THE SOUL OF THE LONE STAR STATE OF TEXAS

(travelogue)

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Stephen Gill

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The Canada Council sponsored my literary tour to Texas, USA, in 1990. I was in Austin in October on the invitation of Poetry in the Arts, Inc. and stayed with Peggy and Major General Edmund Lynch, the founders of this organization.

I met Peggy Zuleika Lynch, a soul of the Lone Star State of Texas, a little before 1990 when she visited New York for her readings. On behalf of Writer’s Lifeline, a literary publication, I invited her to visit Canada.

She presented her poetry at several high schools, in a gathering that was arranged for her through the City of Cornwall, at another gathering in Ottawa, and before a group of writers at the house of Asoka Weerasinghe, a prominent Canadian poet. People still remember her for her poetic maturity and the way she presented herself. I noticed she had the skills to make friends easily.

After meeting her in Cornwall, I planned a special issue of Writer’s Lifeline on poets of Texas. Peggy agreed to be its guest editor. I rushed to bring out this special issue to take with me to Texas when I came to know that the Canada Council was going to sponsor my literary tour. Poems started pouring in. Because of the limited space and short time, we decided to select one poem from each poet. We selected twenty poets. This special issue was off the press a week before I left for Texas.

Peggy sent me a tentative schedule before she left for Malta to receive the honor of Knighthood. The schedule included an autograph party, four readings, one talk, appearance on a provincial radio station and visits to historical places. When I reached Texas, the list began to grow longer. The places where I had literary activities included Austin, Houstin, St. Antonio, Dallas and Galveston. My stay in Galveston was longer than the other cities, except Austin. Both cities will remain alive in the cave of my memory.

My first impression about Texas was it is a spot that is bathed in the beauty of nature. Its capital, Austin, welcomed me with its clean broad roads covered with tall trees, houses covered with greenery, its soothing silence, abundance of smiles and an easy-going life. I found Austin a city of impressive university buildings, colleges, and libraries. There were groups of writers, poetry contests, talks, seminars and readings. Writers were enthusiastic to meet other writers. Austin had its own publications and book publishers.

I met poets who had been published in more than two hundred publications. An average poet had appeared in thirty to forty publications. Most of these publications were either local or state-wide. I also discovered that several US poets who were known in Canada were not known in Texas. I was surprised to know that it was easy for a published author, and even for those who appear in magazines, to get invited by local groups, libraries and bookstores to present poetry. There was no help for writers and literary groups. However, educational institutions like universities had extensive means to promote the arts. The literary life of Texas was an experience for me. Wherever I went, I found life, and that too in abundance. It was contrary to the literary scene in Canada.

Texas was full of small presses. Many of them had published two or three titles. Interestingly, most of these presses had produced attractive books with pleasing covers. The quality of poetry differed. Some poems could be classified as questionable in quality. However there was enough material for Texans to be proud of.

It was to my utter surprise that Texans love spicy food, unlike Canadians and other Americans. They ate food that was hotter than an average East Indian would, almost at hot as I eat. Their only competitors could be Ethiopians.

My first ever sail in a ship was here in Texas. Professor John Gorman, a prominent poet and teacher of American Literature at the University of Houston, arranged our visit to the launching of Ellisa. A handful of people were invited for this event on October 28^th. Ellisa, a ship built over a hundred years ago, was restored by extensive repairs. Complimentary breakfast was served before the ship was set to sail.

During the two hour sail, Dr. Gorman told me about the literary activities in Texas. The ship was anchored at 12:30. During our drive back to Galveston, Dr. Gorman told me about the buildings, which attracted me vastly. He told me that most of the architecture was Spanish. The Spanish people borrowed their designs from the Arabs during the days of the crusades when the Arabs ruled Spain. Modern developers use their own imagination as well. Many of the old buildings were Victorian in design.

My visit to the cottage of Joyce Hardy in Galveston was memorable. The houses on the bank of the Gulf of Mexico in Galveston were built seven to eight feet above the ground, supported by pillars that were about fifteen feet underground. These houses were made with wood. This type of house provided protection from the floods and hurricanes, which are frequent even now. Most of these people still remember the great hurricane of the nineties that claimed thousands of lives as a result of collapsing houses. Other hurricanes, that were almost equally devastating, came in the thirties and the sixties. The people expect more hurricanes and tornadoes, but less devastation due to the advancement in technology. The houses are now structured to meet government codes. Moreover, the government keeps an eye on the impeding dangers.

