ASK ROD |
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A Thought for Today
George W. Shrub as President of the United States? Now that's scary!
Happy All Saints Eve. I hope your tricks are all treats and your treats not too tricky. On to the mail.
IN SEARCH OF EROS
Dear Rod, I have over 180 of your albums. It's quite a collection and it includes your vocal records, soundtracks, classical works and spoken word albums. It would be very hard to pick a favorite, but high on the list would be "In Search of Eros." It is probably the most romantic album ever made, bar none. So far only a track or two from it have come out on CD. When can we expect the complete work? Tim MacMullen, County Kirk, Ireland.
Dear Tim, So many letters over the last several months are about, mention or refer to "In Search of Eros," which was recorded back in the early sixties. Some of the letters published yesterday and today (including yours) fall into that camp. I think I mentioned earlier this year that I'm remastering "Eros," combining it with new poetry and the 4 tracks from "The Yellow Unicorn" for a CD to be released early next year. Over time, with each re-release of the album the sound has been down graded and even the original speed was compromised.
For this new release I went back to the original 3 Track master so I think the digital remastering will be a revelation to even those who own the first vinyl pressing.
At the time I recorded it I co-produced an album of my poetry that featured Eartha Kitt. It has never been issued, but since I own the master it's on the upcoming list of future Stanyan releases. Some of that poetry was from "In Search of Eros" and my next album, due out around the first of the year, will feature a track of Eartha and I reading together.
That album, entitled "rodmckuen.com" is probably the most eclectic one I've ever put together. It includes new songs as well as duets with guest artists that include Dusty Springfield, Petula Clark, Don Ho, Celia Johnson, Rock Hudson, Eartha and Dolly Parton among others. Not a single track on it has previously been released and the recording dates span the length of my career. I'm currently trying to whittle it down from 2 CD's to one. Or, should I go with the double CD. I'd like to hear some feedback on that from you and other Flight Plan readers.
Thanks for writing, Tim. Cheers, Rod
DESKTOP DECORATING
I just did some desktop redecorating with last year's Stanyan House Halloween card--looks pretty darned nifty against a "Poppy Light" background--I just centered it . . . Now I feel properly Halloweeny . . .You did a GREAT job on that . . .
Luv, :) Susan
Dear Susan, I'd forgotten all about the spooky version of The Stanyan House we did last year. Thanks for the reminder. As ever, Rod
SHIVER ME TIMBERS
Is there any way I can get my hands on an album I had many years ago entitled "About Me"? Thanks and thanks again.
Linda Seabourne P. S. Your life blesses my life even still.
Dear Linda, I hope there's no way you can get your hands on a copy of "About Me." Let me explain; About Me was a pirate album that was a rip off complete with title changes to tracks and even edits
within poems to make them seem new. If you liked it, I hope you'll order the real thing from Stanyan By Mail. It's a CD called "Beatsville" and contains 'The Full Monty,' so to speak. There are even six additional tracks including the first versions of two new unpublished poems ("I Always Knew" is one of
them). There is even a special "Beatsville" font on the album that you can load on your PC or Mac.
In yesterday's Flight Plan Jay Hagan wrote to say he found two rip-offs of "In Search of Eros," from different sources - one was even called "About Me."
Tell you what, if you order "Beatsville" and don't like it, we'll send your money back. Warmest regards, Rod
ANOTHER TAURUS FROM THE BULL PEN
Rod, Just found your site & I wanted to let you know what a great fan of yours I have been...bought your first album "In Search of Eros" back in 1967 before I was old enough to know what eros meant. Kids my age thought this was strange stuff I was listening to...I thought it was great! I have tried to collect all of your books & have several CD's...I don't know if astrology has a connection or not but I am a Taurus also (04-28} and I can relate to just about everything you write about, including animals. Dogs & cats are always around me.....the ocean soothes my soul...the sensual touch & the search for love....
Take Care & please keep writing those lyrics that touch the Taurus heart so well. Ms. Patricia D. Kennedy
Dear Patricia, Astrologists claim Taurus folks have an affinity for one another. I don't know a lot about Astrology but I do know that many important people in my life were born under the sign of 'the bull." My brother Edward was born 3 years and 2 days before me, making him a Taurus. And, several people I've loved very much over the years have had birthdays near mine. Edward has
experienced the same situation.
