5

The Backstretched Connexion:

Youth and Age

in The Shepheardes Calender

This chapter proposes an interpretation of The Shepheardes Calender which places the debate of youth and age at the work’s core. Spenser used both the thematic content and the formal structure of this minor bucolic convention as the central shaping principle of his major pastoral work. Such emphasis was particularly appropriate, first because pastoral’s rural settings on the periphery of civilization correspond to the peripheral states of the human life cycle, and second, because pastoral’s projection of dual worlds inspires debate-like comparisons of perception and judgment.

But Spenser did not simply reprocess these essential elements of the pastoral tradition. Rather he modified and enriched his conventional models by disclosing the debate of youth and age through the viewpoint of a narrative persona, a viewpoint which shifts in the course of the poem from identification with youth to identification with age. That is to say, Spenser used the pastoral debate of youth and age as a means by which to externalize the inner conflicts of past and future, of regression and maturation, endemic to adolescence. By patterning his series of eclogues with a phased succession of such debates, Spenser allowed the reader to participate in the reversal of perspective that constitutes the subjective transformation of boy into man. Moving from premises about the psychology of pastoral and about the philosophy of debate laid down previously, this chapter arrives at the conclusion that The Shepheardes Calender–a product of its author’s youth and addressed to youthful readers-has as its deepest unifying subject the life stage of youth itself. (more…)

I had been feeding the pigs extra ration all week to use up what was left of the Hog Grower. They sounded even angrier than usual on Saturday morning, when I didn’t stop at their pen on my round of chores. By the time I finished rinsing the milk strainer, Jonah had already belted himself into the front seat of the car.

I floored the accelerator for the five mile trip down the highway to his friend Jimmy Cox’s house, where I had arranged for him to spend the day. The inside of “the wagon wheel place” felt strange to me, its walls lined with trophies and racks of guns.

Back home, 1 started preparing. I redug the old fire^–pit in the backyard, split a good sized pile of dry cedar and alder, and scoured out the forty gallon drum. I set the drum over the pit, staked at a 45 degree angle against the heavy work table, so that we would be able to dip and pull while scraping the hides. As water from the hose slowly filled the drum, I kindled the fire. Then I went over to the collapsing root cellar and sawed off two maple branches growing through its roof. I sharpened them at both ends to make spreading sticks and placed them on the table next to the coiled ropes, the pile of folded gunny sacks, the whetted knives and the .22.

I was feeling anxious, but more focused than usual. I had to be ready by 11:00 o’clock, when Terry Kurtz, my experienced neighbor, was coming over to help out. As I had explained to our visitor from the city a few days earlier, slaughtering animals no longer disturbs me, as long as the process is carried out with order, precision and respect for the animal’s gift. (more…)

Last night: The Seventh Seal at the College, followed by Roy and Eileen’s wedding reception at Lund.  Neil walked up while I was eating smoked salmon and drinking champagne and told me that it was Kol Nidre evening.  This morning I decided to fast and pray, but first a furious cleanup of Jonah’s room and the bedroom.

I dug out the bag of Tfillin I received at my Bar Mitzvah.  The blue velvet covered with dust and mold, the zipper seized with rust, the leather inside cracked and twisted, a hole worn through the gold embroidered star of David.  It was left under a leak in the cooler for two years.  Inside a stained piece of paper with Aunt Marta’s history of the Wertheimer family back five generations: “Steven Marx, great grandson of daughter Rose of Baruch Loeb Wertheimer, wife Jeannette, is Professor at Columbia University.”

Last night at the reception, June urged me to write and stop mucking around with distractions like theatre.  A dream recurrent: I’m in a cafeteria line, very anxious.  I have several classes to attend during my senior year.  I have an excellent record but I haven’t been to these last required classes in a long time.  I forget what the courses are, what the assignments, don’t know what the consequences will be, they may be terrible.  I wake up unhappy.

The crankiness and stomach pains from fasting have passed into a slow passive contentment like that I felt after the Gestalt group in the tipi. Reading prayer book, beating breast, dubbining the Tfillin straps and taping up the boxes, unsure of what’s inside. Jan comes home and I work with her canning tomatoes.