We reached the cottage of Joyce Hardy around six o clock in the evening. While enjoying the beauty of nature, relaxing on the deck of the cottage, Peggy suggested we try Renga, a Japanese form in which more than one poet participate in completing a poem. I looked for reasons to be excused. Dr. John Gorman wrote three good lines using 5-7-5 syllable.I had never tried this type before. To come out of that group, I joked that I needed something strong to go inside of me to get out anything in the form of poetry. My poetry was sailing inside of me on the stream of my blood. I needed a bait to catch those creatures through the rod of my pen. Peggy quickly fixed Chives Regal. Dr. Gorman refused because he had to drive back shortly. I did not want to participate still. I used that as a strategy to divert the attention of the group to something else. I failed. Peggy brought us back to Renga. She gave a try that involved everyone making suggestions for modifications.

Before supper, Peggy started another poetry session. We all read one by one. Joyce read clearly and distinctly. Before leaving, Dr. Gorman invited me to his class of Ph.D. students the next day. They were going to discuss Alice Walker, a black American writer. Dr. Gorman and I agreed that the literature produced by new citizens or immigrants enriches the culture of the country, because it is based on the unique experience of the writer.

After Dr. Gorman left, Joyce proposed to go out for a ride in her small boat. Once on the waters, I held to the rope because I was not a swimmer. I knew that swimmers are the ones who normally drown because those who do not know how to swim would not dare go into in the water. Here I was in the Gulf of Mexico without knowing how to swim. I held to the rope most of the time, fearing a strong sudden jolt could throw me in the waters. I covered my fear by joking that it gave me the feeling of a ride on the back of a horse. This anecdote remained a source of laughter for everyone with whom Joyce shared the incident.

It was so good to be in the open waters while the sun had gone. I could hear the quietness of the waves. Stars and the rising moon were peeping through their windows from the waves. Cottages were sleeping in silence. A few gulls were sailing either in the clear sky or they were moving from place to place. The invigorating breeze was touching me gently all over. I thought of the people who lived there breathing fresh air day in and day out, eating nourishing food from the hands of the mother sea. They were close to the water that signifies eternity. They cannot die easily because eternity itself takes care of these people.

Next day, Joyce Hardy drove us to one hundred year old restaurant called Gaido that was run by the same family. Dr. Gorman joined us there. After having snacks, Dr. Gorman took me to his class at the Galveston campus of the University of Houston.

Nearly all the students were teachers in their thirties and forties. They introduced themselves one by one. They were to discuss Alice Walker=s novel Meridian that is about the slaves and the problems of the black community of the United States. I compared my novel Immigrant to Meridian. Both make their readers aware of the problems of the ethnic groups. I also discussed my novel Why. I pointed out that novelists build parallel worlds to illustrate their own views or philosophy or whatever one may call it.

Towards the end, I was asked to read my poems. Students liked The World of Poetry the most. I wrote this poem , using the technique that Robindernath Tagore used for Gitanjali that helped him to win the Nobel Prize. After reading Gitanjali, I felt that I also could write poetry like that. I felt that the poet made Gitanjali a sort of enigma, by piling images upon images. That is what “The World of Poetry” does. It is all images. Students admired this poem enormously. They decided to discuss my poetry in the next class a week after. With my permission, Dr. John Gorman made enough copies of my new poems for his students.

Peggy and Joyce picked me from the cafeteria of the campus. The rest of the evening was spent discussing poetry, novels and other aspects of writing. Joyce appeared to be worried about having to select poems from a heap of submissions for a magazine called Touchstone. She had to meet her deadline. This is important to be successful in any field, including writing. We went back to Galveston. I passed most of my night writing my day’s experiences, particularly with Dr. Gorman’s class.

I came back to Austin the next day. I looked at Austin, capital of Texas, closely. It was different from any city in North America, including the other nations that I have visited. I am not a student of architecture. Yet, difference is apparent. It seemed to be a combination of Greek, Egyptian, Roman and modern designs. I came to know that The University of Texas was one of the richest educational institutions in the United States, and perhaps in the world. Austin had been the home of scholars and artists like Elizabeth Ney and her husband Dr. Edmund D. Montgomery.

Richness was blessing Texas in its journey, particularly in the area of poetry. One person who contributed to this richness in her own ways was Peggy Lynch. With her husband, Major General Edmund Lynch, she was able to establish Poetry in the Arts, Inc. in 1983. Since then it has carved its name in the niche of literary circles. The goal of Poetry in the Arts, Inc., an international organization, is to help and encourage poets through the sharing of ideas. It provides a forum for practicing poets to demonstrate their versatility and to discuss various aspects of writing poetry from their personal view. Programs are held at Austin History Center, 810 Guadalupe Street, Austin, Texas, USA.

Major General Lynch, himself a writer, told me that during earlier years Texas had mostly newspapers. Nearly all of them had poets= corners. That tradition died out when the dailies took over the weeklies. The same old tradition was being revised.

Major General Edmund Lynch loved to talk if it was to give information. He was adept in giving life to the dry bones of the past. Ask one question and then be ready to listen to a long story filled with interesting details. He had a vivid mathematical mind that was full of facts. He enjoyed his evenings with Bourbon, an American whiskey, while reading in his personal library. During those hours he used to appear calm and composed. It was a joy to be with him at that time for a pleasant conversation about history or the literary activities of Texas.

