If there's anyone to thank, it's Margalit Fox, who writes obituaries for the Times. She takes on virtually any subject, but does seem to shine even more when it's a deceased deli luminary, or a poet. Poets are her thing, I think.
Take the fairly recent obituary on Karla Kuskin, a creator of "witty children's books." Never heard of her. Not because I don't like, read, or buy children's books, but because, I never think of them as being written by anyone. I know they are, but I know who wrote The Grapes of Wrath. I do not know who wrote Drummer Hoff, also one of my favorites.
But after Margalit's piece I've spent some time in the children's section finding a few of her books. This behavior is made even more acceptable by having a nearly two year old granddaughter. So, I fit.
I've learned more about poetry by reading Margalit than I ever learned in school. And I did like English. The out quotes are beguiling. Take one of the ones that are sprinkled in the two column obit on Ms. Kuskin:
When a cat is asleep
There is nothing asleep
That is quite so asleep
As a cat.
I've now managed to buy two of her children's books and have ordered a book of her poems from an online bookseller. Dying drives commerce.
The obit piece and the books have had an effect on me. I haven't started talking out loud as if I'm reading a children's book, but I find myself thinking that way sometimes, and certainly, on at least one occasion, found myself writing that way.
Someone who I used to work with sent me and MANY others an e-mail that begged: "please bare with me."
Despite the invitation and whatever attractiveness this presented, I did gently remind her (and only her) that she's just asked everyone to reveal something. Generally this is thought to be flesh, but I am a guy.
I hope I helped when I gave her this to remember:
A bear bares all because he has no clothes at all.
Blame Margalit.
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