Playing "House" with Ginny (Memoir)

When I was six, I was given cowboy boots for my birthday. I had a strong interest in cowboy boots, and in everything else cowboy. I admired the new boots greatly. Apparently one of the neighbor girls, Ginny Bailey, also admired them. So much so, in fact, that she seduced me into playing "house" with her in the Cornell family's playhouse, a playhouse no longer used for its original purpose, since the Cornell girls were now all young adults.

I don't know how it is now, but in those days without electronic devices, little boys usually played "war," or "bombs over Tokyo," or attached toy soldiers to handkerchief parachutes and tossed them into the air. Little girls, on the other hand, played with dolls or, especially if they could snag a boy to play it with them, played "house."

Now, playing "house" frequently tended to have sexual overtones. In fact, it was often similar to playing "doctor," which I believe I had also played, when "war" was not available.

Anyway, Ginny persuaded me to go into the disused playhouse with her, which was a very private place. Ginny laid back on some kind of bench or something, and, without further ado, pulled down her panties and showed me her still-unfurred little treasure. I was sure that all this was happening because she admired my cowboy boots. Then she said "cackle my duper."

I knew what Ginny meant by "duper," though I had never heard the word before, because she pointed to it. But I was flummoxed by "cackle." I thought it might be something like "tickle," but I was pretty sure that it must have something to do with my new cowboy boots.

I decided to wing it. Slowly and ceremoniously, I lifted my right foot, and gently placed the instep of my new boot on her duper.

Strangely, this seemed to satisfy her for the moment. At that point, I think I told Ginny that I had to go.

I think Ginny must have actually liked me, apart from the boots, because in succeeding years she asked, more than once, to dance with her. She always wanted to dance the "Virginia Reel," which had, no doubt, been named after her.

I have no idea whether Ginny is still on the planet. If she is, and happens to read this, I hope she gets a chuckle out of it. I have nothing but respect for her.

Text © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler.

Good morning/afternoon/evening/night / Bonjour matin / après-midi / soir / nuit

Good morning/afternoon/evening/night, whatever it is where you are, and greetings from sunny Florida. By now you know who I am: poet, translator, photographer, naturist, feminist, lover of language and languages, and, sometimes, curmudgeon. I wear whatever hat is needed at the time, and not much else. I am 76 years old (soon to be 77), married (for 40 years, to the same woman) and retired. I was one of the Hippies of the Summer of Love (1967) in San Francisco's Haight-Ashbury district. I am 4% Native American (Cherokee), 25% Jewish, mostly European, and 100% human. I care about many things, including spirituality and social justice.

With a background like that, you are bound to get diverse content in this blog. The blog has existed since October 2016, so it is almost three years old. In that time the entries in the blog have had more than 67,000 visits, from almost every country in the world. The communication, though is almost entirely one-way. I write to please myself, according to my interests and whatever is on my mind at the time. I would love, though, to have input from my readers. If you have suggestions, criticisms, or whatever, you can send them to me via email (exolinguist at gmail dot com). Or, simply write a comment directly in any blog entry. Thanks.

Bonjour matin / après-midi / soir / nuit, ce qu'il soit où vous vous trouvez et salutations de la Floride ensoleillée. Vous déja savez qui je suis: poète, traducteur, photographe, naturiste, féministe, amoureux de la langue et des langues et, parfois, curmudgeon (bourru). Je porte le chapeau dont on a besoin à l'époque et pas grand chose d'autre. J'ai 76 ans (bientôt 77 ans), marié (depuis 40 ans avec la même femme) et à la retraite. J'étais l'un des hippies de l'été de l'amour (1967) dans le district de Haight-Ashbury à San Francisco. Je suis 4% d'Amérindiens (Cherokee), 25% de Juifs, principalement européens et 100% humains. Je tiens à beaucoup de choses, y compris la spiritualité et la justice sociale.

