Today, Helen Finnegan, my great-grandmother, turns 90! So as a small tip of my hat I chose Edgar Allan Poe‘s poem, To Helen (Poem of Youth)…. Happy Birthday!
HELEN, thy beauty is to me
Like those Nicean barks of yore,
That gently, o’er a perfumed sea,
The weary way-worn wanderer bore
To his own native shore.
On desperate seas long wont to roam,
Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
Thy Naiad airs have brought me home
To the glory that was Greece,
And the grandeur that was Rome.
Lo ! in yon brilliant window-niche
How statue-like I me thee stand,
The agate lamp within thy hand!
Ah, Psyche, from the regions which
Are Holy-land !
An afternoon anecdote to accompany our poem: Suzanne’s mother, Irene Keller, called her last night at 9 to catch up but also to complain that she hadn’t seen the sun all day. Suzanne kept inquiring about the weather, since the weather in Baltimore usually hits Nantucket the next day, but Irene kept insisting that “it is black. Black!”
So Suzanne says, “Grey, like it’s raining?”
“No, black. It’s been black. You can’t see anything.”
“Well, Mom, it’s nighttime.”
“Oh, it is?…. I”m gonna go to bed then.”
Suzanne deduced Irene had napped and woken up thinking it was morning. We’ve all done it and this story made us laugh about all the little slips we make. Better to laugh right? So, come on down for our emergency clown noses… putting a ball on your nose puts a smile on someone else’s face.