Of course it just might be that I have a great deal in common with people who have
influenced my life. Earth people, so to speak, who are home bodies, romantic in nature and have pretty set and strong positions on just about everything. At any rate if it isn't astrological or planned in some way, it's a heck of a series of coincidences.
Thanks for the letter and kind wishes. Warmly, Rod
IT DOESN'T MATTER WHO YOU LOVE
Dear Rod, The first poem of yours that I ever read began, "It doesn't matter who you love, or how you love, but that you love" I can remember it making an impact on me as a young teenager. I clipped it out of the magazine it was printed in, but over the years it has disappeared. What is the title of the
poem, and where can I find it in one of your books? Your help would be greatly appreciated. Sincerely, An impacted fan, MochaMom
Dear MochaMom, The poem is entitled "Creed" and can be found in "Hand in Hand" and "An Outstretched Hand" in abbreviated versions. Here, for the first time anywhere, is the complete text.
All the very best to you, Rod.
CREED
It doesn't matter
who you love
or how you love
but that you love.
For in the end
the act of loving any man,
is the act of loving God
The good in men
is all the God there is
and loving is a contribution
to that good
and to that only God.
Love is the alpha
and omega.
What else is there
that turns the head
and heart in equal measure.
It doesn't matter
who you love
or how you love
but that you love.
CARNEGIE HALL
I have no question, I just wanted to tell him what happened to me. I owned an LP of Live at Carnegie Hall and many years ago I lost my copy, needless to say it broke my heart. I raised my sons with his music and poetry and I was so upset to think that my daughter would be raised and have no idea who he is
and what he feels.
Last year my oldest son called me and told me that he had
a surprise for me-he had my album in with the turntable that he had borrowed from me so many years ago. I had already gone everywhere trying to replace it and it is (was) impossible. I got my copy back and while it is super scratchy, I listen to it all the time.
My son just bought the book, Listen to the Warm, on ebay for my birthday gift and last night while I was on there looking for Stanyan Street and Other Sorrows a man told me about this website. I am so thrilled to see all of this available. The poetry and music that Mr. McKuen writes have touched so many people that I ask in my job and I am so grateful to find that it is still available. thank you, Beverly Jones.
Dear Beverly, as someone who knows Mr. McKuen intimately
I thank you for your beautiful letter and kind sentiment. Love, Rod
BOO
Dear Rod, Happy Halloween. Thought you might like this.
A bald man with a wooden leg gets invited to a Halloween party. He doesn't know what costume to wear to hide his
head and his leg so he writes to a costume company to explain his problem. A few days later he received a parcel with the following note.
Dear Sir, Please find enclosed a pirate's outfit. The spotted handkerchief will cover your bald head and, with your wooden
leg, you will be just right as a pirate. Very truly yours, Acme Costume Co......
The man thinks this is terrible because they have just emphasized his wooden leg and so he writes a letter of
complaint. A week goes by and he receives another parcel and a note, which reads:
Dear Sir, Please find enclosed a monk's habit (that is a robe for laymen people). The long robe will cover your wooden leg and, with your baldhead, you will really look the part.
Very truly yours, Acme Costume Co......
Now the man is really upset since they've gone from emphasizing his wooden leg to emphasizing his baldhead so
again he writes the company another nasty letter of complaint. The next day he receives a small parcel and a short note.
Dear Sir, Please find the enclosed bottle of molasses. Pour the molasses over your baldhead,
stick your wooden leg up your ass and go as a caramel apple. Very truly yours, Acme Costume
Co.
Love, Hugs & Molly
Dear H&M, Know you meant this for Friday's Pass It Along, but a little levity on All Saints Eve seemed like a good idea. Luv, Rod
Just a thought or two toward a happier Halloween. If you've got kids and they're under ten don't let them go out trick or treating without an adult chaperone. Why not get the kids in the neighborhood together and send them out in a group. Parents could draw lots as to who goes with them to make sure they stay together and stay safe.
Like it or not, we live in different times from those when you and I went from house to house on Halloween ringing doorbells. There are more traffic problems now and no neighborhood anywhere is a totally safe neighborhood. That's just the way it is. Be safe not sorry for your children's sake and for your own peace of mind.