Avec un tel contexte, vous aurez forcément accès à un contenu diversifié sur ce blog. Le blog existe depuis octobre 2016, il a donc presque trois ans. Durant cette période, les entrées du blog ont reçu plus de 67 000 visites, en provenance de presque tous les pays du monde. La communication, cependant, est presque entièrement à sens unique. J'écris pour me faire plaisir, en fonction de mes intérêts et de tout ce qui me préoccupe à l'époque. J'aimerais cependant avoir l'avis de mes lecteurs. Si vous avez des suggestions, des critiques ou autre chose, vous pouvez me les envoyer par courrier électronique (exolinguist at gmail dot com). Ou simplement, écrivez un commentaire directement dans une entrée de blog. Merci.

Text and image © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler.

The Map of Desire / La carte du désir

The map of desire is long and lean,
it follows us like a robot machine.
The sun rises and sets on its peaks and valleys,
never reaching into its lonely alleys.
Give it enough to keep it alive,
and allow the soul within to thrive.

La carte du désir est longue et maigre,
cela nous suit comme une machine robotisée.
Le soleil se lève et se couche sur ses pics et ses vallées,
ne jamais atteindre ses ruelles solitaires.
Donnez-le assez pour le garder en vie,
et permettez à l'âme intérieure de prospérer.

Text and image © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler.

Thoughts on the "Hail Mary" (Ave Maria)

Some of you know that at night I keep a notebook beside my bed. I record in it snippets of dreams and other things that come to me. Twice recently, words from the "Hail Mary" prayer have come to me in that way. Now, I would like it to be clear that, although I was raised Catholic, I do not practice that religion or any other. I am, though, a respecter of all religions, to the extent that they deserve it. I should also confess that, after high school, I spent two and a half months in a Jesuit novitiate, where we recited the Rosary, including the Hail Mary, in Latin, every day. Sometimes we barely had time to squeeze it in, so we had to say those Latin words very fast.

Be that as it may, I do not think that I have said either a Rosary or a Hail Mary in the last 57 years. I do not know why the words would come to me in a dream, or what it could mean, if anything. But I am a respecter of dreams and other things that come to us in the sleep state, so I did a little research.

Only the first part of the Hail Mary/Ave Maria prayer has a scriptural basis. That basis is in Lk I:28 and Lk I:42. In my edition of the Vulgate, we have these words:

have gratia plena  Dominus tecum
benedicta tu in mulieribus . . .
et benedictus fructus ventris tui

In English: Hail, full of grace, the Lord is (or be) with you.
Blessed are you among women . . .
and blessed is the fruit of your womb.

After this come the Magnificat, a beautiful passage that is, for the most part, a mosaic of lines from the Psalms. I will have more to say about that beautiful passage on another occasion.

What I have quoted above is the scriptural basis for the "Hail Mary" prayer. The prayer, unlike Luke's Gospel, includes the names of Mary and Jesus.

But since the sixteenth century the "Hail Mary" has had a second part, which is the following sentence:

sancta maria mater Dei ora pro nobis peccatoribus nunc et in hora mortis nostrae

English: Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death.

This "second part" of the "Hail Mary" prayer does not have a scriptural basis. I find it interesting that, while I was saying those words in Latin in the novitiate, I always thought of the "second part" as somehow separate. As it turns out, there is no evidence for the added sentence before at least 1514. Some attribute the added words to Peter Canisius, a Dutch Jesuit who lived from 1521 to 1597, but this is not certain.

Even in the seminary, certain things about the "second part" of the prayer bothered me. First, the phrase "mother of God" did not sit very well with me. I now know that Jesus (Rabbi Yeshua) never claimed to be God. No Jew would. It would be the worst form of blasphemy. Secondly, to have Mary praying for us, interceding for us with the (male, of course) Deity, robs her of any power of her own. There are few women of prominence in the New Testament, and to demote and diminish one of them after 1500 years seems to me a crime against her and against all women.

