LETTERS: 1989: 51 - 54

LETTERS: 1989: 51 – 54

51.

                                                                                                  January  21,  1989

Dear friend Singh,

Thank you for your Christmas greeting, with good wishes for me and my family.  I saw all three daughters—traveling by train to Ohio to visit Alis, the youngest and her husband, where she is for the first time teaching in a small college; stopping over in New York to visit Laura (the eldest) and her husband; and Susan (the middle one) and her husband drove here to see me and Olive, Amy’s sister, who is living now at the farmhouse just down the road from my house.  We meet every evening for dinner, then watch the news on TV and play a few hands of “pitch.” I am still busy on the political committee to rewrite the charter of Bennington.  My papers – including your important letters will be sent to the Poetry/Rare Books archives at the State University of Buffalo to become part of my record.  For me it has been a rewarding experience to have known you over the years during which life has changed much for us both.

                                                                                                  Yrs.

                                                                                                  Lyle G.

52.

                                                                                                  February 20,  1989

Dear Friend Singh,

Thank you for publishing my Hurston article in Creative Forum. I am glad to see  it in print in your magazine.  Dr. Thornton has telephoned from Albany to express his pleasure, also.  You went to a lot of trouble for us.

I am much better now than I was and hope to be traveling to see friends as soon as our cold weather is over.  I look out across frozen wetlands to mountains not yet leafed out; they are called the Green Mountains and will in a few months be as green as their name.

I am lucky to have my wife’s sister living in the next house down the road from me, in the great farmhouse where the two sisters were born.  Olive, Amy’s sister, is two years older than I. We have dinner together every night, either at my house or at hers. Old people alone don’t take as good care of themselves as old people who have somebody else to be with. Our evenings together are good for us both.

My good wishes to you and your family. 

                                                                                                  Yours,

                                                                                                  Lyle Glazier

53.

                                                                                                  July  21,  1989

Dear friend Singh,

I am so glad to hear from you, and thank you for the offprints, mine and Jerry Thornton’s poems.  It is good to know that CREATIVE FORUM still flourishes. I once wrote a book, never published (1960-61) CHAOS AND FORM. Your title rings for me a  similar nuance.

I am finally free from Bennington politics, happily because in the end, the chapter for the town reflects some of my thoughts: the Preamble:

 “The people of Bennington reaffirm faith in government of the people, by the people, for the people, and describe this faith in a charter with provision to review and amend;  The charter of Bennington reflects concern to improve the quality of life for all residents within limits taxpayers can afford.”

This would be only a public relations gambit unless the charter itself reflects the same commitment. It left the Commission with certain provisions that will have to be revised by the Selectmen, who seem to be adopting my suggestions for changes that will place the emphasis on serving all the people, rich and poor, instead of as US government has been drifting, nurturing chiefly the welfare of the well-to-do.

I have an invitation to write another series of poems and have started a work-in-progress  called for the moment “Poetry is concealment,”  the first line from VD #6.

                                                                                                  Your friend,

                                                                                                  Lyle Glazier

54.

                                                                                                  December 29, 1989

Dear friend Singh,

Your August letter has been here on my table, waiting this long. I had a busy September and October traveling to different places to read my poem AZUBAH NYE.  Not much energy left after preparing for the trips.  I enjoy the actual reading, but the prospect—looking ahead to it—has been taxing.  I am glad that is over.

I planned to be in Washington DC this week at the Modern Language Association annual meeting, but a bad throat Tuesday night kept me from going.  Now I think I will travel to New York City for overnight tomorrow to have New Year’s Eve dinner with my oldest daughter Laura and Roy.  My youngest Alis and Gerry were here for Christmas. 

I am supposed to be writing a new book of poems, but don’t get on with it.  I am glad as always to read your poems and know you are active and getting favorable reviews.

Like you, I have news of close friends dying. I lost two very close friends—one in August, one in November. I could not get to Buffalo for the memorial service  for one, the other—only 50 miles from here—I attended.  Both women, both dear.

My friend and young colleague at SUNY-Buffalo will be traveling throughout India lecturing on American Literature sometime this spring.  I enclose Howard Wolf’s itinerary, and perhaps you can find out from Delhi when he will come to Banaras if you can manage to go hear him.  He asks me to inform my friends, so someone friendly will greet him, but you are the only one who still corresponds with me from those days when we met in Banaras & Delhi.

I send you best wishes for the New Year, and for your wife and children, who, I realize, are getting less small every year.

                                                                                                  Yours,

                                                                                                  Lyle Glazier