One more thing, don't forget the Golden Rule for All Saints Eve; remind the kids not to eat unwrapped candy and if possible bring the treats home so the whole family can look them over and share them.
Ken will be here tomorrow with "This One Does It For Me and I'll see you again on Thursday. Sleep warm and don't forget the Wolfbain.
RM 10/30/2000 Previously unpublished.
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A JACK-O'LANTERN OF ONE'S OWN
An October Memory
for Wayne Green |
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It wasn't the hills or sledding there.
or chasing the girls down ice-clean streets -
stealing their mittens and paperbagged lunches
and sharing them with each other.
Not even the snowballs aimed at strangers,
then running 'round corners to staked safe place.
Part of it maybe, not all. What it was mostly
was not knowing what it was. Not even thinking
about it till now.
Some other yesterday back in the distance,
a long-ago twilight, a long time ago. Six
of us boys lined up and boasting, seeing just
which one could piss furthest, longest.
running the risk of bursting our kidneys
till enough was stored up
to write names in the snow.
Having a short name, I won some and lost
some, I carried the day. I stumbled, I fell.
Now's not so much different from
long time ago.
Many's the snowman - neighborhood effort.
you bring the carrot, I'll bring the coal. Hard
Guardian Angel not melting till now.
Spare tires that hung from limbs over water.
A dive when the creek had more water
than mud., A place to go off to where every
injustice, real or imagined, could be
ridden out.
Books, like jeans, were tossed in a corner,
left there dirty, dog-eared to grow.
Homework was building a hut in the cellar
to hide in and ride out fantasy, fiction, mind
fodder and stuffing. Planning a weekend
never a life, breaking the skin on my dick
in the darkness alone and forsaken, bleeding
to death. Hearing those footsteps above in
the kitchen, knowing that SHE must have
heard me cry out.
It wasn't the floorboards, only the foreskin
under the kitchen cracking from friction.
One-legged jumpers hopping chalked boxes
on cleaned-up sidewalks between heavy snows.
The taw a marble, a half-eaten jaw-breaker,
a rock from a pocket that fell through a hole.
Winter game, summer game, names no longer
known. Red Rover, Red Rover, won't you
come over . . .
was that Kick-the-can or Sheep-in-my pen?
Whatever, whatever, It comes back whenever
I think of myself as a fully-grown man.
The lines 'round my forehead and 'round
my eye corners bunch up like creased
leather on the back of the backseat of old
Buick Sedans.
Me growing older, imagine the irony.
I couldn't wait, thought it might never happen.
Was sure I'd be cut down before the next season,
let alone grow up, grow older, grow old. A
fatalist then always seeing the dark side. Why,
looking back, is there now only light?
A child builds life around birthdays and
Holidays, what other calendar works for
the young?
Money enough every October
for only one fat golden pumpkin. An eye
for my brother to hollow, the other for me
to carve. The mouth one more problem,
always, an argument.
Shouldn't Jacks smile?/ No Jack ought to frown.
When did a smile in front of a candle bully
a trick into a treat? No matter how careful
the paring and carving, always one tooth
usually upper, snapped onto the table
dropped into a lap, bounced on the floor
and got trod underfoot.
Oh brother, my brother beginning to bawl
over spoiled jack-o'-lantern,
just part of the plan.
My baby brother cried quicker, easier
than movie star ladies in mush matinees.
Tears would well up at the smell of a
quarter. Hush money, of course, to quiet
the kid. It always did. Then off to the grocery
for jellybeans, Jujubes. Poor old Jack left on
the table. Mama would always redo his
bridgework and always inevitable smile,
not a frown. Still what is a holiday without
family ritual. Thanksgiving, Halloween -
each has its rules. And, anyway, Mama
was some kind of sculptor. God may
have made Adam but ever year Mama
tooled up and turned out a remake of Jack.
Rooms aren't important to kids growing up
as long as there's nails and boards to build
boxes.
A box of your own is a must. It gives the head
running room the heart its own hollow,
the body a place to bed down and bed.
It well might be worth forgoing the ransom
for pumpkins messed up, carved crooked
on purpose
if every kid's Bill of Rights included a jackknife,
a taw of importance and his own scowling Jack.
- from "Folio No. 56", fall 1986 |
