Twenty Years Stardust- Remembering Tom Natell

 

It’s twenty years ago this week that Albany poet and activist Tom Natell passed away, after a long dance with throat cancer. The day of his passing, he was scheduled to take the reins of a new open mic at the Lark Street Tavern, a favorite hangout for artistic types around the city. Word got around, and the reading took place anyway, evolving into an impromptu memorial. His ex-wife and son were there, as well as his partner Maryann. The back room was packed, and poet after poet took the mic to express their appreciation for all Tom’s work promoting local poetry.

I first encountered him, I believe, when I was newly single and eager to drive anywhere to read. For many years he hosted Readings Against the End of the World, an annual event that was briefly revived pre-Pandemic. I was pleased that I managed to find my way to Willett Street and the old 8^th Step Coffeehouse location all by myself, and that I was able to take part in what I considered an important event.

Later, I moved to Albany for a year, ostensibly to complete my MA in English. I learned more about poetry and life at Tom’s QE2 reading than I did in any of my UAlbany classes (no offense, UAlbany, but the Ivory Tower turned out to not be my thing.). He showed me what a good host does, leaping on and off stage, offering information about other events, and mainly keeping the show moving along at a brisk pace. Although my years there was brief, it was a rich and varied experience, and the poetry scene was a big part of it.

For years after, I tried to keep up. I would work my miserable shift at Cosmodemonic Communications, leap in the car, and head up to the Lark Tavern, or the QE2, or to any one of the various readings held each week. I was stronger, and somehow supernaturally motivated to exhaust myself attending these events, in addition to whatever was being offered here in the Kingston area. It was an exciting time.

Even 9/11 didn’t slow the pace, but these things go in cycles. There are times when  a poet can’t possibly keep up with everything going on, and other, leaner days when one a month anywhere can be a blessing. And then there’s love.

I can’t blame everything on love, except my survival, my sanity, the fact that a good fit is to be prized more highly than even a well-turned phrase. My Beloved moved in in July 2005, just a few months after Tom’s passing. The three years before, in addition to frequent dashes to Albany, also included weekends in Central New York to spend time with my boyfriend. The move was made, and suddenly I had almost no reason to leave the house. In the days before Door Dash, we shopped and cooked and loved like crazy. Did my writing suffer? Not in the least.

I’ve been so lucky to have landed here, and so lucky that the poetry community has welcomed me so sweetly. I couldn’t have imagined as an awkward teen on Long Island that my life in the future would be so full, so completely satisfying. Granted, the path here has not been without its potholes. But at this point the old cliché applies—I would not change a bit of it. I’ve survived, worked hard, written hard, and created a home and life for myself to the best of my ability. Thank you, Tom, thank you, Albany poets, for showing me how it could be done. I learned what my priorities should be, and proceeded in the correct direction. 

 

 

National Poetry Month 2019- Part One!

Above is a photo of me at Readings Against The End Of The World, my bad side, already exhausted from all the hubbub of National Poetry Month, and I was only halfway through. April 2019 seemed like a busier Poetry Month than usual. Maybe it’s because I’m more focused these days on the art, or maybe I’m just putting myself out more places, or maybe I’m getting a little lazy and might just like to stay home once in a while and peruse Netflix without planning for some reading or another all the time. In any case, I attended several terrific events, and spent most of May recovering from the whirlwind.

The April feature at Calling All Poets in New Paltz on Friday the 5^th was El Presidente Himself, Thom Francis. Although a vital force in the Albany Poets organization, Thom doesn’t often feature much these days, perhaps because of the demands of his newer roles of husband and father. It was a treat to hear Thom again. His work is fresh and energetic. His delivery draws the audience in with direct attention. Thom is at once intimate and unapologetic. His was one of the superior readings this spring at CAPS.

On Saturday, April 13^th, I did a rare “double-header,” and read at two completely different events, at opposite ends of the Hudson Valley. I signed up online for the 11:00 a.m. slot at Wordfest’s “Readings Against The End Of The World.” Revived just a couple of years ago, RAEW was created by Tom Nattell as a marathon reading showcasing the diverse voices and views of Albany poets (with a small “p”). It’s now hosted by Jil Hanifan and Mary Panza, and is truly a 24-hour event. A few years ago, I was up for sleeping on the floor, but time, love, and knees no longer allow for such excess. 

Stay tuned for Part Two of my April Poetry Odyssey…

National Poetry Month- Not Just For Poets!

Some of you non-poets out there (and if you’re a non-poet and reading this blog on a regular basis, you have my undying gratitude) might have the impression that National Poetry Month ranks right up there with “National Salami Sandwich Day,” or “Grandparents Day.” It may at first glance give the impression of being the Hallmarkiest of Hallmark Holidays, spread out over thirty of them. However, unlike those other gift grabs, National Poetry Month requires no sending of cards or expensive gifts (unless you’re so inclined… PM me for my address)!

National Poetry Month was started by the Academy of American Poets in 1996, but the need had existed for years. Remember all those little quaint schoolhouses you see in the movies where pupils painfully stumbled through poems they’d been forced to memorize? Well, those days are long gone. Even when I was in grade school, for the better part of the 1970s, poetry got short shrift in lesson plans. If it hadn’t been for my mother reading to us from a wonderful collection called The Big Golden Book of Poetry (long out of print, but much sought after), I may not have been exposed to much verse at all. And without trying, I committed long passages to memory about Little Orphant Annie and the Owl & the Pussycat that ring around my brain to this day.

Bullwinkle the Moose was a poetry supporter early on, too. His short segments on “Bullwinkle’s Corner,” introduced several new generations to the likes of Poe and Wordsworth. Without changing a word of the poems, he and Jay Ward created amusing visual interpretations that illuminated the work in a new way, as poetry should be enjoyed uniquely by each new reader or listener.

It’s probably still the case that outside of literary circles, not much is heard about National Poetry Month. Around my house, my Roommate is pretty sick of it already. I’ve got two short gigs booked already, including “Readings Against the End of the World,” sponsored by Albany Poets on April 21^st. I’ve signed up for 11:00am, and there’s still space on the open mic list if you’d like to join me. As Dan Wilcox reminds us, “In Albany, every day is Poetry Month!” Not every city is so lucky to have a wizard like Dan to make that true.

Here in New York’s Hudson Valley, live poetry is on the upswing once again, despite the apparent demise recently of two longtime readings. Check your local listings, or drop me a line. Better yet, I’m always up for a drink or dinner in April, if you’re craving a lengthy discussion on the merits of literature in the 21^st century. And, I’m always up for a free meal in April.