Thirdly, to think of us humans primarily as sinners strikes me as medieval and bad psychology. The idea of Original Sin, which colored all Christian thinking in the Middle Ages, was popularized by Augustine of Hippo in about 400 CE. Such negative thinking about humans becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. I am, rather, a partisan of Matthew Fox's concept of Original Blessing, believing that it will lead us to better results.

In 1960, when I was reciting those Latin words and feeling twinges of discomfort about the "second part," I was not yet consciously a feminist. But I have consciously been one for almost forty-five years, and I will not accept the subtly nefarious actions of the Patriarchy just because the title "Saint" is affixed to the names of the perpetrators. If this makes me a heretic, then so be it.

Text © 2019 by Donald C. Traxler.

If You Wish to Know Me / Si vous voulez me connaître / ᎢᏳᏃ ᏂᎯ ᎠᏚᎳᏓᏎ ᎤᏅᏘ ᎠᏴ

If you wish to know me,
you must know me
without clothes--
that is the real me,
universal and free,
and without pretensions.

Si vous voulez me connaître,
vous devez me connaître
sans vêtement--
c'est le vrai moi,
universel et libre,
et sans prétentions.

iyuno nihi aduladase unvti ayv,
nihi ase unvti ayv dinuwo nutloyasdvna--
na gesvase udohiyu ayv,
igvwanadalegi ale adudalesda,
ale atselvdodi nutloyasdvna.

ᎢᏳᏃ ᏂᎯ ᎠᏚᎳᏓᏎ ᎤᏅᏘ ᎠᏴ,
ᏂᎯ ᎠᏎ ᎤᏅᏘ ᎠᏴ ᏗᏄᏬ ᏄᏠᏯᏍᏛᎾ--
Ꮎ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎤᏙᎯᏳ ᎠᏴ,
ᎢᎬᏩᎾᏓᎴᎩ ᎠᎴ ᎠᏚᏓᎴᏍᏓ,
ᎠᎴ ᎠᏤᎸᏙᏗ ᏄᏠᏯᏍᏛᎾ.

Text and image © 2019 by Donald C. Traxler ꮨᏺꭽꮅ.

An Explanation / Une explication

Why am I naked in so many of my photographs? Am I an exhibitionist? No, not at all. This is me, and this is the way I live. I am a naturist, and my house, my sunroom, and my backyard, which is complete with privacy forest, are my little naturist empire. I don't have to go anywhere else. I live in Florida, where the temperature does not require clothes. This is how I'm the healthiest and the happiest. That's it; end of story.

Pourquoi suis-je nu dans un si grand nombre de mes photographies? Suis-je un exhibitionniste? Non, pas du tout. C'est moi et c'est comme ça que je vis. Je suis naturiste et ma maison, ma véranda et mon jardin, qui comprend une mini-forêt pour l'intimité, constituent mon petit empire naturiste. Je ne dois aller nulle part ailleurs. J'habite en Floride, où la température ne nécessite pas de vêtements. C'est comme ça que je suis le plus en santé et le plus heureux. C'est tout; fin de l'histoire.

Text and image © 2019 by Donald C. Traxler.

67,000 Visits, and a Dozen Roses

As I write this, we are on the cusp of 67,000 visits to this poetry blog. The strange title of this blog entry is a reference to Eighteen Wheels and a Dozen Roses, a country song from the 1980s, made popular by singer Kathy Mattea. Roses are a symbolic way to show one's appreciation, and that's just what I want to do at this time.

This poetry blog has been in existence for a little less than three years, and I would call it a resounding success. We have had visitors from most countries of the world, and from every continent except Antartica. Maybe we'll get that one, too.

So what I really want to say right now is "thank you." Also merci, gracias, todah, dankon, etc. You have made the blog the success that it is.

Wadó. ꮹꮩ.

Text © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler. Photo credit: Fergus McCarthy, Midleton, Ireland.