Tag: Irony

Poetry vs Power

Dear Liza,

Your great grandma, Billie Evans, read a lot of poems. Those that she really loved, she memorized. “So I could always have them with me,” she said.

“Ozymandias”, by Percy Shelly, was one of those. She loved the description of the great sculpture, now in ruins, in the middle of a desolate land. Mostly, she loved the twist at the end. Have a read, then I’ll give you an update on the Big Man himself.

Ozymandias 

BY PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

I met a traveller from an antique land,

Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,

Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;

And on the pedestal, these words appear:

My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;

Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

Shelly wrote the poem in 1818, when Europe was fascinated with ancient Egypt after Napoleon’s army there brought back bits and pieces of the crumbled civilization. Broken chunks of mighty statues were all that was left. Shelly saw the futile and fleeting nature of power, and gave his take on it.

All this came to mind this morning because of two stories in the news.

Archeologists in Egypt have found what appears to be the top half of the statue of Ozymandias (also called Ramses II, the pharaoh named in Exodus), the same statue that inspired Shelly.

I’m thinking about this while watching the news about claims of “absolute immunity.” I love that Ramses II is still broken and that Shelly’s poem is still wonderful. Poetry outlasts Power.

Love,

Grandma Judy

Being Neighborly

Dear Liza,

Last night we had a patio party with a few of our neighbors. With each household staying in our own little yard and safely distanced from each other, we had some wine, cake, and much needed conversation.

My newly-retired feet, a few Summers ago

This was remarkable. I know it shouldn’t have been, but it was. When I was growing up, everyone on the street knew everyone else. We knew what grades their kids were in and which dogs were friendly. But since moving to Portland, we have stayed mostly to ourselves, or just sitting on our nice balcony.

The Courtyard in Fall

Our neighbors are all younger than us, folks who work demanding jobs that keep them inside their houses or away at work for long hours. The lock down has kept them from working so much, and has freed them up. So after Grandpa Nelson mentioned that one of our neighbors seemed a little cabin-feverish, I sent an email, and voila, a party ensued.

Paperwhites enjoying the view in Winter

Our courtyard is pretty any time of the year, and especially nice in spring. The wisteria at the end is starting to green up, but isn’t blooming yet, but the dogwoods and camellias are showing their colors.

We sat and talked, sharing life histories and funny stories. One neighbor who is a surgical nurse gave us the inside scoop on how things are inside the Portland hospitals. (“Amazingly, not too bad,” she said.)

After a few hours, and with one fellow needing to leave to join a “Virtual Happy Hour” with colleagues, we exchanged emails for later meet ups.

We took our folding chairs inside and thought about how ironic it was that what finally got us out to meet our neighbors was…. being told we had to stay inside.

Life is funny that way, I guess.

Love,

Grandma Judy