“I am of old and young, of the foolish as much as the wise
— Walt Whitman, “Song of Myself,” 1892.
Regardless of others, ever regardful of others,
Maternal as well as paternal, a child as well as a man,
Stuff’d with the stuff that is coarse and stuff’d with the stuff that is fine,
One of the Nation of many nations,
the smallest the same and the largest the same,
A Southerner soon as a Northerner,
a planter nonchalant and hospitable down by the Oconee I live,
A Yankee bound my own way ready for trade,
my joints the limberest joints on earth and the sternest joints on earth,
A Kentuckian walking the vale of the Elkhorn in my deer-skin leggings,
a Louisianian or Georgian,
A boatman over lakes or bays or along coasts,
a Hoosier, Badger, Buckeye;
At home on Kanadian snow-shoes or up in the bush,
or with fishermen off Newfoundland,
At home in the fleet of ice-boats, sailing with the rest and tacking,
At home on the hills of Vermont or in the woods of Maine,
or the Texan ranch,
Comrade of Californians,
comrade of free North-Westerners, (loving their big proportions,)
Comrade of raftsmen and coalmen,
comrade of all who shake hands and welcome to drink and meat,
A learner with the simplest,
a teacher of the thoughtfullest,
A novice beginning
yet experient of myriads of seasons,
Of every hue and caste am I,
of every rank and religion,
A farmer, mechanic, artist,
gentleman, sailor, quaker,
Prisoner,
fancy-man,
rowdy,
lawyer,
physician,
priest.”
******************************
I’ll be back tomorrow with our weekend edition.
— Brenda
Banner image: Seattle fishermen mend their nets, 1914.