Three Poems about the Seventies
I remember the language
of my early youth, a bit
more colorful than today's,
when racism was prejudice,
feminism was women's lib,
and sexism male chauvinism
(or often, more colourfully,
being "a male chauvinist pig"!).
I remember Inauguration Day
for Jimmy Carter, how bored I was
by the telecast which I was watching
on the black-and-white TV
of an elderly Italian lady
for whom my mom was briefly
a homemaker. The screen
was scarcely seven inches wide.
Or was that the TV I was watching
at home, in Mom and Dad's room,
after Mom (and I, who had been
with her for some reason I forget)
got home from the lady's house?
I remember seeing The 700 Club
in TV Guide's listings with the simple
descriptor "Religion" and asking Mom
if I could watch, and her cautioning
(but not exactly forbidding me)
"I think it's a Protestant show."
I was far too young to know
that "Protestant" was a wide dragnet
catching everybody from radical
Episcopalian bishops to toxic
prooftexters and firebreathers.
I think I peeked at ol' Reverend Pat
and was bored stiff by his religion.
Poetry by Thomas D
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Written on 2021-01-04 at 12:57
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