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De Amerikaanse dichter, vertaler en essayist Robert Pinsky werd geboren op 20 oktober 1940 in Long Branch, New Jersey. Zie ook mijn blog van 20 oktober 2008 en ook mijn blog van 20 oktober 2009 en ook mijn blog van 20 oktober 2010
Shirt
The back, the yoke, the yardage. Lapped seams,
The nearly invisible stitches along the collar
Turned in a sweatshop by Koreans or Malaysians
Gossiping over tea and noodles on their break
Or talking money or politics while one fitted
This armpiece with its overseam to the band
Of cuff I button at my wrist. The presser, the cutter,
The wringer, the mangle. The needle, the union,
The treadle, the bobbin. The code. The infamous blaze
At the Triangle Factory in nineteen-eleven.
One hundred and forty-six died in the flames
On the ninth floor, no hydrants, no fire escapes--
The witness in a building across the street
Who watched how a young man helped a girl to step
Up to the windowsill, then held her out
Away from the masonry wall and let her drop.
And then another. As if he were helping them up
To enter a streetcar, and not eternity.
A third before he dropped her put her arms
Around his neck and kissed him. Then he held
Her into space, and dropped her. Almost at once
He stepped up to the sill himself, his jacket flared
And fluttered up from his shirt as he came down,
Air filling up the legs of his gray trousers--
Like Hart Crane's Bedlamite, "shrill shirt ballooning."
Wonderful how the patern matches perfectly
Across the placket and over the twin bar-tacked
Corners of both pockets, like a strict rhyme
Or a major chord. Prints, plaids, checks,
Houndstooth, Tattersall, Madras. The clan tartans
Invented by mill-owners inspired by the hoax of Ossian,
To control their savage Scottish workers, tamed
By a fabricated heraldry: MacGregor,
Bailey, MacMartin. The kilt, devised for workers
to wear among the dusty clattering looms.
Weavers, carders, spinners. The loader,
The docker, the navvy. The planter, the picker, the sorter
Sweating at her machine in a litter of cotton
As slaves in calico headrags sweated in fields:
George Herbert, your descendant is a Black
Lady in South Carolina, her name is Irma
And she inspected my shirt. Its color and fit
And feel and its clean smell have satisfied
both her and me. We have culled its cost and quality
Down to the buttons of simulated bone,
The buttonholes, the sizing, the facing, the characters
Printed in black on neckband and tail. The shape,
The label, the labor, the color, the shade. The shirt.
Robert Pinsky (Long Branch, 20 oktober 1940)
De Nederlandse schrijfster Belle van Zuylen werd op 20 oktober 1740 geboren in slot Zuylen, gemeente Maarssen bij Utrecht. Zie ook mijn blog van 20 oktober 2010 en eveneens alle tags voor Belle van Zuylen op dit blog.
Uit: De geschiedenis van Caliste
Brief II
Mijnheer,
U leek gisteren zoo bedroefd, dat ik niet kan nalaten u te vragen welke reden tot verdriet u heeft. U zult misschien niet geneigd zijn het te zeggen, maar u zult me niet kwalijk kunnen nemen het gevraagd te hebben; sinds gisteren heb ik slechts uw beeld voor den geest. Mylord komt ons bijna elken dag bezoeken. Weliswaar blijft hij gewoonlijk slechts een oogenblik. Komt het u voor dat men er in Lausanne op begint te letten en dat men mij kan gispen omdat ik hem ontvang? Gij kent hem voorzoover het mogelijk is een jongmensch te kennen; gij kent zijn ouders en hun zienswijze. Ongetwijfeld hebt gij in het hart van Cécile gelezen; zeg mij welke gedragslijn ik moet volgen. Ik ben, mijnheer, uw zeer onderdanige en gehoorzame dienaresse.
Belle van Zuylen (20 oktober 1740 27 december 1805)
Pasteltekening uit 1771 door Maurice-Quentin de la Tour
De Amerikaanse (humoristische) schrijver en columnist Lewis McDonald Grizzard Jr. werd geboren op 20 oktober 1946 in Columbus, Georgia. Zie ook mijn blog van 20 oktober 2008 en ook mijn blog van 20 oktober 2010
Uit: All Booked Up (Column)
Somewhere in the USA - This begins my third straight week on the road in search of publicity for a book. Some observations:
It really doesn't matter how long it takes to fly from one place to another anymore. Once an airplane is in the air, it goes about as fast as I want it to go.
What is of consequence today, however, is how long it will take to get the plane into the air in the first place.
I've been in an airplane every day for two weeks, and not a single one has taken off on time. There are traffic delays, weather delays, mechanical delays and delays where there are no explanations at all.
From the time I left my hotel, it took me eight hours to get from Chicago to Detroit. The flight itself took less than an hour.
What we need in this country are corridor trains that go 150 mph, downtown to downtown. No traffic. Shorter cab rides. Less hassle.
We won't ever have that, however, because it makes too much sense. No cable TV in Chicago
Do you realize there is no such thing as cable TV in the city of Chicago? Something political, I presume, but where do these people get their wrestling shows without Ted Turner's Superstation?
Until Friday, I'd never been to Minneapolis before. Now, I know why.
I asked a bellman outside a Miami hotel to call me a cab, it was late in the evening. Just then, I noticed a cab parked across the street.
"Never mind," I said to the bellman. "There's a cab across the street."
"No, no," said the bellman. "That is a fake cab. You get inside, and the driver takes off somewhere and beats you up and takes your money."
"Oh."
At the Marquette Inn in Minneapolis the soap is blue and comes in the shape of a seashell. At the Marriott Marquis in New York the lobby is on the eighth floor.
Lewis Grizzard (20 oktober 1946 20 maart 1994)
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