Voices That Are Always with Us

Poetry and Conversation

Catonsville Presbyterian Church- France Room

1400 Frederick Rd.

Friday, September 20th, 7PM

Altar of Innocence cover artFinal Deployment

 

            Memories are full of many images, and none are more powerful than the voices of those people in our lives whom we’ve loved and who have challenged us. Ann Bracken and Ann Quinn will read from their collections of poetry dealing with memories whose power has shaped them and influenced their writing journeys. Come for an inspiring evening of poetry and conversation with two local authors.

Ann Bracken, an activist with a pen, who grew up in Catonsville, has authored two poetry collections, No Barking in the Hallways: Poems from the Classroomand The Altar of Innocence, serves as a contributing editor for Little Patuxent Review, and co-facilitates the Wilde Readings Poetry Series.  Her poetry, essays, and interviews have appeared in anthologies and journals, including Bared: Contemporary Poetry & Art on Bras & Breasts, Fledgling Rag, and Gargoyle. Ann’s poetry has garnered two Pushcart Prize nominations and   her advocacy work centers around arts-based interventions for mental health and prison reform.  Website: www.annbrackenauthor.com

Church member Ann Quinn, who has led a bi-monthly Writer’s Group at CPC for the past five years, is a poet and essayist, editor, teacher, mentor, mother, and classical clarinetist. In her  poetry collection, Final Deployment,published by Finishing Line Press, the child of a Vietnam War naval aviator matures into motherhood and experiences the death of her own mother. These poems remind us of what nature teaches about death’s necessity and its potential for transfiguration. Ann’s award-winning work has been published in Potomac Review, Little Patuxent Review, Vietnam War Poetry, Haibun TodayandSnapdragon, and is included in the anthology Red Sky: Poetry on the Global Epidemic of Violence Against Women. She conducts writing workshops and music camps, volunteers in schools and libraries, and plays in a symphony orchestra.  Ann holds an M.F.A. in poetry from Pacific Lutheran University and lives in Catonsville, Maryland with her family. Visit her at www.annquinn.net

Join us for this inspiring evening of creative listening and conversation. The authors will have copies of their books for sale, and refreshments will be served.

Homage to My Mother

Dorothy Wetzler Bracken designed and painted this dress as a student at Maryland Institute College of Art in the 1930s. Although she graduated in 1935 with a degree in costume design, she was never able to pursue her artistic talents. Mom kept her dreams to herself until the late 90s when I discovered a portfolio of her designs and she confessed, “I always wanted to be a fashion designer.”

            Dorothy’s story could have been a happy one—she married, had many friends, and eventually had five children. “I was thrilled every time I found out I was pregnant,” she often told me. Yet, postpartum depression plagued Mom following nearly every birth. After her fifth child arrived, Mom was hospitalized, received electroconvulsive therapy treatments, took copious amounts of psychiatric drugs, but sadly, she never recovered.   

            Because I always managed to recover from my own depressions, I puzzled over Mom remaining trapped in chronic depression for over 40 years. Until I found Dad’s collection of old insurance and medication records, newspaper and magazine articles, and letters to doctors stashed in my sister’s attic. 

            Those records told the story of my father’s futile attempts to get help from Mom’s doctors, most of whom only saw her twice a year despite a suicide attempt, hospitalizations, accidents (probably due to overmedication), and many electroconvulsive therapy treatments. Most troubling of all were the lists of Mom’s prescriptions that Dad had saved: Thorazine, barbiturates, antidepressants, amphetamines, and benzodiazepines. 

            Mom’s doctors were practicing polypharmacy: giving a patient more than one drug to treat a condition. The same thing that happened to me with opioids in the late 90s; the same thing—with different drugs—that’s happening now. And oftentimes the chemical load becomes so great that it’s impossible to tell what’s actually going on for a patient vs. the interactions of the medications. Now I know at least one reason Mom never got well. 

Reflections on the Philadelphia Writers Conference 2019

What happens when you get over 125 writers together in one place and give them prompts, papers and pens?  I found out when I attended the Philadelphia Writers Conference for the first time about a two weeks ago.

Schedule and cover image
Schedule and cover image from Philadelphia Writers Conference

I attended several workshops and was really inspired by the one on using color that was facilitated by the wonderful Philly poet Yolanda Wisher.  After reading a masterful poem called “Blue” by Yusef Komunyakaa, we all tried our hand at a similar piece after selecting a line of his as a jumping off point.  Wow!  The five of us went in all different directions, and I felt like I’d been given a jolt of lightening energy to infuse my work with freshness. Yolanda gave us paint chips to take home and assigned us the task of writing a poem with words like rust, pilgrimage foliage, and aztec brick—I’m still working on that poem. And Sunday morning was a pairing of watercolors and poetry—here’s a picture of the final product.

Color Workshop
Painting and poem from Yoland Wisher’s Poetry Color Study workshop

Another high point of the conference came with a workshop led by the keynote speaker and prolific author Jonathan Maberry. He showed us how to create a pitch for agents that would generate a request for a proposal or a manuscript. All I can say is that I rewrote my pitch immediately and two out of three agents I met with asked for a proposal. All three complimented the pitch. Thank you, Jonathan.

