As my eighth book rolls off the press, I fondly remember my first book.
Windsor, Donald A. From the Green Shingle to the Romine Ailanthus.
New York, NY: Vantage Press. 1969. 125 pages.
This book of poetry was published so that I would go into a mean lawsuit absolutely broke. My reasoning was based on an old admonition that "you cannot get blood out of a turnip". If I had no money, no one would be able to take any from me.
All through grad school (1959-1966) I would end most days by writing free verse poetry. After spending long days in classes, or seminars, or out in the field, or in a lab, I would finally relax by writing down whatever rambled through my overworked mind. I love to play with words by mixing them up in different ways just to enjoy the arrangements.
When my first wife was suing me after our divorce, her lawyer stood up, pointed an accusatory finger at me, and bellowed, "I will get every penny you have!"
The solution was obvious to me -- have no money. I took all my money and contacted a vanity press to have my poems published. I even borrowed $300.00 from the bank to go into debt. Poorer than poor, I became. I then threatened the lawyer by indicating I would quit my job and return to school. The lawyer dropped the case and I was off that hook, only to then possess several hundred books and a loan to pay back. Alas, the bitter price I had to pay for escaping.
The title of this book derives from two memorable places I lived near the University of Illinois campus. The first was an old house with shingles painted a dark green. The elderly landlady lived on the first floor and three of us lived on the second floor. We were all veterans on the GI Bill and serious students. We enjoyed arguing religion and politics. My halcyon days were spent in what we fondly called the Green Shingle.
When my GI Bill expired, I ran out of money. I could no longer pay the rent. Fortunately, I had to spend a summer at the Friday Harbor marine station in Puget Sound to fulfill our department's requirement. When I returned at the end of summer, the Green Shingle was vacant. My roommate had moved my meager belongings to another apartment.
When he graduated, I moved to an upstairs apartment on Romine Avenue. By then I had obtained a research fellowship and had more money. This was a beautiful apartment, with plenty of windows. This was the most elegant and comfortable apartment I ever had. Outside of every window was an Ailanthus, also called Tree of Heaven. Thus the name in my book title, Romine Ailanthus.
Unfortunately, I got married and had to move out of the Romine Avenue apartment. The end of bachelorhood brought the end of an era of concentrated dedication to intellectual pursuits. I would not be able to return for the ensuing three decades.
So, my first book stands as a printed record of my poems during a period in my life as a grad student. The publisher's editing and marketing of the book were woefully inadequate. My original purpose of evading a hostile lawyer was a triumph. The book was not. Nevertheless, I am stuck with it.
As a scientist, I strive to describe reality. As a poet, I strive to describe my reaction to reality.
From the Green Shingle to the Romine Ailanthus does exactly that.
From the Green Shingle to the Romine Ailanthus does exactly that.
Blog # 4
