{"id":1432,"date":"2008-09-05T00:01:36","date_gmt":"2008-09-05T06:01:36","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/?p=1432"},"modified":"2008-09-05T00:03:14","modified_gmt":"2008-09-05T06:03:14","slug":"poetry-friday-brewin-the-blues","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/?p=1432","title":{"rendered":"Poetry Friday: Brewin’ the Blues"},"content":{"rendered":"

When I worked as an educational sign language interpreter, I can’t tell you how many classes I interpreted at the college level — even the graduate and post-doctoral level (not because I’d have to kill you if I told you, but because it seems like I did a lot). One of them was a Women’s Studies course, and I remember the students had to give presentations on the life of a famous woman (I’m sure the assignment was more complicated than that, but I don’t remember the hand-flapping details of that one). One student presented on the life of Billie Holiday, and I remember thinking: Damn.<\/em> She had it bad. Reeeeeal<\/em> bad. Raped at the age of ten, frequent visits to a Catholic reform school and a mother who could hardly take care of her, a hard drug addiction, jailed on drug charges, relationships with abusive men, and much more. <\/p>\n

But that’s not much to remember. Hey, you take your Latin courses, your Epidemiology, your Theatre History, your Anatomy, your Sports Psychology, and your Trig—all of which I interpreted plus some—and you forget the details. But I do<\/em> remember thinking, I’ve GOT to get a good biography on Billie<\/em>, whose music I’ve always lurved. <\/p>\n

Lucky for me, the insanely talented poet and children’s book author Carole Boston Weatherford<\/strong><\/a> has just written what she calls a fictional verse memoir of Billie’s life, Becoming Billie Holiday<\/strong><\/a><\/em> (Boyds Mills Press\/Wordsong, October 2008), Weatherford’s young adult book debut with illustrations from Floyd Cooper<\/strong><\/a>. <\/p>\n

I’m not done with this book. For that reason—as well as the fact that, honestly, I have a work deadline looming and don’t have the time for a Poetry Friday post that even pretends<\/em> to be lengthy—I’m not going to go into thoughtful analysis of this title. But I’m going to share a poem from it. Readers who pick up Weatherford’s book will note that the titles for each entry come from Holiday songs. As the review at TeenReadsToo.com notes, “{a} biography written in verse seems only appropriate for a woman who lived her life in song — whose only reliable escape was via music.” (Here<\/strong><\/a> is the review from The Brown Bookshelf<\/em> as well.)<\/p>\n

I love this entry, Billie’s response (as a young girl) to hearing the blues: <\/p>\n

“I Hear Music: The Blues Are Brewin'”<\/p>\n

I was no stranger to hard work,
\nand Miss Alice had plenty of it
\nin her good-time house.
\nI kept busy with errands and chores—<\/p>\n

washing basins and toilets,
\nchanging towels, putting out
\nLifebuoy soap, and peeking through
\na keyhole now and then.<\/p>\n

I got paid in tips
\nbut would have worked for free
\nto wind up her Victrola
\nand hear music fill the room.<\/p>\n

As Bessie Smith belted out
\nbar after bar, bending notes
\nto moods, I mouthed the words
\ntill I knew her blues by heart.<\/p>\n

The jazz bug bit me good
\nwhen Louis Armstrong and his Hot Five
\nswaggered through “West End Blues”
\nand turned music on its ear.<\/p>\n

I had never heard
\nsinging without a single word.
\nScat! Dig that!
\nThose blues sure were brewin’.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

And dig this<\/em>: Here’s Louis + Billie brewin’ those blues (though I wish it didn’t end abruptly)…<\/p>\n

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And just ’cause this is so stunning and moving I almost can’t stand it, Billie performing “Strange Fruit”:<\/p>\n

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And bonus: Check out Frank O’Hara’s haunting “The Day the Lady Died.”<\/strong><\/a> <\/p>\n

The incomparable and honorable Elaine Magliaro is handling the round-up today over at Wild Rose Reader<\/strong><\/em><\/a>. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

When I worked as an educational sign language interpreter, I can’t tell you how many classes I interpreted at the college level — even the graduate and post-doctoral level (not because I’d have to kill you if I told you, but because it seems like I did a lot). One of them was a Women’s […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[11],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1432","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poetry-friday"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1432","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1432"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1432\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1432"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1432"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1432"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}