Sum'thin about A Shadow...

James Ballard

LHS '64

...OK.

So I'm walk'in around town a lot lately, and 'ner a time passes when I don't ever notice my shadow...either creep'in up on me like some lost mongrel, or jump'in up in front of me, like it wants me to race home with it.

Should I get all heady about this ? Like Carl Jung, in one of his passing moments of hysteria : "The shadow is a living part of the personality and therefore wants to live with in some form..."

Oh yeah…"and therefore"... huh ?

Poor Jung. Not having the benefit of my good counsel, I could've told him he was projecting...(Don't get me wrong. I do love Jung; he was mostly smart, but you gotta cut him some slack, considering his mentor, who was crazier...)

So no. Your shadow can be weird, but not on its own. But it does give you pause sometimes.

The term "shadow" goes a long way back.

By that reason alone, I can't claim any originality when there are centuries of countless speculations, tomes of dubious ponderings...and philosophers wildly gesticulating over the metaphysical/existential/metaphorical word play about our shadow...

Nope.

Keep it simple :

Our shadow is an obstruction.

It tries to hide the sun. Of course it always fails to hide the sun. But artists have a field day over it.

I certainly have. I've used both shadow and light countless times; without it, you can't really claim to be an artist. Not on my block, anyway.

Photographers use it. Filmmakers revel by it. Stage managers manipulate it. Writers try to it describe it, using it like some grand metaphor that's only as good as the writer is...It can make for some tedious writing, unless, of course, you're Shakespeare…or maybe…Emily…

Yeah. “Out, out, brief candle ! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more”.

We all know it. And I never grow weary of Shakespeare, and I will never pretend that I could match the old Bard, (whomsoever he was...), and no one else should pretend they can match him either !

But today I happened to glance down over a large man-made water drain the city constructed some time ago.

And voila ! There was my shadow. In sharp contrast, lying upon an old city concrete edifice, just screaming out at me, making demands. Making the memories flood, spawning metaphors and near forgotten history...

Challenging me to be inspirational for a change.

My shadow was pointing back to me, and bringing a rush of the old times I've spent in Huntsville and this town I used to know, but no one would recognize now.

Whenever I pass this old drainage system it somehow reminds me of an old swamp somewhere in West Huntsville that an old school chum, Malcolm Lowery, and I used to frequent, looking for tadpoles and gathering up jars of swamp water to view under my microscope...We were ten years old.

My mother didn't much cotton to my bringing home jars of swamp-water and sitting them atop my bedroom desk...

"Strictly educational Ma...That's all"...

It was risky. Trying to fool my mother would've been a danger to my normal physical well-being. A fool's errand. Somehow she accepted it when she saw what Malcolm & I were doing...Seeing those one-celled creepy creatures, swirling around and dancing under the microscope was a wonder to behold; we were never bored, my friends and I.

And I've made a lifetime habit of never being bored. Not as easy as some might think.

So how is it that the shadow we cast makes us all heady and prone to wax prose and poetry ?…It’s no surprise, really, when you consider it’s ancient and dark etymology, and obvious association with death.

The shadow dwells, always, within the deepest interstices of our psyches because, more recently, the Romantic Movement of the 19th century told us to place it there.

And what better way, I say, to pay homage to our long dead ancestors, lending them a sort of poetic dignity, because they’re never coming back.

They are never coming back.

 Joel’s Memory Painting

Beth Weinbaum

LHS '65

Joel Weinbaum mentioned the other day that you might enjoy seeing this original mixed media painting that I had done for him by Sloane Bibb based on his years at Lee High School, in the U. S. Navy, and also with his friends in Huntsville with their motor bikes and times at Zesto, one of our fun gathering places. 

The 1947 Huntsville Telephone Directory

This week we look back at the 1947 Telephone Directory - the birth year of many of our Class of '65 schoolmates. My family still lived on 9th Avenue. One part of the directory gives us some guidance on using a party line. I also noted my father was listed as "Towry" without the "e" that was added to the name before I started to learn to write.

Click the text below to go to the phonebook:

The Wayback Machine

The Wayback Machine takes us back to our English Literature Class, and one of the poets we learned about. 

"There's a Certain Slant of Light" is a lyrical poem written by the American poet Emily Dickinson (December 10, 1830 – May 15, 1886). The poem's speaker likens winter sunlight to cathedral music, and considers the spiritual effects of the light. Themes of religion and death are present in the poem, especially in connection to the theological concept of despair

Submitted by James Ballard

Emily Dickinson is the only poet I’ve ever read that comes close to besting The Tudor Bard. Just one line from this lady can send me into metaphysical catalepsy. That land from which I never wish to return, but somehow I regrettably slip back unto planet Earth. My toast to Emily. She has no betters in our world.

"There's a Certain Slant of Light"

There's a certain Slant of light,

Winter Afternoons –

That oppresses, like the Heft

Of Cathedral Tunes –

Heavenly Hurt, it gives us –

We can find no scar,

But internal difference,

Where the Meanings, are –

None may teach it – Any –

'Tis the Seal Despair –

An imperial affliction

Sent us of the Air –

When it comes, the Landscape listens –

Shadows – hold their breath –

When it goes, 'tis like the Distance

On the look of Death –”

This week's issue is a unique one, to say the least. I am delighted that a couple of our classmates submitted some items to share with the rest of the readers. Both cover areas to which I do not have access. Please feel free to submit some of your own thoughts.

Last Week's Questions, Answers, And Comments

Charlie Freeman, LHS ‘66, "Phil McDonald (LHS 66)and I helped Eddie start his first "garage band. We did a TV "on camera"commercial on WAAY Channel 31 around 1963-64. The commercial was for Monroe-McKnight printing company. Eddie's mother Marie, a printing employee there, got the opportunity for us and Eddie wrote the lyrics for the ad.  A great guy who left us too soon!"

Jim McBride, LHS ‘'65, "I didn't know Eddie Burton during our years at Lee High School. Even though we were both in Nashville at the same time, our paths never crossed. I regret that. It wasn't until Eddie moved to Florida we finally became friends on Facebook. I always enjoyed our conversations. He was, no doubt,  a great guy in every respect. I know this, he made his living doing what he loved. He was a talented musician and songwriter who made a place for himself in a tough business. Moreover, I know he was respected by his peers, not only for his talent but for the man he was. I believe he did himself and his family proud.R.I.P. Eddie. I wish I had known you better."