last friday, a poetry reading for residents at hearthstone at maidencreek, a retirement home in maidencreek township, served as the first yet for this poetry project where poems were read to an audience of exclusively seniors.
and this also served as a special reading because hearthstone at maidencreek is the one location where the most poem-sources all live in one place. six of those in attendance were poem-sources, and about 20 people were there altogether.
photos were taken by the poet, kathy moore, and allison rohrbach. many thanks for this assistance to moore and rohrbach for this eye-scooping help with the camera, to help share scenes from this reading with our community and beyond.
the oldest poem-source, irene schappell, who will be 99 in just a few short days, had great wit at the reading. she called me a "doll" and then finished by adding, ''croc-a-doll." she is known for her wonderful humor at hearthstone at maidencreek.
below is the excerpt from schappell's poem. she made her way to this earth in 1916.
*
like so many women in our patch
of pennsylvania in the past, i sat
at a knitting machine and used
my feet to make the pedals go.
my dad, he served as a firefighter.
and i knitted black and tan stockings
for all these women i’d never meet,
after the fibers i knew left my hands
and went onto those who would inspect
it all, package so many pairs, and ship
them away. now that i’ve rounded
almost a century in my life, who
could remember the name of that
mill—maybe hamburg knitting mills.
maybe hamburg hosiery mills. i wore
some of what i made, so my legs
remained toastier in winter, back
when dresses and skirts flowed, flew
as we walked, not like all the pants
and jeans the girls wear today. where
i worked, a small mill, it had good
workers and leaders. a few men
knitted at machines as i did. just a few.
my supervisors told me i did a good
job, that i was a good worker, reliable.
the noise of the machines, so loud.
---
a girl i don’t know writes me a letter,
says i’m wonderful. smart. funny.
and that not everyone is funny at 98.
i love reading this letter, holding it.
of pennsylvania in the past, i sat
at a knitting machine and used
my feet to make the pedals go.
my dad, he served as a firefighter.
and i knitted black and tan stockings
for all these women i’d never meet,
after the fibers i knew left my hands
and went onto those who would inspect
it all, package so many pairs, and ship
them away. now that i’ve rounded
almost a century in my life, who
could remember the name of that
mill—maybe hamburg knitting mills.
maybe hamburg hosiery mills. i wore
some of what i made, so my legs
remained toastier in winter, back
when dresses and skirts flowed, flew
as we walked, not like all the pants
and jeans the girls wear today. where
i worked, a small mill, it had good
workers and leaders. a few men
knitted at machines as i did. just a few.
my supervisors told me i did a good
job, that i was a good worker, reliable.
the noise of the machines, so loud.
---
a girl i don’t know writes me a letter,
says i’m wonderful. smart. funny.
and that not everyone is funny at 98.
i love reading this letter, holding it.
*
(irene schappell)
then helen mengel threw out the invitation for some great laughs when she let us all know that upper level management at willson products, inc. asked her to hand two male celebrities each a pair of sunglasses in a promotional scene, while she worked there. at first, she thought one of them was burt reynolds, but he would've been too young back then, so maybe it was rock hudson. it's hard to remember celebrity names sometimes at any age, especially if you haven't seen their movies in a long time, if they're actors.
( helen mengel, left )
john heck told us that he had a goat named billy who followed him around on his family's farm as a pet before he went into manufacturing as an adult, once he wasn't a teenager anymore. the goat would sleepwalk as john pushed a plow on the fields, and sometimes billy walked and bumped right into john's one leg as he worked. for fun, john also fashioned billy's horns in yellow and green hues with paint he found in his family's barn, since he thought the color of the horns naturally just wasn't as exciting as what paint could offer.
and here are all of the six-poem sources together: from left—
erma merkel
at the end, pauline phillips turned to me, put her hand on my wrist, said, thank you for all of this, and winked at me with the most beautiful gratitude. life feels entirely magical, fulfilling, and just plain right in such moments with the seniors from this project.
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