As you know, on Wednesday, I attended a memorial celebration of the life of my husband's closest friend, film and television producer, director, screenwriter, and poet, Bill Davidson.
Actually, Marty was the M.C. I sat with about 40 of Bill's nearest and dearest, including his wife Mary, his two daughters, Wendy and Ann, and his granddaughter, Tabitha.
Tabby chose to read several of her grandfather's poems from a little collection called "A Baker's Dozen," that he sent to a very select group about eight years ago. As it happens, we were among them.
I had read Bill's "things" as he called them at that time. They were enchanting, as I recall. Then Marty took them from me for safekeeping – I tend to misplace things – and stowed them in his office. I'd forgotten them, until Tabby started her charming recitation. One in particular stood out as being perfect for you.
And as November is such a dreary month, especially for teachers overwhelmed with end-of-term marking, I thought we could all use a little chuckle from our darling friend Bill.
Last evening I called Mary, and she gave me permission to post it.
I want you to know that Bill loved reading Coming Out Crazy, so I know he wouldn't mind my sharing one of his poems with you. He was a loyal member of our community.
First, these were written on a typewriter. A manual typewriter. You can tell, which makes them even more endearing. In his covering letter, he explained that he had written his poems at his cottage on Pig island near Whitefish Falls and Manitoulin Island, southwest of Sudbury. His motivation came from an old friend, retired Rutgers University psychology professor John L. Falk.
"We had been out of touch for over fifty years. To re-introduce himself, he sent me a classy, slim volume of poetry published here in Canada by Guernica Press.
"Apparently, during all his teaching years he had been writing poetry, over three thousand poems," Bill wrote in his covering letter, titled "Explanation" ... "For Sandy and Martin."
"I thought, why not just knock off some stuff that pops into my mind, for my own pleasure (and maybe for Mary, too) to entertain myself.
"Now, I did something else to get myself kickstarted. I didn't want to poke fun of John's book, but I wanted to clearly establish my imposter credentials, my colossal conceit in pretending to write a short book of poems (things). So I claimed to have a publisher, Howler Monkey Press, and even wrote a series of reviews of my own work for the back cover."
Indeed, the return address on the manilla envelope that we received was "From the publisher's office: Howler Monkey Press, Port Hope, Ontario – no address, no phone, no email, no fax, no anything."
Imagine a big man, a commanding presence at 6-ft, 2-inches, with a broad smile and sparkly blue eyes, perched on a rock on his island, his typewriter on his lap, pounding away at his poetry. He was blissfully unwired up there.
His covering letter ended:
"I said, why not share this wacky stuff with my dear friends, Martin and Sandy, and maybe, just maybe, brighten up their day with a few twinkly chuckles. Enjoy!
"WARNING: If too painful, take this stuff with Celebrex!"
Tabitha read several of her grandfather's creations. Here's the one I think you'll appreciate most, including a few of his "advance reviews and comments"...
"A stunning disaster. A tribute to man's folly. Beats the Titantic. Sank immediately after launching." – Rear Admiral Ahab, retired skipper, Toronto Island Ferry.
"Highly recommended for infants and toddlers. From the Hickory-Dickory-dock school of poetry. Pablum for the masses." – The Brothers Grimm, professors of pornography, Humpty Dumpty Institute.
"The work of a buffoon. Forgettable, but not forgivable. His movies weren't so hot either." – Crusty McNasty, entertainment critic, The Toronto Star Weekly.
At the Annual Convention: The Return of the Fairytale Shamen.
Based on an old English folk song.
These fellows, me thinks,
are rinky dink shrinks,
Willy Winky, Tom Cobly and all.
***
They're here to discuss
the probing of us,
Uncle Siggy, Pope Carl and all.
***
They peddle their pills
to cure all our ills,
Oedipus Rex, bad sex and all.
***
They stir up a gumbo
of cool mumbo jumbo,
bipolar, postpartum and all.
***
They unscramble our brains
for capital gains,
Lamberghinis, sunny condos and all.
***
It's buyer beware
at this sordid affair,
turkey niblits, juicy giblets and all.
***
They feed on our fear
they'll be back next year,
Goldilocks, Goosey Gander and all.
* FOOTNOTE: Proud to say, the fairytale shamen, good sports all, have asked Leonard Cohen to sing this rollicking folk song, during the opening banquet at next year's convention. If we wake him up in time. I need the royalties."
By the time Mary Davidson called me last night, I had already written another post. I'll save it for next week. It won't go stale. And I hope you don't mind this little detour from my usual harder focus on mental health and wellness.
Call it a "mental health day" post. A break from the routine. A non-medicinal bromide. This has been a very difficult week for us. I'm glad that I was able to end it on a light note, and especially to be able to share with you the magic that was Bill Davidson.
Speak soon and have a lovely and restful weekend. Be well and be good to yourselves. You deserve it!
I was recently, as an addition to my bipolar diagnosis, diagnosed with having asperger syndrome. It came as a huge surprise to me. I was NOT the person that I imagined a person with asperger to be like. In all due fairness I had imagined that someone with bipolar disorder to be different too.
I fell into distress. AND another depression. More medication proved too much for my liver and was discontinued. Then I met a man that guided me to a support group and with a great sense of humour it has become easier to accept. Among other things I was introduced to the most funny set of short stories, among them what could have been the local Asperger support group answering machine message ("the swiss army knife fan club is here and might answer the phone on wednesdays between 1.14 and 6.41 in the afternoon").
