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always a welcome compliment, Andrew, a May I blog it? from you. best from Max in Seattle On Aug 5, 2015, at 16:42, Andrew Burke <[log in to unmask]> wrote: > Wow, that is a truly moving poem. Thanks, Max. May I blog it? I admire the > man and yr weaving skills. > > Andrew > > On 6 August 2015 at 05:46, Max Richards <[log in to unmask]> wrote: > >> Thanks, Doug, also Sheila and Patrick. >> >> About broadcasting of Parliament, Australia also began this ages ago, >> and nowadays it’s also on TV! >> >> Last time I was in a Melbourne doctor’s waiting room, the sick and injured >> were watching Question Time, enough to sicken and injure in itself… >> >> Max in Seattle >> >> On Aug 5, 2015, at 11:25, Douglas Barbour <[log in to unmask]> wrote: >> >>> Nicely caught, Max.He knew a thing or two, still worth thinking today, >> I’d say (but hoisters to Parliament [is there such a staton?]today?). >>> >>> Doug >>> On Aug 5, 2015, at 10:27 AM, Max Richards <[log in to unmask]> wrote: >>> >>>> Stan Cooper >>>> >>>> Next door when I was thirteen >>>> Stan was the blind man in his shed >>>> weaving baskets on his own. >>>> >>>> Suntanned back and chest, wiry arms, >>>> he did his best for rows of beans, >>>> potatoes, tomatoes - Look at these! >>>> >>>> turning them in horny fingers, >>>> feeling for blight. Ripe! juicy! >>>> Those damn white butterflies! >>>> >>>> He’d tap tap his way to the bus >>>> twice a week maybe, visiting >>>> mates at the Blind Institute; >>>> >>>> on the way back drank beer >>>> in some dim pub or other - >>>> everywhere was dim, he told me - >>>> >>>> fuelling a two-voice barney that night >>>> with his sharp-eyed sharp-tongued wife. >>>> He’d back off, to his dark shed, its roof >>>> >>>> strewn with spread sheaves of wicker-canes >>>> delivered for him to moisten >>>> and soften up there till weaving-time. >>>> >>>> The same van took away good baskets, >>>> sources of pride but not much income. >>>> His little brown bakelite radio >>>> >>>> wired to a shed-top aerial >>>> was tuned loud to Parliament >>>> in Wellington, good for him >>>> >>>> to abuse the Tories, grumble >>>> at Labour’s ineffectiveness. >>>> Don’t they remember the Thirties?! >>>> >>>> How can they trust the banks?! >>>> Don’t they dare touch Social >>>> Security! The Pacific’s just >>>> >>>> a pond now for the U.S. Navy. >>>> They’ll want the Antarctic next. >>>> Untravelled, unread, un-sighted, >>>> >>>> Stan had wide horizons, taught me >>>> a thing or two - offered me weaving >>>> lessons. Thanks, Stan, no thanks - >>>> >>>> his swearing (‘bloody bitch’) irked Mum. >>>> I didn’t fancy horny work hands >>>> or all the Parliamentary barneys. >>>> >>>> I’d go back to my books, Latin >>>> for Today, New Zealand Our Country - >>>> nothing there about banks. >>>> >>>> [Owairaka 1950; Seattle 2015] >>> >>> Douglas Barbour >>> [log in to unmask] >>> >>> Recent publications: (With Sheila E Murphy) Continuations & Continuation >> 2 (UofAPress). >>> Recording Dates (Rubicon Press). >>> >>> Done in by creation itself. >>> >>> I mean the gods. Not us. Well us too. >>> The gods moved into books. Who wrote the books? >>> We wrote the books. In whose dream, then are we dreaming? >>> >>> Robert Kroetsch. >>