March Madness is in the air, so thought you might enjoy a look back through poetic windows at basketball in the 1930s.
It's not always easy finding poetry in oral histories. Not everybody talks like Will Shakespeare wrote. What you often get is a pared-down style. I use stanzas and varied line lengths to make the poems more eye-friendly.
For years I've been teaching kids to write free verse poetry by having them talk to write. We take talking for granted, but it's like old magic. It's thousands and thousands of years older than writing. I use it as a muse.
My Elders Project takes this "talking to write" to another level. Besides the value of mixing kids with elders of their communities, it has been fascinating to hear how every person uses language a little differently. Each elder has an individual rhythm to the way they say the words.
I get a lot of pleasure taking what I've learned in 40-some years of writing, and giving it back to people to help them tell their stories. I also enjoy teaching kids to do this. Until recently listening to our elders was how we got our histories (or herstories).
Leonard Kline, of Elk Rapids, was interviewed by Grace Cizma. She wrote "Forfeit" in seventh grade. She is now a freshman. Joe Hooper, of Kingsley, was interviewed by Grace Fitzimmons and Katie Jackman when they were in middle school. I think they are now juniors. I wrote Joe's poem.
Basketball was not my sport. I was a country kid and couldn't get to practice. To fill the void I made up basketball teams and leagues, and played all the games in our old barn. I had an imaginary radio sports station, and broadcasted the scores into the night as I fell asleep. If you think that was weird you should have seen me play football against myself. Maybe that will be a fall column.
Leonard Kline, 89
Forfeit
I was in the school bus wreck
in January 1939.
We were out playing basketball,
on our way
to Traverse City
to play St. Francis
in the quarterfinals.
Spectators were riding too.
Down below Yuba Hill
a cattle truck
sideswiped us,
and tore the whole side of the bus off.
Wilma Hoopfer was in the hospital
with a fractured pelvis.
Bobby Jean Beebe was in the hospital.
I was in for six days
because I got my hip banged up.
It was clear weather,
a nice clear night.
This guy had a load of cattle,
and the cattle shifted on him,
and he drifted into the bus lane.
The cattle got out.
He didn't care about us kids.
He was just worried about his cows.
"Where's my cows!
Where's my cows!"
Here were all these kids lying
all over the place,
and cows were all he cared about.
That was before ambulances.
Some people came along
and loaded me in a car.
They didn't even know
where the hospital was.
We had to forfeit the game.
I was a senior
and we were done.
-- Grace Cizma
Joe Hooper, 85
Sixth Man
I played basketball,
Oh did I!
When I went in the game
there were two things definite.
We either definitely won
or definitely lost.
We only had five shirts,
so if I got to play
the kid I replaced
had to take his shirt off
and give it to me.
I was always playing with a damp shirt.
When we went someplace to play,
you had a first team,
second team and girl's team.
Dorothy Barigam was the cheerleader.
The Williamsburg gym was a store building.
They took the ground floor out,
and we played in the basement.
We called Buckley, "The Boxcar."
The foul circles inner-wove
with the center circle.
The ceiling wasn't much
higher than the basket.
You learned to shoot straight in.
Nobody could beat Buckley
on their home court.
On defense their players would stand
two feet apart
with their hands out
and reach from wall to wall.
The ball wasn't out of bounds
till it hit the wall.
Lots of gyms were churches.
They'd take the pews out
and mark the floor.
Only St. Francis had showers.
For heat at the gym in Kingsley
there was a big pot-bellied stove.
The school put a wire fence around it
because players
kept running into it.
-- Terry Wooten
Poet Bard Terry Wooten has been performing and conducting writing workshops in schools for 27 years. He is the creator of Stone Circle. Learn more about him at www.terry-wooten.com.
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