MR. POTATO HEAD RESPONDS

by Nan Ottenritter

I, Mr. Potato Head, was a glint in

the eye of George Lerner in 1949.

Birthed by Hasbro in 1952, I appeared

in the first television commercial

aimed at children. I then married the misses,

fathered Brother Spud and Sister Yam,

cared for puppy Spud-ette.

 

With 1964’s safety regulations I morphed

from real potato to shiny plastic. 1987 found me

surrendering my pipe to the Surgeon General

during the “Great American Smokeout.”

A 1992 President’s Council for Physical Fitness

commercial showed me renouncing my

couch potato lifestyle.

 

In 1995 I starred in the Disney pic Toy Story.

After, I joined the League of Women voters and their

“Get Out to Vote” campaign. In 2000 I was inducted

into the National Toy Hall of Fame. I have flown

in Macy’s Thanksgiving day parades, starred in film,

television, and cartoons. I even went green in 2020.

And now this!

 

Wikipedia headlines my entry with

“the title of this article is under discussion.”

You want to make my name gender neutral

to help with identity and family structure concerns? 

I am seventy-two years old. Beloved of

baby-boomers and their offspring,

I am trying to get it right as rain in

 

the old potato patch, and my fellow

spuds concur. If it helps, I will drop

the Mister. I can go with the flow here,

respond to the times we’re in.

For goddess’ sakes, if she can manage the change,

so can I. With love from Potato Head.

(animal/vegetable/mineral)

 

Nan Ottenritter lives and writes in Richmond, VA. Her first chapbook Eleanor, Speak is now in pre-sales at Finishing Line Press. Her thoughts: "I loved writing this poem. As I unearthed more and more information about Potato Head, I laughed at the extended jokes and appreciated the cultural icon that he and his family have become." 

BALTIMORE HAS MORE POTHOLES THAN BEVERLY HILLS

by Valerie Frost

Graphic from Rolling Stone, June 28, 2020

"I think there's racism in the United States still but I don't think that the law enforcement system is systemically racist.” —William Barr on CBS Face the Nation, June 7, 2020

“There’s overwhelming evidence that the criminal justice system is racist. Here’s the proof.” —The Washington Post, June 10, 2020


I am lost in a sea of
Lily Pulitzers
with their miniature Matilda Janes
and matching hair bows
twice the size of their heads.
Can’t tame my frizzy
Shea Moisture mane
paired with brandless denim pants
from Macy’s Last Chance
Clearance rack.
An ex ruined my 720-score credit
when he co-signed my name
on his gray Impala without permission.
Now I’m raising our kids in public housing
alongside pill abusers and meth addicts.
It’s hard to be financially stable
with two children all alone.
No family to help, can’t own a home.
I have a master’s degree
but that doesn’t mean a thing–
when your digitus medicinalis lacks a ring
they see a pariah, a painted liability.
If I get a raise above subsistence,
strain to put food on the table.
Quick to strip your stamps,
if you dance over
their basic assistance.
They say they don’t see color,
systemic racism is a myth.
Tell that to someone in the struggle,
my white friends don’t live like this.
All lives matter–
only if you’re silent.
When they sold you
that achievable “American Dream,”
they were lyin’.

Valerie Frost lives and works in Central Kentucky with her twin three-year-olds. Her poems have appeared in the Eastern Iowa Review, Headline Poetry and Press, and Dissident Voice, and she has forthcoming pieces elsewhere.