Asali Solomon gave an impressive welcoming speech which encouraged all of us to write about the macro issues of the day using the micro lens of our own experiences. Sandy Shea, of the Philadelphia Inquirer, led us in a thoughtful workshop on how to craft an op-ed for publication, and lastly, Jenn McCreary led us in a fabulous workshop on the political nature and uses of erasure poetry.

Brovo is all I can say. Well worth the time and money to go to Philly for the workshops alone. The planning committee is taking a year off to regroup and plan for updates, but they’ll be back in 2021. So will I!

Ekphrastic Adventure: Pairing Paintings and Poems

Last week a wonderful art exhibit opened at Slayton House in Wilde Lake Village Center here in Columbia. Two local artists, April Rimpo and Elaine Weiner-Reed opened their exhibit entitled “Portraits of Life: The Art of Storytelling.”  What made the evening special was the collaboration that April and Elaine had arranged by seeking poets and musicians to write songs and poems to accompany their paintings. Along with several other local writers, I participated in the event and wrote two poems–one to go with a painting by Elaine and one to go with a painting by April. The energy of the visual art and the spoken words created a powerful atmosphere in the gallery. Here are my poems to accompany Elaine’s painting “Come What May” and April’s painting “Time At the Bus Stop.”  Enjoy! And stop by Slayton House to catch this amazing exhibit.

CItyScape
Come What May

“Come What May”

What mirage led me here
thinking I could draw strength
from the glass towers and the shimmering golden lights?

I sought anonymity to begin again
but discovered instead how lonely
a park bench could be.

I sought a fresh beginning,
an unblemished day
but crammed my head full of too many memories.

With no one to lean on
I stand taller
With no one to shield me
perhaps I’ll soar.

Immigrant family
Time at the Bus Stop by April M Rimpo created 1/4/2016

“Time At the Bus Stop”

I had a vision that if we came here
we’d find a new kind of fortune.

But who feeds guests with scraps
from cans instead of
platters heavy with fruit?

My grandson places his hand of my knee
and pleads “Where is my bed?”
“I don’t want to sleep on this hard step again.”

But steps are all I can see
one step for food, the next step
maybe someone will smile.

There’s Healing in Your Story

When I went through training in journal and poetry therapy, one of the mantras threaded through our work was “Change your story, change your life.” We spent a lot of time rewriting stories and talking about how shifting the narrative could result in a more positive outcome.  That’s why I wrote my post for Mad in America about overmedication and recovery–I couldn’t change my mother’s story, but I was determined to change mine.

The post details my story of overmedication and its harm, along with my  mother’s story. When I found my father’s records about her illness, I was shocked to see that Mom received very little therapy over the years, but year after year, psychiatrists prescribed barbiturates, amphetamines, Thorazine, and antidepressants. People tell me that wouldn’t happen now–but my story, 35 years later, parallels Mom’s. Mom and I suffered needlessly because of overmedication, and I hope to be a voice for change so others don’t experience the same fate.

I hope you will read my post, “The Answers in the Attic: A Mother-Daughter Story of Overmedication and Recovery.”

Upcoming Classes and Events

I have a few summer events scheduled as well as one for September. I’ll have more details and registration links once they are posted. Hope to see you in a class soon!

Thanks to everyone who came to the Roland Park reading. You were a great crowd, and I appreciate your support!

Hamilton Street Club, June 5, 2019, Baltimore  12pm-2pm
I will discuss and read poetry from my 2015 volume, The Altar of Innocence, which explores ideas associated with family secrets and trauma and the many ways a family is affected by the serious emotional struggles of other family members. Because I have training and wide experience in using poetry and the arts in healing, I  will also  discuss how poetry and journaling can be used to reach those who struggle with the all-too-common human experiences of severe emotional distress.

Currere Exchange: Conference in Oxford, Ohio  June 12-14, 2019
I’ll be presenting a proposal for an art installation exploring my mother’s journey to conquer her nearly 40 years of depression and anxiety. Using a variety of artifacts, including letters, prescription records, and insurance forms, I detail my mother’s journey and raise questions about the nature of depression and the current models of treatment.

Jump-start Your Creative Writing: East Columbia Library, September 11, 2019 1-2:30pm (registration details coming soon)
Do you have stories inside just begging to be told? Do lots of great ideas fill your imagination? Is there something you want to say but you don’t know where to begin?  Then this class is for you. Ann Bracken has published numerous essays, interviews and two books of poetry since she began her writing career. During this class, students will explore a variety of basic techniques to enhance any type of creative writing you want to pursue, including memoir, fiction, and poetry.  In this class, we’ll explore and practice using image and figurative language, specific and concrete details, and varying the pacing and rhythm of lines and sentences. All of these techniques can help to propel your writing from good to great.

