Stray Poetry

Brooding and dark, these roses were lit only from behind through a red satin drop (this gives them the silhouette look.) I like the texture of the background (upper right) it looks like a rapid river of blood.

This Photo was taken with my trusty Nikon D70; hand-held with no flash, and rear ambient light. The borders and wording were done in Paint Shop Pro XI.

-Ezra Hilyer

Without a car at the moment, I am cycling to work and back everyday. It is about 20 miles from Ludlow, to Warren, and I have been making that trip on my Specialized bike nearly every day, in less than three weeks I feel better fit than I have in a few years. And though I expect that we will have another car on the road soon; I don’t plan to give my obsessive riding up. Not until the blowing snow forces me to re-consider will I relent and give it up for the season.

There is something liberating to be free (for a time) from the tyranny of high prices at the pumps. True, I can’t carry a whole lot on my back, and strapped to the bike, but hey, how much stuff do I really need to carry everyday? I take my pack, with computer and some writing materials in it, but little else. Sometimes my camera; often a rain jacket and a change of clothes.

Northwestern PA is not the best place to rely year-round on cycling for transportation, but in warmer climes, the only weather to defeat is rain. Unpleasant though it is; riding in the rain is made tolerable with a lightweight parka, or poncho. I did it just a few days ago, I rode nearly the full 20 miles in rain. Sometimes only a sprinkle, but more often it was brisk rain. Most of the trouble I had was the drops covering my glasses, which made me stop every 3 or 4 miles to clean.

I would do it again, no problem there. Perhaps I would wish to add fenders to my bike to keep the tires from throwing muddy wet on my clothes, but beyond that, I wouldn’t change anything.

A little rain never hurt anyone.

-Ezra Hilyer

Into The Wild, by John Krakauer was a short read, it doesn’t take a lot of room on the shelf, but there are treasures within that belay it’s small size.

A friend recommended the book to me about a year ago, and gave me a short synopsis of the story. I remember it well, because I had just finished reading ‘Between A Rock And A Hard Place’ by Aron Ralston, and I was telling my friend about it. He immediately told me that I would like ‘Into the Wild’. Now, nearly a year later I find it in the used section of a local favorite bookseller.

It is not a glorification of a man who failed, it is not overly critical, nor is it unemotional. Rather, it is the oft questioning watcher, written by a man who never met his subject, but who somehow connects to Christopher McCandless. Told in muse, and memory, by those who knew him, and those who think that they did, stitched together by the ponderings of the author and quotations from thoraeu and others, it brings one down to the place where understanding why a well educated young man would up and abandon every vestige of society and live a vagabond existence in Alaska.

The debate that raged over McCandless demise is secondary to the passions that drove him, and the side story of his impact upon those he came into contact with along the way. I wonder what would have happened to him had he lived though his ‘Great Alaska Adventure’ and returned (as he apparently planned) to society. Would he be known - some ten+ years later as another wilderness wanderer turned writer? (Another Peter Jenkins perhaps.)

Unknown to me at the time of purchase/reading; a movie of the same title is coming out this fall. ‘Inspired by the true story’ is the tag line, I have little doubt that the silver screen version will take liberties with the storyline. Probably weaving romance through it, as only Hollywood can do. Once ‘Into the Wild’ is released in September, a surge of book sales will ensue. But I hope that the movie doesn’t ruin the story. It is not a grand and great adventure, this is fundamentally a tragedy. This was an intelligent and caring young man, he went into the wild one day, and simply never came back.

I would have liked to meet Chris, I think he would have had interesting conversations, and though we would disagree about a great many things, I think in the end we would have been friends. I too feel the wanderlust urge from time to time, but like most, I seldom really venture far from the world. I keep close to electricity and internal combustion engines. Some days I wonder what kind of changes an adventure like the 2 year tramp that McCandless embarked on would yield in my life. I am far too comfortable in my 21st century existence. In that thought; I give a hearty hey-ho to Chris’s ideals and adventuresome spirit.

Read the book, and failing that: watch the movie, then read the book.

- Ezra J. Hilyer

    I saw an old red leather bound book in the .25 section of a local Book sellers’ rack. The published date was 1907, and the title: Little Rivers by Henry Van Dyke.

It was in rough shape, the edges were torn, the cover was held on with a rubber band. It was a small book, once bound in red leather, with gold gilt lettering. I thumbed the cover open, and found this inscription: “Essays on profitable idleness”  That cinched it for me, and since $0.25 is  not much to gamble on a good book; I bought it (along with a Latin reader, and one of Fredrick Nietzsche’s works.)

Henry van Dyke (1852-1933) was an American clergyman, (Presbyterian) Ambassador and  Author. Though much of his works are related to his work, this little gem is not. It tells of his fishing trips in Europe and in New-England, and Canada. With a few pieces of outdoor poetry thrown in for good measure. I made the point of reading outdoors, it reminded me of my childhood, and it inspired in me a lust of the wild.

The english is a bit dated, but that is due to it;s age. But that can be a shining point. Van Dyke uses the language to bring the reader down to the stream where he is casting his rod. But this is not just a book about fishing; no, there are many tid-bits of  wisdom woven though the narrative. I particularly like this one:

    There is such a thing as taking ourselves too seriously, or at any rate, too anxiously. Half the secular unrest and dismal, profane sadness of modern society comes from the vain idea that every man is bound to be a critic of life, and to let no day pass without finding some fault with the general order of things, or projecting some plan for it’s improvement. -Henry Van Dyke

    I have a thing for old books, something about the idea that this book went though 100 years of history is intriguing to me. I wonder who held it, how many people read it, what influence it had on the lives of it’s owner..

     I would recomend it for the outdoors person, it is worth the read. My copy is available for trade, if you cannot find one yourself.

-Ezra

I took this photo a few months ago; ‘Aria’ (our little yorkie pup) was playing on the rug, and looking cute. So I chased her around with the camera to get this shot. As you can see, her ears are still floppy (now they are straight and rigid.)

If you would like a print please Email me.