Prospering, prospering: joy, peace, snug warmth.  Reading, drinking tea, sleeping, meditating on the saggy sofa by the stove.  The Ashley works better all the time.  Last night it burned 8 hours and still had three logs going this morning. The ceiling over the kitchen insulated with blankets of pink fiberglass, the holes in the floor chinked, curtains over the windows in the living room.  The house is getting tighter, cleaner.  And yesterday, unpacking woolies and a forgotten old tenor recorder and boxes of books from behind the eaves.  And Jan and Jonah making a chocolate cake.  And Janet and Martin coming to interview us about the adoption and Chantelle LeDuc playing with Jonah in the bath and upstairs.

I prepared salmon dinner and invited Janet and Martin to stay–they did–then went off to rehearsal.  It’s coming together [Free to Be You and Me] and I begin to really enjoy the play.

The moon and stars are brilliant.  Tonight is potluck dinner with our coop collective.  This morning I ran the drain from sink and bathtub to the barnyard so Jan and Jeanne will have running water during the freeze.

The wind gusts, the stove taps lightly, the mixed-in sticks of green alder hiss, the drdaft whistles low and cheerful.  The snow falls, sometimes in rare flakes, sometimes in thick clouds.  Out the window, black and white and red and green.

Went up the tree tonight with Stan.  Still no human habitation in sight. The tree put on lots of new growth this year.  Tips no longer yellow-green but whitish-olive, still tender though. ¦The farm, my mistress, my passionate affair, returned after two years.  Tempestuous love-hate. It beguiles and tortures and surprises and overwhelms me. I would fight for it as for wife and child.

Every day closer to moving, to the new life.  Blossoms opening, deeper fragrance.  The light through the tulips on Purcell way near the college, lilacs on the table, japonical in the front yard, broom in front of Venice Bakery, hyacinths in Park and Tilford gardens, forgetmenots in Stanley park, daffodils on the farm, cherry blossoms on Nanaimo Drive, Huckleberry leaves turning from deep red to bright light green on the stump outside the door, skunk cabbage leaves in the cedar swamp, apple blossoms in bud on the Duchess.  I identify with the flowers: opening, coloring blooming, smiling, singing, shooting seed and fragrance.

Planted the garden in two days last week.  Five rows of corn, three rows of onions, five rows of carrots, two tripods of beans and a fenceful of beans and snowpeas and tomatoes, six hills of squash, two rows of parsnips, beets, turnips, radishes, cauliflowers, broccoli, spinach.  The mulch and the ditches worked beautifully to prepare the soil. Jonah and Drumas playing with the hose.  Jonah getting suntanned, golden haired and curly.  The experience of the garden”digging in the good brown dirt, mixing in manure, dropping in seeds, covering them over, row after row, under the sun and blue sky. The goats, sheep, stream, children.  I fear the jealousy of the gods and the envy of my neighbors.  I pray in thanksgiving next to Jonah’s bed.

Recording tapes at the MPC: Bach, Mozart.  Hours and hours of beauty.  Even the blue truck works.  Janet went to Seattle to see Jelstrup and tell him about the cured whiplash.  Last weekend she and I moved heavy furniture.  She’s no longer crippled.

from Court Evidence, the Marx Farm Daily Record for 1972-1973 in Lund, British Columbia

January 28 1973

Cold and rainy. Janet discovered Rebecca dead in the barn, hanging by her neck in an eight inch hole in the partition between her stall and the grain Michael Friedman was storing there. In order to get her out, Steven had to hacksaw her horns. We decided not to butcher her and buried her under boughs and ferns on the adjoining Crown land. Went to Friedmans place to get eggs and met Ken Law who brought our grocery order from the coop in Vancouver. Went to Pihls to get Vance, Letitia Tracy and Kelly Faire to help us do up eleven chickens including Ajax the rooster. Vance chopped the heads off and gutted them, Kelly carried the carcasses to Steven, Janet, Ticia and Tracy who plucked. It took two and a half hours. Afterwards we had popcorn and hot chocolate in front of the fire.

