Tuesday, November 11, 2008

TUESDAY'S PHOTOGRAPHMargaret and I are driving across America. The spectacular autumn tree is growing outside a restaurant on I-40 in Tennessee. The restaurant is called Loretta Lynn's Kitchen. This part of America is the Country Music Center of the Universe. The food is very much to my liking; the music not quite. The people are the salt of the earth. They are the Americans whose praises Walt Whitman sings in his famous poem. This is a fitting companion piece to The Langston Hughes poem.

I Hear America Singing
by: Walt Whitman

I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,
Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong,
The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work,
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck,
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands,
The woodcutter's song, the ploughboy's on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown,
The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work, or of the girl sewing or washing,
Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else,
The day what belongs to the day--at night the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,
Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.

From "Leaves of Grass"

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