrible, completing the final stanza with the line “Darken the mountain, time and find was my into it was with to to”.

When Collins first published the paradelle, it was with the footnote

“The paradelle is one of the more demanding French fixed forms, first appearing in the langue d’oc love poetry of the eleventh century. It is a poem of four six-line stanzas in which the first and second lines, as well as the third and fourth lines of the first three stanzas, must be identical. The fifth and sixth lines, which traditionally resolve these stanzas, must use all the words from the preceding lines and only those words. Similarly, the final stanza must use every word from all the preceding stanzas and only these words.”

The form took on a life of its own. Not all reviewers of Collins’ book recognized that the paradelle was a parody of formal poetry and of those poets who adhere to formalism at the expense of sense. Some reviews even criticized “Paradelle for Susan” as an amateurish attempt at a difficult form without ever understanding that this was, indeed, the point.

Some poets also missed the parody and took the form seriously, writing their own paradelles. Others, knowing of the hoax, nevertheless decided to see what they could do with the strict form.

Here’s my own serious attempt at the form:

TWO YEARS

The heart softens with winter,
the heart softens with winter.
Time strengthens your thin body,
time strengthens your thin body.
Your thin body strengthens.
Winter time softens the heart.

Oak and sage edges the river,
oak and sage edges the river.
Rock breaks the water, its rings survive,
rock breaks the water, its rings survive.
Sage, oak and rock survive the breaks.
The river water rings its edges.

From a year without you beside me with the pain,
from a year without you beside me with the pain.
These selected moments surface,
these selected moments surface.
You beside me without the pain,
surface from a year with these selected moments.

The river rock softens its edges with time.
Oak at the heart strengthens as the rings thin.
Sage survives the winter pain.
Your body breaks the water surface beside me.
These moments selected from a year with
and without you.

Ken Ronkowitz

This poem was published in 2005 in an anthology, The Paradelle, from Red Hen Press.