Pat Conroy Musings

Within the last six months two friends from different cities in the South have contacted me to say they are (or were) getting ready to see author, Pat Conroy in person. One in Atlanta, Georgia and one in Jacksonville, Florida. I found it an honor in a quiet way that each of these old friends were inspired to contact me about their individual evenings spent with Mr. Conroy of Fripp Island, South Carolina. Inspired by my friend's inspirations, I have this week finished another full reading of Conroy's The Prince of Tides.

As always I am again humbled by the writing of Pat Conroy. I am sorry that he will most likely never find his way personlly to the Land of Enchantment as it would be a high pleasure to meet him and to express how much I have enjoyed The Great Santini, The Water is Wide, The Lords of Discipline, South of Broad and My Losing Season. I have not read The Boo nor his 'recipe' book.

His writing to me has been an inspiration as a teacher, as a coach, as a Southerner, and as a writer. My latest read through of The Prince of Tides has spoken to me again in ways I am unable to put to words. I decided in this reading to not underline nor highlight but I found myself writing out various passages...One of these spoke to me: "The South requires that you give up too much of what you really are to even consider living here". This was spoken by the poet, Savannah who after much chaos, moved to New York City from the fictional island of Colleton, South Carolina. To the surpirse of some in 1981, I left my Native born Jacksonville, Florida after 30 years of life in the Bold New City. After four years in Tacoma, Washington ('bout as far as I could go from J-ville) I ventured to the high desert of New Mexico where I have been since 1985.

After moving away from Jacksonville, I found that a lot of my writing then became about Jacksonville. The view from other hillsides can be a brighter thing than being there. While living in Tacoma, I had a chance to become for three weeks, a "Ferlinghetti Fellow" at the Atlantic Center for the Arts in New Smyrna Beach, Florida It was one of the most truly 'poetic' three weeks of my life ever. We worked alongside Lawrence Ferlinghetti in the day and ate seafood with cold beer in the evenings...Poetry Heaven.



The Palmetto Poets
with Lawrence Ferlinghetti (1984)

I am left from my embroiled and deep read of The Prince of Tides with an appreciation of my upbringing in the South, with a sadness about my disconsolate birth family, and with a deep respect for anyone who can write as beautifully as Pat Conroy...

A poem I wrote while a Ferlinghetti Fellow is called, Well-Kept Secrets. Times were different in 1984 when I penned the poem and the secrets I knew then were such mild ones...

WELL-KEPT SECRETS I saw my mother in a mirror set up to keep me isolated I have never liked systems I worked eight years in a system where kids were dollar signs and teachers pawns I quit that job and started to laugh again I spent a lot of time with my gandmother as a child I played with antique walnut blocks creating cities and trains I know friends who are drowning in comfort CAPTIVE AND COMFORTABLE or ENDANGERED AND FREE I have watched the great crawl to cocktails and weekends HE WHO OVERCOMES HIMSELF FINDS FREEDOM You get what you need and I need to sing I need to sing whether or not it's a weekday whether or not my grandmother is alive whether or not silver platters come in clouds whether or not I really want to go on with the rest of my life I have heard the great psychic cry for help from America from my best friend from men from women and children first and last and my own voice is hoarse from my scream that comes at dawn The more my spiritual sponge soaks up the cosmic good the more clear I am about my need to sing my song to begin on the floor with walnut blocks snaked into trains to see that I am a well-kept secret heading true north to somewhere hidden in dreams of day and night that surprise me from time to time like herons on railings in rain porpoises in the night or the dream I had about the Pope I went to supper with him first then we went to a United Nations meeting and the Pope jumped around on the Chinese and Russian diplomatic tables BREAKING ALL THE RULES and as we left Ringo Starr sang YOU KNOW, IT DON'T COME EASY and the Pope held me on the sidewalk and I cried real tears for peace and I spoke about reaching out through music You get what you need I need to sing and peace will not come dropping slow by itself and peace will not come on white death trains carrying rockets and peace will come from divine beings with true compassion and peace will come with the voice of angels I must gladly learn and gladly teach and peace will come with humor wit and a desire to BREAK DOWN THE WALLS And kings and bishops priests and presidents must gladly learn and gladly speak with the laughter of love and the music of their heart because HOLY VISION must prevail and the Pope must hug the poets crying real tears for peace while somebody sings IT DON'T COME EASY You get what you need I need to sing I need your love I love I love I love I love you and I'm on my way to Paradise where I always get what I need where I am re-entering the landscape where a growing confidence in myself gives me the freedom to play to let go to flow without a script to ad lib the music to breathe deep the poetry to sing my blessed song Jeff Hartzer copyright 1984-present from Jeff's book, FLAMINGOS