January 29 1973

Warm snow slush. J and S worked in barn, J transferring wet grain to dry place, S fixing the plumbing leak in the sink upstairs, cleaning up mess John left, including bleach bottle half full of pee. Barn is now ready for new occupancy. Made huge pot of chicken soup with Ajax. Froze ten chickens, one to Vance. Ken, Debby and Maz came for dinner. Ken stayed over.

Friday February 2

Steven has interview at Manpower and is told he should leave the area to find work elsewhereSeth and Muriel write offering $1500 loan. Eight acre parcel of our land is listed at Marriette Agencies..

Thursday February 8

Kenneth informed us of his decision to move into the cabin, as a result of a Tarot reading the night before. He brings string and teaches Steven how to Macrame. Steven stops freaking out for a while¦Potato pancakes and parsnips for dinner. Mrs. Williams called and asks both Jan and Steven to substitute at school the next day. Melvin Marguilis and gang arrive in time for a party. Lou T. called saying they definitely want to buy the eight acre parcel¦Ken agrees to take care of Jonah while Steven and Jan go to school. Nick Valerie, Kenneth, Melvin, stay over¦

Sunday February 11

Clear morning, cloudy afternoon. S. picked brush, K. went along. J modeled for Fred. Jonah went to Nancy Crowther’s with Doreen. J and S went upstairs. K. cut the end of his finger off. J and S take him to hospital. Bleeding stops when Dr. Warriner looks at the cut. S and J and K buy ice cream at Knight’s Weekly News.

Monday February 12

Steven goes to dentist and gets spark plug wires replaced on truck. Goes looking for work at construction site and with Durling the surveyor. Janet gets notice of reinstatement on UIC and a check for $58. Jeff Chernove says Kirpal Singh is the answer. David Creek says Primal therapy is the answer. J, K, and S work on plans for Valentines party and discuss jealousy.

Wednesday February 14

J and S go to town early for appointment with Dr. Ryan, the psychiatrist, then to lawyer to sign contract and close sale of land with Lou and Kent. Kenneth stays with Jonah and cooks all day for Valentines party: chicken in milk, dahl, yogurt salad. Steven makes Valentines cheesecake. People arrive and make Valentines and paint cookies: Tony and Maureen, Ron and Anne, Ian and Maggie, David, Susan and Jessica, Laurie and David Creek. S and J and K and Jonah exchanged valentines. S and K played recorders.

Friday February 16

… Jonah gets baby aspirin bottle and eats 10. J and S take him to hospital where he’s made to barf, but no aspirins are found¦Late dinner. Jonah calls Kenneth “Kennie,” the first adult outside of “Nanet” and “Daddy” that he’s named.

(more…)

December 21, 1971 Day Shift

Solstice

Sap down, morning dark
Rooster sleeps, infant coughs, wife groans
Stove cold, pipes froze, truck stuck
Uncoffied and late to work.

Screen Tender empties sewer samples
“Goundwood down for cleanup
Pollution controls suspended
Today we flush the system out.”

Thousands of gallons of woodpulp and bleach
Zinc hydrosufite, sodium sulfate
Slosh through the flume into the saltchuck
Pablum for fish, heavily spiced.

In the Towncrier photo the Forestry Superintendant
Stands proud on the butt of a thousand year old fir
They’ve finished logging the old growth grove at Goat Lake.
It was one of the last virgin stands near the coast of B.C.

Cruised, felled, limbed, bucked
Skidded, yarded, loaded, trucked
Dumped, boomed, sorted, tugged
Towed, spiked, barked, lugged.
Ripped, slashed, cross-cut.

Pulped, shredded, screened
Bleached, tested, cleaned
Blended, thickened, died
Rolled, pressed, dried
Wound, rewound, finished.

The Times is all that’s left
For breakfast.

When darkness holds dominion here tonight
We’ll find and cut a sapling hemlock tree
To celebrate renewal of the light
And hope for rebirth of the land and sea.

Columbia Spectator