Cabanne Spring, Forest Park: vintage undated image with unidentified children from the archives of Louis (1907-1999) & Georgia (1918-2009) Buckowitz via Urban Review: St. Louis. |
—The Waste Land poem is 100 years old this month.
Twit twit twit... turn of the century, it's 1900, and Tom
born in St. Louis, not yet known as T. S., found his first
waste land: Forest Park, 1,371 acres of countryside.
waste land: Forest Park, 1,371 acres of countryside.
an amusement park and a steam-driven carousel
(yes, that 1944 Meet Me in St. Louie whirlabout).
Both Tom and my Nanna Edna, almost the same age,
lived nearby on one side of the park. Did they meet?
Jug jug jug... Maybe not, and yet I begin to see
them one day on the carousel when he and Edna
were both eleven: Tom, in a tan jacket and hat,
riding the lead horse with roses around its neck,
smiling down at her—a girl in white organza, in
the white swan chariot. Perhaps. But what came next?
Oh jug jug jug Tom left St. Louis, went to Harvard.
Edna stayed, went to Fontbonne, a teachers college,
studied math, grammar, poetry, was the first woman
(or man) in our big family with a college degree.
Shantih shantih shantih A hundred years passed:
Nanna Edna gone. T. S. Eliot gone and yet still there.
The Waste Land, a mystery, kismet, a search for selves