Poetry Place Collected Poems

travels with my Father Wagontire Oregon

Travels with my Father

Prose Poem Version

I grew up in Berkeley, California in the 60s and 70s, graduating from high school in 1974. My father was a local politician, college professor, and economist who served in DC under President Kennedy and Johnson. He and I did not get along that much, he was a distant aloof person hard to get to know, although I admired him and agreed with him on political issues for the most part. He was a moderate democrat which in Berkeley made him a conservative a curse word in the hyper-partisan Berkeley political scene.

One thing we did share was the love of travel and road trips. My father had inherited a summer cabin near Yakima, Washington, and from an early age to when I was 20, I spent most summers in the cabin with my father, my mother, my brothers, and my sister and visiting my uncle and his family. We were a dysfunctional family, always bickering and did not get along at all. Our road trips were fun actually despite our dysfunctional family dynamics.

We made several memorable trips over the years. We drove across the country twice from DC to California both times taking the northern route and stopping off in Yakima before returning to California. Along the way stopping off at Yellowstone, Grand Teton, etc. On one trip we went through Canada stopping off in Montréal, Toronto, Calgary, the Canadian Rockies, and Vancouver. We were 90 miles from the Alaskan border and my father decided we were not going to go to Alaska although we all begged him to do so. It took me almost 50 years before I finally got to Alaska, on a cruise, and I thought Meh was overrated and not for me. But still, I would have liked to have seen it when I was 11 years old.

One summer we drove just my father and me to Yakima and we drove through eastern Oregon just for the hell of it. We drove down a lonely country highway dubbed the loneliness highway in America that started in Nevada and goes through eastern Oregon and Eastern Washington the Nevada and Oregon sections are among the least densely populated areas in the United States. We started noticing signs for Wagon Tire, Oregon, with signs like 99 miles to Wagon Tire’s last services for 200 miles. 99 98 97 every milepost had two signs to Wagon tire and a Burma Shave sign. Burma Shave signs were a feature of the American West from 1920 to 1974 when the interstate highway system ended most roadside billboard advertisements, and the Burma Shave company ceased as an independent company the Burma Shave billboards were cowboy poetry at its best three to five short tanka like advertisements like

Drivers,
You must remember this
Driving fast
Kills you fast

Burma Shave

When we got there, we found a run-down motel/gas station, cafe, and general store.
We spent the night; we were the only customers as it was mid-week. We had noticed a sign-out front

“Welcome to Wagon tire

Population

30,000 sheep
20, 000 cows
10,000 pigs
5,000 chickens
Thousands of bears, coyotes,
deer, elk, and antelope
2 and one-half people

We asked the owner who had identified himself as the owner, fire chief, sheriff, and landlord what the sign, two and one-half people meant. He said,

“Oh me, my wife, and my idiot son, that’s the half person.”

In 2016 when I drove across the country with my wife to celebrate retiring from the foreign service we drove through Wagon tire, which was now a ghost town with signs for sale. I wonder if anyone bought the store? And whether anyone lives there anymore. In any event, the idiot son never carried out the family business.


Travels with my Father free verse


I grew up in Berkeley California
My father was a local politician,
college professor,

we did not get along that much
he was a distant aloof person
hard to get to know,

although I admired him
and agreed with him
on political issues

One thing we did share
was the love of travel
and road trips.

My father had a summer cabin
near Yakima, Washington,
and from an early age to
when I was 20

I spent most summers
in the cabin with my father,
my mother, my brothers,
and my sister
and visiting my uncle and his family.

We were a dysfunctional family,
always bickering
and did not get along at all.

Our road trips were fun actually
despite our dysfunctional
family dynamics.

One summer
My father and I drove
through eastern Oregon
just for the hell of it.

We drove down
Highway 395
dubbed the loneliness highway
in America

the Nevada and Oregon sections
are among the least densely populated
areas in the United States.

Outside of Klamath Falls
As we entered Oregon
High desert outback

We started noticing signs
for Wagon Tire, Oregon,
with signs like

99 miles to the Wagon tire
last services for 200 miles.
99
98
97
every milepost
had two signs a sign to Wagon tire
and a Burma Shave sign.

