WAITING FOR BAIL: essay

Reprinted from The Kalamazoo News, copyright Michael Fountain

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.... He’d said the same thing to three others that night, each of them coming into jail for the first time. I recognized the emotion behind it—he was trying to convince them that he wasn’t just part of the system, that he was a human being in a hollow place. I used to work in such a place; I used to talk the same kind of bullshit.

.... I wasn’t sure how to feel about this. I felt gratitude; I also saw it as just one more way they get you on their side, get you dependent on them.

.... When you’re in a place like this you walk, sit, eat, answer questions or silently wait according to their schedule, the schedule of the institution, and a friendly individual will get you hooked on the smallest taste of human decency so that you start to think of that particular cop—the cop who lets you keep your clothes on, the cop who flips you a book of matches—as my cop. You watch him move behind the desk with the others; you feel a small sense of panic when he drifts out of sight. His face is the face of Daddy, Uncle, God; the other guards, acolytes of the institution, are bland, unfriendly blobs. ...

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Provence, Three

Photos by Patricia Relf Hanavan with exception of the Alpine marmot; look for her books at Amazon.com.
1) Yelling at beggars from the window of Michel and Maureen's house in Vergons. Built in the 1700s along a winding street.2) "Ils sont fou, ces Americans." 2) Former Congo bush pilot Gilbert supervises truly dangerous animals: Americans moving a sleeper couch. This room had been used as a smoke room for hams; Michel, Bridget and Maureen cleaned, painted, papered, and dug out the beams, floor installed by Michel et moi.
3) People all around the world, they'll be dancing in the gitte...
4) Wedding gifts: every home should have one.5) Maureen teaches Bill the forbidden Nipple Dance.
6) Mike Martin on the Fossil Hunt, wearing Ann Anson's hat against the sun; a touching Victorian moment, posed in a meadow as "The Flower Fairy".
7) A complaint was made about the profound lack of nymphs and dryads bathing in the ancient springs; Louise attempts to make up for this.
8) B., Pat and Bill, with a Provencal marmot in an Alpine hat that yodels when you squeeze it.

Provence, Two

Photos by Patricia Relf Hanavan
1)The real mayor of Vergons is Sallie (pronounced Sall-EE), who lives with Claude and helps in the garden and restaurant but really covers the whole town. Intelligent and sympathetic, as interested and patient with small children as with the elderly. A champion boar hunter, too, almost killed when one fell on her. Sallie has been placed in our pantheon of all time great dogs.2) Prosper and Nicole, Michel's sister, gave a Fourth of July celebration for the Americans. A local Gypsy chanteuse with Che Guevara on her guitar sang wonderful songs, and Whiskey, part corgi, part sheltie, part God knows what and all adorable played quietly or napped at her feet.
3) The path up La Chamatte.
4) Wild boar, sanglier, running from dogs in a non-lethal boar hunt. Pat aimed at the first and caught the second on camera. Like the bear, you know it's really a forest and not just a tree park when there are wild boar present. Endured much contempt because I was the one who really wanted to see a wild boar, and everyone else kept tripping over them. I finally saw a group at dusk with seven striped and spotted infants. It would do a lot of Americans a world of good to have a potentially dangerous animal in their midst.
5) Local fossil hunt: myself, Dick Anson, Louise and Michael S. Lots of ammonites but no really big ones.

A Wedding in Provence, Part One

Photos by Patricia Relf Hanavan
1) The village of Vergons in High Provence, as seen from the peak of La Chamatte, the mountain overlooking the town.
2) "Sometimes Life acts like it's still living in Paris in the Twenties" (Tom Robbins). Louise and Michael S. played "La Vie en Rose" at the end of the mountain meadow ceremony, and everyone in the crowd spontaneously began to sing along, for chorus after chorus.
3) Walking back from the ceremony; the church was built in the 12th century.
4) Louise, Maureen and Emily try to epater le bourgeoisie, but there were no bourgeoisie to epater.
5) Fabien and I arm wrestling at dinner. There was no clear winner, many reverses, and our decision to place a live scorpion under each hand was vetoed by the rest of the party.
6) Prosper cuts a rug. He and Benoit both had that knack of making every partner-- Pat's shown here-- look magically graceful.
7) Dr. Xenia of Zurich and Dr. Bill of Kalamazoo. Another great dancer (I think she was a Heinlein character in a former life), all the women were jealous and all the men a little in love with her.
8) Beryl and David-- "The Two Bobs"-- here to represent the British Crown and confer with Michael S. I've always wanted a correspondent's summer suit like David's.
9) The back ridge, as seen from the top of La Chamatte. ... and my first experience of altitude sickness. I could walk 35-50 steps, then hit a wall, rest and repeat all the way to the top.

Why should a dog, a horse, a rat have life, and thou no breath at all?

When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
Before high piled books, in charactry,
Hold like rich garners the full-ripen'd grain;
When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour!
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unrelenting love:--then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink.

-- John Keats


Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone.
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message (S)He is Dead,
Put crépe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

(S)He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song,
I thought that love would last forever: 'I was wrong'

The stars are not wanted now, put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

-- W.H, Auden; "Funeral Blues"

I grieve for you, O Mary most sorrowful, in those anxieties which tried your troubled heart at the loss of your beloved Child Jesus. Most holy and afflicted Virgin, Queen of Martyrs, you stood beneath the cross, witnessing the agony of your dying Son. Look with a mother's tenderness and pity on we who kneel before you. I venerate your sorrows and I place my requests with filial confidence in the sanctuary of your wounded heart. Present them, I beseech you, through the merits of His own most sacred passion and death, together with your sufferings at the foot of the cross. To whom shall I have recourse in my wants and miseries if not to you, Mother of Mercy? You have drunk so deeply of the chalice of your Son, you know our sorrows. Holy Mary, your soul was pierced by a sword of sorrow at the sight of the passion of your Divine Son. Intercede for me and obtain for me Knowledge, and Forgiveness, and Peace for Our Troubled Hearts if it be for His honor and glory and for my good. Take our little soul to your bosom and love her as we have. Lamb of God, Who takes away the sins of the world, Have mercy on us. Amen.

-- Prayer in Honor of the Sorrows of The Blessed Virgin Mary