Block City

When I was very young this book was given to me, in 1962, at 3 years old. Ummm.... by the wife of the person who hired my Dad to teach- coming out of my beginnings in Madison, Wisconsin (where we returned for him to do his PHD’s and then came back)- at West Virginia University, Mrs. Armentrout. She, also I am remembering, gave me the original books from The Sound of Music when it came out as a movie these were generated. Quite wonderful to grow up with these presents.

I looked exactly like the child on the cover here once. Exactly, which is why she gave it to me I think. I thought for years, and years, and years that it was me on the cover. Of course, making a fool of myself, sharing that tidbit in 1st grade- a habit I formed early on in life-then plummeting down the narcissism hill into the puddle of idiocy at the bottom of the fall. (My excuse is bolstered by my mom commenting she always told me it was me-bailing me out a little)

Just thought of this wonderful poetry collection yesterday on a very nice day.

And got it out of the depths of lost memories to find tonight. Tried to order it on Amazon and was sent the wrong book. Memorized the beautiful Robert Louis Stevenson poems when I was little, and loved the photographs in this book. Just for fun a while ago my daughter Sylvia recited them all to me, because when she memorizes it just stays. At 17 she's still got them all, while I'm just able now to recite Block City. When I say, "What am I able to build with my blocks? Castles..." anyway it always gets to me.

In 4th grade we memorized a poem a week and nothing "silly" (my teacher's words). I did Larkin, Stevenson, Hopkins, Shakespeare, Wordsworth poetry, and so many others, because Miss Dubois my teacher had a father in his 80's then who was Poet Laureate of the state of West Virginia, and we were doing that part of our literature right. I still believe frankly that stretching those memorizing capacities in children is one of the most meaningful things ever done. So I strongly encourage reading, re-reading, and diving into the sound of poetry. Memorization as a weekly ritual.

Those that struggle with the task can go later in the hour, or retake, or even finally read it (like written on your hand ha ha) but once you do this task as the weeks go by it becomes easier. Then amazingly it becomes enjoyable. And that never dies. You plant a gift with that. A real life-long gift. It’s the secret to everything. It really is.It is but you have to read either Robert or John Kennedy on why-I ran into that once and it stirred in me even greater thanks than I had for the expectations my teachers had for us.

For three year olds with a certain temperament R. L. Stevenson is the way to go. Later Treasure Island will thrill them again too. A couple poems every night then lights down, and it's just a lovely way to say good evening. Songs get you there too of course. My kids also read a few at sunset, my girls like poetry at sunset.

Despite all the fancy illustrated volumes, there are beautiful ones, I still far, far prefer the beautiful photographs in this book. Lovely black and White, nothing to match that. science I have not seen them in easily 38 years. So I just re-ordered this used. I'm looking so forward to giving this to my grand kids one day. That looks a little doubtful as one daughter is now going into science and has sworn NEVER to become involved with anyone to fulfill her lifelong ambitions and the other is 15 with a father that swears death to anyone who crosses her path before 30. Italian, well, Sicilian fathers are nothing to cross, and I think she is happy with thinking of her design and art plans...this leaves an 11 year old son and somehow I just know I'll never get along with his wife-so that means I'll need to read it to my 1st graders and be happy with that…ah well.

But I loved this book, and I know it to be a life long love.

Oh I can’t resist,

A Child's Garden of Verses (1885)
by
Robert Louis Stevenson

Block City

What are you able to build with your blocks?
Castles and palaces, temples and docks.
Rain may keep raining, and others go roam,
But I can be happy and building at home.

Let the sofa be mountains, the carpet be sea,
There I'll establish a city for me:
A kirk and a mill and a palace beside,
And a harbour as well where my vessels may ride.

Great is the palace with pillar and wall,
A sort of a tower on the top of it all,
And steps coming down in an orderly way
To where my toy vessels lie safe in the bay.

This one is sailing and that one is moored:
Hark to the song of the sailors aboard!
And see, on the steps of my palace, the kings
Coming and going with presents and things!

Yet as I saw it, I see it again,
The kirk and the palace, the ships and the men,
And as long as I live and where'er I may be,
I'll always remember my town by the sea.