Humour is wonderful, allows self distance and coping. And laughter is healing. I'm sorry for your loss though. Death always comes untimely.
Posted by: Jessica | November 22, 2009 at 08:55 AM
Hi Jessica,
I am so sorry to hear that you're struggling with your diagnosis, but please remember that you are still the person you have always imagined yourself to be.
YOU ARE NOT YOUR DIAGNOSIS!
As for humour, I'm thrilled to hear that you've found a support group with a sense of humour. I would love to know the title of the short story collection to which you refer. It would be lovely to share it with everyone here at "Coming Out Crazy"! Would you let me know?
As for humour, you're so right. It's the best tonic in the world. For me, humour and being able to laugh, especially at myself, is a godsend. I couldn't cope without my sense of humour and my husband lives to make me laugh.
Finally, thank you for your kind condolences. I'll tell Marty about your thoughtfulness. We both truly appreciate it.
Take care and cheers,
sln
Posted by: Sandy Naiman | November 22, 2009 at 08:12 PM
The short stories are in another language but I'll translate the "answering machine message" for you.
The diagnosis does explain alot of things but since I've had Asperger all my life it is a part of my personality. I just thought everyone perceived the world as I do. Among other things I have a minor variant of what is called synethesia. It is a difficult concept to explain but mine involves seeing months, letters and numbers in colours and textures.
The neuropsychiatric testing was extensive but nothing was made out to be strange. They had just heard it all and in that way it was comforting although I was just exhausted after each occassion. For anyone to assume that it was a haphazard kind of business where they just yanked some stuff together and then came to say that I had Asperger, nothing could be farther from the truth. I am returning more and more now to how it was before but it was something of a shock. Asperger? no no no, I DON'T think so. But as the dust settles having a diagnosis turns into something helpful in your everyday life, I have always noticed some cognitive shortcomings such as bad memory. Time has always been a tricky concept to me, I arrive too early or too late.
After the diagnosis I have gotten some cognitive aids for my home such as timers and clocks and other cognitive aids. VERY useful. I wish more were known about these among health professionals. I am sure people with bipolar diagnosis etc., could benefit hugely from them as well. Now I have a medicine box that beeps at the appropriate time when I am to take the medication. Before it was a hassle to remember.
Posted by: Jessica | November 25, 2009 at 11:56 AM
Hi Jessica,
Please forgive my late response. I've been battling the flu, which seems to play "hide and seek" with me. I start feeling better, go back to work, get sick again. This is really silly.
Sometimes I think we are our own "normal" and if you see the world a little differently, so that's okay if you can live with it. It sounds like you are adapting but it also sounds like maybe, perhaps, it's possible that you may have synesthesia. I'm just surmising. I'm no diagnostician. It's just a suggestion.
Definition of Synesthesia from MedicineNet.com
"A condition in which normally separate senses are not separate. Sight may mingle with sound, taste with touch, etc. The senses are cross-wired. For example, when a digit-color synesthete sees or just thinks of a number, the number appears with a color film over it. A given number's color never changes; it appears every time with the number. Synesthesia can take many forms. A synesthete may sense the taste of chicken as a pointed object. Other synesthetes hear colors. Still others may have several senses cross-wired.
"Estimates of the frequency of synesthesia range from 1 in 250,000 to 1 in 2,000. People with synesthesia are 6 times more likely to be female than male. Most synesthetes find their unusual sensory abilities enjoyable.
"People with synesthesia often report that one or more of their family members also have synesthesia, so it may in at least some cases be an inherited condition.
"It may be that synesthesia arises when particular senses fail to become fully independent of one another during normal development. According to this school of thought, all babies are synesthetes. Synesthesia can be induced by certain hallucinogenic drugs and can also occur in some types of seizure disorders.
"The word synesthesia is a hybrid of Latin and Greek - the Latin syn- (together) + -esthesia, from the Greek aisthesis (sensation or perception)."
Here's another link:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Synesthesia
As I understand it, that's not a psychiatric disorder, but a rare brain condition. It's the way you perceive. They way you were born. You are not alone. I saw an item about Synesthesia on the July 12, 2009 episode of CBS "Sunday Morning". I couldn't find that segment – there's no archives that I could find, but I found many other interesting links. There's tons of stuff if you "google" – synesthesia
Here's another CBS News story, an older one:
http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2002/01/08/60II/main323596.shtml
I wonder. Maybe you should investigate. Just a thought.
Keep doing whatever you're doing if it helps you. But perhaps this might be a link to another way of considering your condition. Trust yourself. You know your mind, brain, and the way you perceive more accurately than any doctor. "Know thyself," Descartes says. Sounds like you know yourself well. "Trust yourself, too!"
Try to forget about the labels if you possibly can. They are categories. People don't belong in categories. They're labels. Labels are for jars, not people.
We're all human beings. We're all unique. We're all special. We're all equal. We all perceive the world a little differently. In some cases a little more differently. But I repeat, depending on our unique genetic make up, environments, experiences, and so many other factors, you are exquisitely "you" and there's no one else quite like you. We all perceive our worlds and the world differently.
At least, that's how I see things. Just something to think about or consider. That's all.
Good luck.
Cheers,
sln
Posted by: Sandy Naiman | December 01, 2009 at 11:55 PM