69° and Clear
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by Jane Stahl
"Bobbie" Burns' poem has been comforting often throughout my life whenever significant lifetime dreams were crushed, when plans I'd worked hard to actualize, and when events I anticipated with enthusiasm did not bring "promised joy." The poem reminded me that I'm not alone in the despair of disappointment. In addition, John Steinbeck's powerful presentation of the conflicts George and Lenny experience in his novel Of Mice and Men provide poignant examples from a human perspective. Life is tough.
Plus, the poem always reminded me of an experience I had and a determination I made as an undergraduate, narrated years later for a graduate college course and included decades later in a piece of an essay titled "Moments That Mattered" published in Studio B's 2022 anthology of poetry and prose Transforming Moments.
To a Mouse
BY ROBERT BURNS
On Turning her up in her Nest, with the Plough, November 1785.
Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim’rous beastie,
O, what a panic’s in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi’ bickerin brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee
Wi’ murd’ring pattle!
I’m truly sorry Man’s dominion
Has broken Nature’s social union,
An’ justifies that ill opinion,
Which makes thee startle,
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,
An’ fellow-mortal!
I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen-icker in a thrave
’S a sma’ request:
I’ll get a blessin wi’ the lave,
An’ never miss ’t!
Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin!
It’s silly wa’s the win’s are strewin!
An’ naething, now, to big a new ane,
O’ foggage green!
An’ bleak December’s winds ensuin,
Baith snell an’ keen!
Thou saw the fields laid bare an’ waste,
An’ weary Winter comin fast,
An’ cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro’ thy cell.
That wee-bit heap o’ leaves an’ stibble
Has cost thee monie a weary nibble!
Now thou’s turn’d out, for a’ thy trouble,
But house or hald,
To thole the Winter’s sleety dribble,
An’ cranreuch cauld!
But Mousie, thou art no thy-lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men
Gang aft agley,
An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
For promis’d joy!
Still, thou art blest, compar’d wi’ me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But Och! I backward cast my e’e,
On prospects drear!
An’ forward tho’ I canna see,
I guess an’ fear!
#2
“I’m so tired of the disrespect, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.”
It was July 1967; we were relaxing after our last evening class, discussing race relations, cooling off by the pond that was strategically placed in the middle of the campus.
Jayden was one of only two Black students in my summer college class, hurt and angry at the daily injustices he experienced or witnessed as a Black man in America. To punctuate his point, he grabbed a passing lightning bug and threw it in the pond on his way back to the dorm.
I felt bad for the bug. In the wrong place. At the wrong time. It didn’t cause Jayden’s problems; but as I watched it frantically swimming toward me, I recognized the irony of an injustice done to the bug inflicted by a man plagued by injustice of a different sort. I shook my head as I reached down to save the bug from certain death by drowning and set him carefully on the grass beside me.
I watched it dry its wings, shuffle a bit along the grass and then take flight—delayed, I mused, only a few minutes on its flight home for dinner with the wife and kids! Whew! Close call, Buddy!
As I watched, however, I saw it fall again into the water. Apparently, its wings weren’t dry enough for flight. Silly, impatient bug, I thought! But as I reached down to save it once again, a fish appeared--mouth wide open--and grabbed it before I could. That moment startled me in yet another ironic twist of fate and took my breath away. That poor bug. It had become dinner to the fish. Gone. Forever.
I was horrified. For no good reason, by no fault of its own, that poor thing was unintentionally, accidentally killed by the hand of someone who would never pay for his unthinking crime or even know of what he’d done to end an innocent life. And, even though there was an honest attempt to “right the wrong”—to make it “all better” immediately—it was too late. Damage (in this case, death) done.
The incident reminded me that too often we humans hurt each other. On purpose, in many cases, sadly. But also, we hurt each other unintentionally, unknowingly. Hurts that can’t be fixed or forgotten. Hurts that cause lifelong damage. And, silly though it seems, inspired by a lightning bug, I vowed in that moment to be more deliberate, more careful, to control impulsive moves to react—in word or in deed—that may accidently cause another pain. The unfortunate event provided a too-clear example: too much unnecessary hurt happens purely by accident. I vowed to pay attention, to be as aware as I could, in order to protect innocent beings around me.
More News from Boyertown
- What’s your code of ethics and morals? Exploring one's memories helps to uncover the codes on which ethics and morals were built; Craig Bennett questions the sources of morals today.
- April 15: One-a-Day in Celebration of National Poetry Month In celebration of National Poetry Month, we share our favorite poems.
