Sally Forth, Ms. Cook
“My holiday shall be
That they remember me;
My paradise, the fame
That they pronounce my name.
—Emily Dickenson
I’m well acquainted with a gal named Sally,
Whose verses span the hither and the yon—
She’s mapped more real estate than Rand McNally
And raises thoughts I tend to dwell upon.
God help the reckless man who dares to cross her
Or criticize unjustly her good friends—
She’ll wring him like a tea bag in her saucer
While she ignores his pleas to make amends.
Combative women, also, should be leery
Of challenging E.D.’s inheritrix—
Whose feminism’s real, not PC theory—
Unless they crave a trip across the Styx.
It isn’t her desire to charter ferries.
She’d rather live in peace and write a book
On human foibles, cats, and ripened cherries—
Or paint self-portraits signed by Sally Cook.
Competing Theories
“Avoid the void,” said Dr. Freud,
“Don’t let it swallow up your ego.
Let kids keep lids upon their ids,
Because wherever they go, we go.”
Said Jung, “I think it’s much too soon
To suffer your pedantic dicta.
So lighten up, you joyless pup,
Or we will ship you off to Sitka.”
“My mind detects a dire complex
That hints at issues with your father.”
“Until you’re with the pith of myth,
With your remarks I needn’t bother.”
While Sig went back to his cocaine,
Young Carl sought his Ouija board.
Though neither doctor felt much pain,
It’s never fun to be ignored.
C.B. Anderson was the longtime gardener for the PBS television series, The Victory Garden. Hundreds of his poems have appeared in scores of print and electronic journals out of North America, Great Britain, Ireland, Austria, Australia and India. His collection, Mortal Soup and the Blue Yonder was published in 2013 by White Violet Press.
C.B., the poem about Sally Cook was heartwarming and sincere. What a wonderful tribute! Those of us who have read her poetry over the years share in your sentiments. “Kids, lids, and ids” in your second poem was sonorous and striking! Great work.
I’ve known Sally, Roy, for a long time, and we have appeared on pages of the same journal since 2004. She wrote a blurb for my second book (Roots in the Sky, Boots on the Ground, and I believe I returned the favor for one of her books. You must have noticed that the second poem begins with stanzas where A-lines alternate with lines with internal rhymes only. I wonder what a Jungian slip would look like.
Kip, you always hit us with great stuff — delightful, surprising, and always perfectly crafted. K.A.N.D!
Your poem about Sally is magnificent, and utterly correct in its portraiture of her. She represents a true feminism — tough, confident, ready to defend herself and her friends, deeply loving, and utterly and unapologetically female right down to her marrow. The picture that accompanies the poem shows not just Sally’s beauty, but also her intelligence, sharp perception, and her capacity for intuition that borders on the psychic ability called “second sight” by the Scottish people. She was born to be a great painter, and a poet to boot.
I will print out your poem and send it to her at the Rehab Center.
The poem “Competing Theories” is a wonderful snapshot exposition of the fight between Freud and Jung. It was a historically crucial battle, defining two polar ways of dealing with the human psyche. Freud only saw the personal and the familial roots of mental disturbance; Jung saw that such difficulties had to be understood as being paralleled and mirrored in a collective unconscious that linked us to a wider world beyond our personal experience. Sticking with Freud is like staying locked in your private bathroom. Going beyond him to Jung is like leaving that small space and entering a huge cathedral.
Reams of paper have been used to discuss the respective views of Freud and Jung. But Kip Anderson manages to fit the core truth about those views into sixteen absolutely polished and funny lines!
You might or might not remember this, Joseph, but the first poem here passed across your desk quite a few years ago when Sally and I were engaged in a conspiracy.
What you say about the Freud/Jung thing is pretty much spot on. Freud’s take on sexual “perversions” was quite limiting and probably arose from a staid upbringing. Jung realized that there was a lot more going on in the noosphere than could be explained by animal impulses. I recall an anecdote which describes the two of them in the stacks of a library discussing (what else?) the human psyche. Suddenly the wooden shelves produced a great C-R-A-C-K! (a “poltergeist” and a telling synchronicity), whereupon Freud was shaken to his core. Or so the story goes.
Kip, I don’t recall seeing the Sally Cook poem previously. But that may be the result of being an editor who had too much material to go through.
The incident of the sharp crack sounding was real. Jung even predicted it happening a few seconds before it did. It’s recounted in his book “Memories, Dreams, and Reflections.” Jung was very much aware of synchronistic phenomena.
Freud, as a child of the Enlightenment, was constitutionally averse to anything that was redolent of mystery, magic, the occult, or the unexplainable. He especially didn’t want any of that to invade his new science of psychoanalysis, which he insisted be established on a strictly scientific-empirical basis. This is why strict Freudianism today is a rather narrow and strangulated field, while Jungian thought has gone on to have a major worldwide effect in psychology, the arts, literature, and the study of mythology.
Love these poems, especially the first, beginning with its title,
which I find very clever. Sally must cherish the whole of it.