As one of the smallish number of surviving members of the pre-boomer generation, I was encouraged to memorize poetry in elementary school. This verse from Longfellow’s Psalm of Life stuck with me, even though almost everything about it went out of style in the many decades since I was in Grade 5:
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time.
First, of course, it needs to be de-gendered: “Lives of great ones all remind us…”
Then, rhyming? Surely not. Another aspect of poetry that was not only abandoned but almost forbidden in my lifetime. Though, thanks to rap culture, rhyme is once more appreciated in some circles, so let it be.
Then there’s that moral. Poems seldom have morals anymore, especially not like this one:
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
In other words,it’s a thoroughly old-fashioned poem, expressing an obsolete optimism not often seen in this modern world of woe.
So why did it spring to mind when I got the text message telling me that Margy Wilkinson had died?
Because she exemplified everything that the rest of us can only aspire to. Wherever she was, whatever was happening around her, she was “up and doing”.
She and her husband were what might be called radical royalty, if that wasn’t such a contradiction in terms. The savage red-baiting their respective parents encountered in the pursuit of social justice in the 1940s and 1950s was memorialized in the obituaries Tony and Margy wrote for their mothers, both of whom died in Berkeley.
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