Burma Shave signs
were a feature of the American West
from 1920 to 1974
when the interstate highway system
ended most roadside billboard advertisements,

and the Burma Shave company
ceased as an independent company

the Burma Shave billboards
were cowboy poetry
at its best

three to five short
tanka like advertisements like

"Drivers,
You must remember this
Driving fast
Kills you fast

Burma Shave"

When we got there
we found a run-down motel/gas station,
cafe, and general store.

We spent the night.
we were the only customers
as it was mid-week.

We had noticed a sign-out front

“Welcome to Wagon tire

Population

30,000 sheep
20, 000 cows
10,000 pigs
5,000 chickens
Thousands of bears, coyotes,
deer, elk, and antelope
2 and one-half people

We asked the owner
who had identified himself
as the owner, fire chief,
sheriff, and landlord

what the sign,
two and one-half people meant.


He said,

“Oh me, my wife,
and my idiot son, that’s the half person.”

In 2016
when I drove across the country
with my wife
to celebrate retiring
from the foreign service

we drove through Wagontire,
which was now a ghost town
with signs for sale.

I wonder
if anyone bought the store?
And whether anyone lives there anymore.
In any event, the idiot son
never carried out the family business.

.
Comment on process

The prose poem version was easier to write but covered a lot of ground could be four or five different free verse poems - so I picked my trip to Wagon tire to write about, thinking about a few other versions of the story, but taking a fresh look.

I am including the other Wagon tire poem as a reference as well as links to articles about Wagon tire, and Burma Shave commercials.

https://www.bing.com/search?FORM=NWLS01&PC=ATNW&q=burma+shave+road+signs

Burma-Shave was an American brand of brushless shaving cream, famous for its advertising gimmick of posting humorous rhyming poems on small sequential highway roadside signs.
History[edit]
Burma-Shave was introduced in 1925 by the Burma-Vita company in Minneapolis owned by Clinton Odell. The company's original product was a liniment made of ingredients described as having come "from the Malay Peninsula and Burma" (hence its name).[1] Sales were sparse, and the company sought to expand sales by introducing a product with wider appeal.

Note: according to Wikipedia there are still a few people living in Wagon tire. When we drove through in 2016 it sure looked like a Ghost town.

Wagontire, Oregon - Wikipedia
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wagontire,_Oregon

Wagontire is an unincorporated community in Harney County, Oregon, United States, along U.S. Route 395.

The community was named after the nearby Wagon tire Mountain. From 1986 to at least 1997, Wagon tire was home to just two people: William and Olgie Warner. The Warrners' property included a gas station, cafe, motel, general store, and r…
Wikipedia · Text under CC-BY-SA license
Wagon Tire Oregon 1973, 2016


In 1973, I went on a road trip
With my Father

We left Berkeley to go to Yakima
Where my father had a summer cabin

He was a college professor
And had July and August off
And we spent our summers

Every summer from 68 to 78
In that mountain cabin

Our whole dysfunctional family
Our annual trip to hell and back
And we did not get along at all

We decided to drive through Eastern Oregon
Just my Father and me
Just for the hell of it
The rest of the family was already there

My Father and I shared a travel lust
Loved to go to new places
One of the few things we shared

This was one of our best trips
We got along
Which was unusual

Normally our relationship
Was fraught with tension
As we were so different

We left Klamath Falls
A real noting burg in those days
And headed east along Highway 395

As we entered the desert of eastern Oregon
We entered a different world

High mountain desert
Almost no one on the road

Then we saw the sign
Wagontire Oregon
100 miles ahead
99 miles
98 miles

We counted down the signs
Mile after mile
As we drove into the gathering dusk

We speculated that wagon tire
Must be a giant truck stop
An oasis in the desert
In the middle of nowhere

