by Ennis » Fri Jun 04, 2010 5:50 pm
Hello, Everyone!
I would have introduced myself here - had I bothered to check out all the "threads" (or whatever you call them; I'm not particularly computer-literate!) instead of rambling on on the "Bright Star" thread!
Anyway, I live in Asheville, North Carolina and I've had an obsession with John Keats for 45 years now. I won't go into any details concerning my age (ha!), but my "affair" with Keats started when I was 12! -- thanks to my dad. He was a high-school art, humanities, and drama teacher, as well as the faculty advisor for the annual and the literary magazine, so I grew up in a home where a love of reading and a love for fine literature was cultivated. My dad was also a functioning alcoholic (sorry, Dad. . . ), and one of the things he would do when "overheated" (our term, as we were growing up, for being drunk)was to lean against the kitchen sink and quote. He'd quote, to name a few, Shakespeare, the Bible, TSEliot, Wordsworth, Ezra Pound, Milton, Shelley, Byron (unfortunately), and Keats. This ordinarily wasn't so bad, except that my dad believed the neighbourhood should benefit from his recitations as well as his family, so he'd quote at the top of his voice. Naturally, this made sleeping difficult for my mom, my siblings, and me, and we'd have no choice but to listen to him. One night, and despite my age, I remember this as though it was yesterday [or, should I say, last night?!?], he was on a Keats kick, and I was blessed with hearing "When I Have Fears," "Bright Star," "This Living Hand," "On First Looking into Chapman's Homer," "La Belle Dame sans Merci," "Ode to Autumn," snippets from "Isabella," "The Eve of St. Agnes,' and both "Hyperions," and the great odes. What effected me the most was the opening and closing stanzas from "Ode on a Grecian Urn" and the entire "Ode to a Nightingale." I was so moved by the latter. Even though I had no clue what in the hell Keats was writing about (remember this, I was but 12), I couldn't believe someone was so capable of weaving words into such beautiful tapestries of thought. The next morning (a Saturday), I asked my dad about the poems was quoting the previous night -- who was the poet? His response was, and these words will remain with me forever, "Some little British kid. Keats. John Keats. Born in London in 1795 and died one friend shy of being alone in Rome in 1821. Just a boy. 25 years old. What a waste. A tragedy worthy of Shakespeare." I asked my mom to take me to the library so I could check out a biography on Keats, and the only one they had was Amy Lowell's 2-volume set. I read the whole thing in a matter of days, confiscated by dad's volume of Keats's poetry, and eventually asked for (and got) Hyder Rollin's collection of Keats's letters.
Thus began my lifelong obsession with this beautiful genius. He was the first man I fell in love with and the only one to whom I have remained constant.
"But if you will fully love me, though there may be some fire, 'twill not be more than we can bear when moistened and bedewed with Pleasures." JK to FB 08.07.1819