Poetry Reading: Voices That Are Always With Us

Ann Quinn and I will be reading from our collections on April 4, 2019, at the Roland Park Branch of the Enoch Pratt Library from 6:30 -8pm. More information is available if you click on the link below. Hope to see you there!

                    Altar of Innocence cover art                    Final Deployment

Voices That Are Always With Us:  Memories are full of many images, and none are more powerful than the voices of those people in our lives whom we’ve loved and who have challenged us. Ann Bracken and Ann Quinn will read from their collections of poetry dealing with memories whose power has shaped them and inspired their writing journeys. Come for an  evening of poetry and conversation with two local authors.

 

Energy Magnets: Exploring Memories to Craft Memoir

Florida Creativity Graphic

I’m looking forward to this year’s Florida Creativity Conference in Sarasota running from March 29-31, 2019. My good friend, Kathy Leydon Conway, and I will be offering a workshop on poetry and memoir on Saturday, March 30th from 9-11am. Here’s a graphic and a link below for registration. The conference is wonderful, and the people are fun and interesting. Give it a try!

Register now for the 2019 Florida Creativity Conference March 29-31

 

Creating Community One Stone at a Time

I first experienced Zen sculptures about ten years ago when I visited Sedona, AZ and walked along a riverbank that was crowded with such towers. Each of us on the trip built one, but recently, I haven’t thought much about them until I went to Thoreau’s cabin site near Walden Pond. Visitors had built rock towers around the periphery of his cabin’s foundation, and I was quick to add one of my own.

Zen rocks, Brian Potts, photo credit

One morning afterI returned from visiting Walden, I was walking in my neighborhood and passed a large, flat rock that is in a median strip in front of an apartment complex about a block from my home.  On a whim, I picked up a few stones and built a Zen tower.  For the first couple of months, I was the only one building towers, sometimes every day, and sometimes I’d build two.  Building the towers became a vehicle for mindfulness because  I walked the same route nearly every day, and it was easy to let the scenery slip past.

But like a seed that takes awhile to germinate, one day I noticed there was a tower that some unseen friend had built. Hooray! I thought, someone connected with me and is joining in the fun. By early October, when I was about to leave for a two-week trip to Europe, there were three towers on the main rock and one tower on each of the rocks in the back of the median.  I smiled. The idea was catching on and gaining a life of its own.

The rock towers were still there when I returned.

Close-up of Zen rocks, Brian Potts, photo credit

Why is this important to me?

Sometimes when I think of how busy all of us are and how much we’re isolated in spending time with our screens, I lament that we’re losing a sense of community. I never see my neighbors in the apartments and have never met anyone who lives there. I know a few people in my immediate area, but I rarely see the folks who live on my street, and I’ve never told anyone about my Zen project. But I am a firm believer in the power of positive energy and shared consciousness. And now I have proof of my connection–or at least my idea’s connection–with my unseen neighbors. We’re truly in this together–one stone at a time. One idea at a time. One good deed at a time.

 

Armistice Day After My Visit to Flanders Field

A powerful reminder

I recently visited Bruges in Belgium, a small and charming city that is very close to the town of Ypres and Flanders Field, the site of the Western Front during The Great War.  I wanted to see the sites as a way to participate in  commemorating the 100th anniversary of the Armistice. I knew I’d see cemeteries and statues, but I had no idea how I’d feel as I spent the day with my tour guide, Philippe, and my companions for the day–four people from Ireland, two from Canada, and one from Italy. All of them had lost grandfathers during the war. My two grandfathers did not enlist, probably due to their ages. Still, as an American, I felt that it was important for me to witness the ground where so much sacrifice and destruction occurred over 100 years ago.

The truly awful fact is that The Great War, or World War I, still lives in Europe, especially in the small, quiet towns of France and Belgium.

Unexploded shells from WWI

The war lives in the unexploded shells that farmers find when they plow their fields.
The war lives in the sinkholes that trap people because they’ve built over an old trench. The war lives in the chemical weapons that are still lethal after 100 years.
The war lives in the Canadian, British, Australian, New Zealand, German, and Irish cemeteries that cover former battle fields.
The war lives in the red poppies that decorate the grave sites and fill the fields in the spring.

One of the youngest men to die in The Great War

Poet and author Madeline Mysko used a piece from The Sun archives that declares Nov. 11, 1918 “the greatest day in the history of the world!” But the reporter wisely spells out the deeper meaning of victory for the readers:

“It was a victory not so much of material things: of ships and rifles, and cannon, and gas, and men’s lives, as it was a victory of the spirit, a spirit that even in the darkest of days did not acknowledge defeat, the spirit that never would admit that might was right or that brutality and savagery could triumph over humanity and kindliness and love and the decent things of life.”

In Europe, they call November 11th Armistice Day, literally a day to celebrate the cessation of  force, stopping the use of weapons.  We have sacrificed greatly in our many wars, but those wars do not live on our soil.  I wonder if the destruction and pain of war, the futility of force to solve problems, would be more real for us as Americans if we found unexploded shells in our fields?  If our children fell into sink holes when they played tag in the yard?

May we pause and reflect this Armistice Day.

A memorial of poppies