We pulled into town
Nothing but a gas station
Motel and cafe

We decided to stop
Last gas for 100 miles
According to the highway sign

In the morning
We chatted with the owner
He was the sheriff's fire chief

Owner of the motel gas station
The only business in town

And the only place open
For one hundred miles

I noticed a sign outside
Welcome to Wagon Tire, Oregon

Population 2 1/2 humans 10 dogs
200000 sheep

I asked the sheriff
Who is the half-human

He said my idiot son

And we left
200 miles
We finally left eastern Oregon

2016

In 2016 my wife and I
drove through eastern Oregon
As part of our epic cross-country trip

31 states 100000 miles in three months

On the way from Medford to Yellowstone
We drove along Highway 395
40 years since my trip with my father

The signs for wagon tire were gone
As we drove through the town

The motel was abandoned
Nothing there at all

The motel was in ruins
Just another ghost town

And that sign was gone too
Just a small sign saying
Wagontire, Oregon

We speculated about wagon tire
And all the other nothing burgs
We drove through that summer

Heart of Trump's Forgotten
America Fly over country


DISCUSSION: The Nature of Poetry
by Dave (929)
1. What is poetry? Many people have defined poetry in different ways. Webster's Dictionary defines it as 'an arrangement of words in verse; especially in rhythmical composition, sometimes rhymed, expressing facts, ideas, or emotions in a style more concentrated, imaginative and powerful than that of ordinary speech; some poems are in meter, some in free verse.' If I may paraphrase the others, poetry is the projection of emotion and experience to the reader through theme, imagery, rhythm, and form in finely compressed language. The poet uses distinct imagery, both literal and figurative, supplemented by the rhythmic arrangement of words and phrases in a specifically designed form to convey feelings and ideas to the reader. Like a snapshot photograph, a poem captures a moment of experience in words that can be shared with others through eternity.

2. What is the difference between prose and poetry? The most important difference is the line structure. In prose, the lines run to the margins of the page and carry over to the next until they form a complete paragraph. In poetry, each line is specifically designed based on the poet's intended effect. Poetry is also distinguished by vivid imagery, a lyrical rhythm that supports the theme, and compact language to create an intensity that evokes an emotional reaction from the reader.

3. Why should you write poetry? First, let's be clear. If you're seeking wealth and fame, poetry is probably not the place for you. The market is very limited, and the question of quality is quite subjective, so your chances of selling enough to make a living are very slim. If you would like to express yourself in a community of people who enjoy doing the same thing, the world of poetry is the perfect place for you.

Poetry is an entertaining form of relaxing recreation. Searching for just the right words to craft a line of poetry is akin to an artist mixing pigments on the palette to precisely achieve the right hue of color for a painting.

Poetry can be a therapeutic outlet for pent-up emotions. Expressing those feelings in words on paper will help you deal with them in a manner that will promote better understanding.

Poetry is an effective means of expanding your repertoire of skills by training writers of all persuasions to be more aware of the intricacies in the language they use. The compact nature of poetry forces the writer to trim and compress the language for maximum effect in expressing the very essence of an idea.

You shouldn't worry about whether or not you 'are good enough' or 'have what it takes.' Poetry is more about the journey than the result, in my humble opinion.

4. What do you need to write poetry? As with all kinds of writing, the first and most important thing you need to write poetry is the commitment to sit down and do it. Ideally, that will start with designating a specific place and time for your writing. The place can be as simple as a place to sit and a flat surface to write on. The time will depend upon the demands of your daily routine. If you are truly committed to writing, you will find some space in that routine for your writing, whether it be rising an hour early for a morning session or in the evening after the kids are tucked into bed. Being retired, I usually try to get all my chores and errands done in the morning to free up my afternoon for writing. I also carry a pad and pen with me to capture any random moments that may come available, such as in the waiting room of a doctor's office.

ASSIGNMENT:

Free write for 15 - 30 minutes about some childhood memory. Don't worry about form, grammar, or punctuation. The idea is just to get some ideas down on paper.

After you have captured your thoughts on paper, start tinkering with the phrasing to trim extraneous language, arrange specific images, and develop a rhythm that will help to convey your feelings to the reader. That is how you create a prose poem.

Next, take that prose poem and start adjusting line breaks to design a form that will complement your expression.

Post both forms in the "~ The Poet's Place Cafe~" forum, and discuss your impressions of the different styles.