I noticed Peggy Lynch was dedicated more to the muse than her husband was. She used to become the spirit of any group of writers. She was not the same person when she was in front of a microphone. At home she was down to earth and liked to entertain her guests. When she was behind a podium, she was completely transformed into a fluent self-confident speaker, full of energy. One afternoon I was with her in her office that is cluttered with books, files and magazines. I was sipping from a cup of warm tea while talking about markets for poetry. The phone rang. Her granddaughter told her about a bad dream she had that night. She dreamt all were dead. Peggy changed all of a sudden. She spoke softly, giving advice frequently. Peggy was a kind grandmother to Carolyn, a daughter of her daughter who was a lawyer. Peggy often spoke fondly about her son, John, who is a famous novelist. At that time, he was with the military on a special mission to Saudi Arabia.

Peggy is involved with various groups of writers. I find her helpful to poets in several unique ways. She is a mine of practical suggestions. She knows how to encourage the shy and those who need assurance. I myself have learned immensely from her. Often when I phone her, she is either away in other part of the United States, or the world, either to present her poetry or participate in a conference of writers.

Peggy is restless, like Ulysses in Alfred Lord Tennyson=s poem by the same name. The Greek hero says: AI will drink life to the lees./ Toward the end of the poem Ulysses adds: “Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will/ To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.”

These lines of Ullyses epitomize the soul of Peggy Lynch. She illustrates this philosophy of her life in her poem “A True Texan” where she says:

the people who are truly Texan vie and defy

the rugged tornadoes, the demolishing floods,

the burning droughts, the inexplicable crime.

In her poem ”Evolving” Peggy appears as a philosopher, like the famous French existentialist Albert Camus. In his works, Camus analyses human=s moral position in the world. Camus believes life is absurd because human is born free, toils and then dies. Camus portrays this non-ending cycle of life in his work The Myth of Sisyphus. In the Greek legend, Sisyphus tried to cheat death for which he was punished by gods. He was condemned to push a heavy rock to the top of a hill. As he would reach the top, the heavy stone would fall back to the bottom of the hill again. Sisyphus would repeatedly come down to push the stone back to the top. That was his non-ending punishment. It is an absurd situation. Camus believed that Sisyphus symbolizes humankind. Humans always struggle to roll that proverbial stone to the top, but it keeps coming back down again. This is what life is. That is what Peggy Zuleika Lynch illustrates in “Evolving” :

Sea up-chucks

its debris.

In turn

we return

our debris

to the sea.

Its turn;

our turn.

Where is

the ending?

Poetry comes to Peggy Lynch as leaves come to a tree. Her poetry is the flow of a stream that meanders through the woods. Peggy Lynch is an admirable poet as well as an admirable speaker. On top of all this, she is an admirable friend with the generosity of spirit. Kahlil Gibran perhaps had a person like Peggy Lynch in mind when he wrote in The Prophet AThey give as in yonder valley the myrtle breathes its fragrance into space.”

Peggy Lynch has degrees in science and fine arts. She has been published in the United States, Canada, Italy, India and Africa. Her honors include a knighthood from Malta, the Houston Poetry Fest Literary Arts Award, the Poetry Society of Texas Hilton Ross Greer Outstanding service Award, and Stephen Gill International Peace Award for Poetry. She has authored and coauthored several collections of poems, and has edited and co edited anthologies. She edits an e-magazine for poets and critics, and is included in who=s who titles of the world.

Peggy’s son, John, is a famous writer. His work has been translated into other languages. Her daughter is a successful attorney. Peggy’s grandchildren are on their way to make their marks in life. Obviously, Peggy Lynch is blessed in several ways

I am going to meet this soul of the Lone Star again in 2002 at the 10^th Austin International Poetry Festival (AIPF) to be held from April 18 to April 21. The Canada Council sponsored my literary tour of 1990. The Austin International Poetry Festival is sponsoring my literary tour of 2002. My experience is going to be different from my previous one because of the active presence of prominent poets from the United States, as well as from other countries. The festival is going to be held throughout the city of Austin in galleries, book stores, coffee houses and meeting halls. The main purpose of the festival is Ato bring together poets from diverse locals, cultures, ages, backgrounds, styles and stature to transcend boundaries and to foster tolerance, friendship and understanding through poetry,@ said prominent poet and Venue Coordinator Stazja McFadyen. I expected this visit to be much more exciting and enriching.

This is going to be my second literary tour in the valley of the seven flags, where poetic breeze saunters in a festive gown of spring and where literary feasts are simmered on the mystic stove of creativity.

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(c) Copyright Stephen Gill. The article can be

reproduced or quoted without permission if the

due credit is given, mentioning the source and

the name of the author.