We took a trip up to Lowell today to see our nephew, Telly, row in his first race as a member of the UMass Lowell Crew Team.

As we arrive, we bumped into Guy and Carol Tucker and as it turns out, their son Reed rows in the same boat as Telly. In fact, Telly and Reed are the only two novices on the team.

Here’s a video from the day’s events:

Several years ago (1997 perhaps?) Telly and Reed actually went trick or treating together when Telly and some of his sibs were living with us.

Here’s a photo of that Halloween:

The boys at Haloween: Left to Right, Sam Morel, Reed Tucker, Telly Casternopoulos, Plat Casternopoulos, Socrates Casternopoulos, and Tim Morel.

It’s starting to look a little bleak for Christmas…

Mrs. Claus: “Hey, look who’s here Santa.”
Santa: “I don’t recognize Al.”
Al “What?! I’ve been good Santa, really!”
Santa: “That would be a marked change.”

All the videos from The Hudson Downtown Holiday Stroll: HERE.

I remember the first time I heard this song. Uh, sort of. I remember that I was in the Sanders Theater at Harvard and it was performed by John Gorka. Exactly WHEN that was is a mystery. But I was certainly struck right between the eyes by this song and it is still on my playlist.

The story of the genesis of this song is a little muddy. The summary is that a young woman wrote this poem during WWII, and John put them to music a few years back. There’s a bit of an urban legend that it was found by a nurse in a fallen soldier’s belongings in the Philippines, but no.

Here’s a video of JG’s version and the lyrics are below.

Here are the lyrics:

Let them in, Peter,
They are very tired
Give them couches where the angels sleep
And light those fires

Let them wake whole again
To brand new dawns
Fired with the sun
Not wartime’s bloody guns

May their peace be deep
Remember where the broken bodies lie
God knows how young they were
To have to die
God knows how young they were to have to die

Give them things they like
Let them make some noise
Give roadhouse bands, not golden harps
To these our boys

And let them love, Peter
‘Cause they’ve had no time
They should have trees and bird songs
And hills to climb

The taste of summer in a ripened pear
And girls sweet as meadow winds
With flowing hair

Tell them how they are missed
And say not to fear
It’s gonna be alright
With us down here

Let them in, Peter…

Here’s a blurb on the original poem and the author.

This article excerpt appeared in the Sunday Edition of the Oakland Tribune on December 17, 1961, page 2S.

“It was the summer of 1942, and things were not going well for us in the war,” said Elma Dean in her quiet voice, “and so many of our sons, some of my friend’s sons, were being killed. I was going around with tears in my eyes.”

Her tears for the heartbreak of other mothers were crystalized in a poem, “Letter to St. Peter, ” and the tiny Oakland housewife suddenly became known around the world. Her sonnet of lament for boys so young to die, and hope that something would make up for what they missed down here, brought her letters from mothers throughout the nation, was inscribed on the wall of an American cemetery in England, was read by a United States senator at another cemetery in Europe, and found its way even into the National Geographic and the Congresssional Record.

“It was a maybe a little sentimental,” said the author “and it isn’t the best poem I’ve done, but it was what the public liked the best. I’ve been in many anthologies–not the vanity kind–but I am happiest about being in Louis Untermeyer’s ‘Mid-Century Edition of Modern American and British Poetry”– and it was another poem, one from the New Yorker.”

In the process or becoming a poet, winning awards and getting into anthologies, Elma also enjoyed being a wife and mother–and now grandmother. [About her husband's reaction to her poetry,] “I’m afraid he’s an admirer of mine,” said Elma with a gentle, hazel-eyed smile. “When I showed the St. Peter poem to him, as I always do when I think I’ve done something any good, he said, “this will make the readers Digest.”

Letter To Saint Peter
By Elma Dean

Let them in, Peter, they are very tired;

Give them the couches where the angels sleep.

Let them wake whole again to new dawns fired

With sun not war. And may their peace be deep.

Remember where the broken bodies lie…

And give them things they like. Let them make noise.

God knows how young they were to have to die!

Give swing bands, not gold harps, to these our boys.

Let them love, Peter,-they have had no time-

Girls sweet as meadow wind, with flowering hair…

They should have trees and bird song, hills to climb-

The taste of summer in a ripened pear.

Tell them they are missed. Say not to fear;

It’s going to be all right with us down here.

May first is always a special day for me. It was on that day, nearly 50 years ago, that I was hit by a car. I usually try and make it a special day and use it as a day of remembrance and thanksgiving. I guess I was pretty lucky to get out in almost one piece.

My family had moved to Newport, RI and I was staying with my grandparents to polish off second grade. We were visiting relations one evening, and some young kid was barreling down the street and the next thing I know, I was flying through the air in what seemed lie slow motion. I vaguely remember my grandfather screaming at the top of his lungs and the ambulance siren as we went to the hospital.

I ended up spending a couple of months in the hospital with the main injury being a compound fracture of the femur.  After, a short hunger strike (another story, another time) I spent most of the rest of the summer in a full cast in my grandparents’ living room and listening to the Rex Sox on the radio with my grandfather.

The videos below are the video diary of our trip on May 1. They include: An Indian wedding procession, a meeting with a congressman, picking up a group of Franciscan monks hitchhiking. And, at the very end of the day, I was in the art co-op in Shellburne and and overheard a group of the artists, who were behind the counter having dinner together, talking about how they were hit by cars as children. (Insert your own spooky music here!)

May 1, 2010 Videos

Part 1: The Indian Wedding Procession

On our way out of town, we found this Indian wedding procession in the parking lot of the Royal Plaza Hotel over in Marlborough. The groom rides a horse with much fanfare to meet his bride to be who is waiting for her family. Now this is wedding!

Part 2: Davidian Fams in Northborough, with a 1914 Model T and Congressman James McGovern

We decided to stop for a quick bite at Davidian Farms in Northborough and saw a really cool 1914 Model T and met Congressman James McGovern and his district Representative, Kathlen Polanowicz.

Part 3: Bits and Pieces

A few short clips from the trip with photovoltaics in Ashburnham, the Toy Town horse, a historic plaque in Hinsdale, NH and some hawks caught circling around.

Part 4: Our Franciscan Hitchhiking Friends

We picked up these folks hitchhiking in southern Vermont and drove them to their destination. They were traveling from Lawrence, MA to their retreat for a week.

Part 5: Dinner in Shelburne Falls

After dropping off our new friends we headed back east and stopped at the bridge of flowers and had a meal.

I just heard that a beloved young person in my orbit lost a beloved teacher. This is for you Jordy!