"We gotta stop this snoopy columnist." Jimmy Hoffa furrowed his brow. "He can't keep his nose out of our business."
Wednesday, April 26, 2017
I don't know whether I should brag or complain about this: the Nebraska Poetry: A Sesquicentennial Anthology, described as "broadly inclusive" and "diverse," has excluded my poetry from its pages. My poems are not among the more than 180 poems by 80-some Nebraska poets in the book.
Shall I brag or complain?
I think I'll brag. That's more fun than complaining.
So, why did Daniel A. Simon, editor, choose not to include me?
It can't be that I'm not from Nebraska. I was born and raised here, graduated from the University of Nebraska where I wrote my first poems in Wilbur Gaffney's creative writing class. True, I lived in New York for thirty years, but I've been back in Nebraska since 2004.
It can't be that I'm not a poet. I've written some 600 poems and given fifty poetry readings in Iowa, Kansas, Illinois, Louisiana, New York, New Jersey, Massachusetts, and, of course, Nebraska.
Maybe my poems aren't good enough?
But eighty have been published and several won awards: four Newark [NJ] Public Library poetry contests, one Feminist Writing Guild award at a Chicago printers' fair, and one the national Pushcart Prize: Best of the Small Presses.
So what was it that led Simon to choose to exclude me, and two other well-known Omaha-Lincoln poets, from his broadly inclusive and diverse book?
I give up.
You tell me.
Tuesday, April 18, 2017
Thursday, April 6, 2017
Thursday afternoon, April 7, 1977, Dad had just hauled his 31-foot Airstream trailer through Denver. He and Mama had about 50 miles to go to Fort Collins when he pulled his prized silver bullet to the side of the highway and stopped.
Mama watched him search in his shirt pocket for his nitroglycerin tablet, designed to ward off a heart attack. He found the pill box, took out one, and put it under his tongue.
After the pill dissolved, he asked, "Honey, can you drive us in?"
"Tom," her voice quavered, "you know I can't. I've never driven anything bigger than a car."
He leaned back. "Well, let me rest a bit."
THAT PUNK JIMMY HOFFA!
I Watched My Dad Beat the Teamsters
A Daughter's Memoir
by Marilyn June Coffey
Publication Date: July 30
the date Hoffa "disappeared"