A Spiral Notebook / Known To Be Left

Reading the poem “A Spiral Notebook” by Ted Kooser (1939-present) I couldn’t help but wonder how’s it going to be when I get older. Currently I’m in school, and use a spiral notebook daily, so I was instantly fascinated with the poem. The first lines compare the notebook’s wire to a porpoise, a marine mammal closely related to dolphins, differentiated only slightly by its face, fin, and figure.

“The bright wire rolls like a porpoise

in and out of the calm blue sea

of the cover…”

I relate to this image of “ocean of knowledge.” Under the cover of my notebook there are notes on Algebra, Government, and Literature. My campus is the only CUNY school with its own beach, and I love walking by the water in between and after classes. Also, there is an actual aquarium in the Marine and Academic Center building! Water means a lot me, and I consider it a symbol of calm, strength, and wisdom. The comparison is thoughtful, and easy to understand, a signature trait of Kooser’s writing.

Kooser explains that he is describing a “5 SUBJECT NOTEBOOK.” He then reflects on how at his age his attention span can no longer accommodate that many subjects.

“…It seems,

a part of growing old is no longer

to have five subjects, each

demanding an equal share of attention,

set apart by brown cardboard dividers,

but instead to stand in a drugstore,

and hang on to one subject

a little too long, like this notebook…”  

Kooser was in his 60s when he wrote this poem. I am half that age now, but when I get closer to Kooser’s age, will there still be spiral notebooks? Will I be able to relate to people half my age and younger, or will I even know what devices are used to take notes in class? Will my attention span be able to accommodate more than one subject?

Reading the poem “Known to Be Left” by Sharon Olds (1942-present) I couldn’t help but wonder if it will get easier when it comes to love and break-ups. Olds gave me an affirmation, if not much of a consolation. Her poem is about the end of a 30-year marriage, and what it feels like dealing with it for an adult.

“I guess that’s how people go on, without

knowing how. I am so ashamed

before my friends – to be known to be left

by the one who supposedly knew me best,

each hour is a room of shame, and I am

swimming, swimming, holding my head up…”

I can’t comprehend the idea of a marriage 30 years long, that’s just short of my entire lifetime. Yet I’ve brushed up against these emotions dealing with a relationship only a year and a half long, my longest so far. Olds’ words show me that love is love, no matter what age, or length of a relationship. It won’t get easier, but everyone is in the same boat. What does get easier though, is being able to laugh at yourself. I notice the development of my new ability to not take myself too seriously more and more as I get older.

“…In the mirror, the torso

looks like a pinup hives martyr,

or a cream pitcher speckled with henbit and pussy-paws,

full of the milk of human kindness

and unkindness, and no one is lining up to drink.”

“The milk of human kindness” is a famous phrase from Shakespeare’s Macbeth. Olds isn’t necessarily comparing herself to Lady Macbeth, but she is definitely being witty by comparing the end of her 30-year marriage to a Shakespearian tragedy.