I’m not yucking your yum - get it. Love what you love. It’s awesome.
Here in Kent, Ohio, May 4 has a whole other significance. Several people I know have recently participated in giving their oral history of the May 4 shootings at Kent State University’s May 4 Museum. It was 45 years ago, and for many people who still live in this community, it happened about five minutes ago.
Saturday night I went to the Jawbone Poetry Festival second night open reading, and my friend David, who runs the Wick Poetry Center, read from a book of oral histories from the day. Every year that I live here, I learn a little bit more about what did and did not happen. About what the people whose lives and love touch my life and my love have been carrying with them all of these years. This is my community, and the hurt is still so palpable.
Yesterday afternoon a motley group of us gathered in the town park for a potluck picnic and to read some more poems to one another. We sang several songs, finding sweet and warbly harmonies. The Baker and his son came with us, and it was such a pleasure to be in the warmth of the day, the warmth of all of those hearts wide open with a new friend by my side. My community continues to change shape, and because of that, so does my heart.
I don’t remember May 4. I was just 3 years old at the time. But because I live here, it is a growing part of me.