We recently had a door installed in our house. John Morearty is a
70-something neighbor, self-proclaimed door expert and retired Philosophy
professor. John also plays the shakuhachi, which is a Japanese flute. I
thought to play some inspirational music for John, while he was bringing out
the hammers and the boards and the nails. So, I set up the boom box and
turned on "Both Sides Now." Following is the resulting poem by John. Hope
you enjoy reading it.
Catbs elbow
Valley in January, left elbowbs got the rheumatiz,
time for sabbatical from saws and hammers.
Short days are nice indoors,
working computer, playing the shakuhachi,
eating apples and reading b Twelfth Nightb in the rocking chair
by the sunny south window.
Maybe take a walk.
But my new neighbor Lou,
the young philosophy prof,
needs a door on his back porch.
The old one has no hinges or knob,
just sits there stuck in the opening.
In a fire, theybd have to push it out,
and try not to break their necks going down the stairs.
Not only that, but Loubs new neighbor Leslie has cats
and no way for them to slip in and out,
just a crummy broken metal back porch door.
Cats are at her all day long,
and shebs fixing to adopt a baby.
Leslie needs a door, and two cat doors too.
When can you please do our doors, they say.
Soon, I hope, if my elbow will take the load.
Week after next? Okay, Ibll try.
Pace myself, just work along steady;
itbs been November since hanging a door.
Haul doors from the lumberyard,
hinges weatherstripping doorknobs and deadbolt,
load up my truck with seven or eight toolboxes
and gray horses with all the saw cuts on top
plus two big padding blankets for the doors,
and roll red truck down the block on a bright cold Tuesdaymorning.
Elbowbs okay so far.
But the first thing Lou says is
oh and by the way, webve got a cat now,
can you put in a little cat door
in the bottom of the wooden one?
There goes forty five minutes, and then I put it in backwards
and have to take out the screws and turn it around.
Finally the sun is warming up and so am I
but out the back door comes Lou
and we get to yacking about philosophy
and Jesse Jacksonbs baby and sex and politics
and webre having a good old time in the sunshine
and before you know itbs late in the morning
and I havenbt even cut the hinges.
So I send him away and get out my chisels,
hang the door and yes it almost fits,
plane blade is dull but a little touch of the belt sander and itbs good,
drill out for doorknob and deadbolt and put them inb
and the deadbolt wonbt fit!
One of those new-fangled Schlages Lou bought,
half an hour fooling around,
did their damn engineers ever hang a door?
Enough for today, go home and eat a cheese sandwich.
WednesdayB buy a new deadbolt, put it in,
do the weatherstripping, and home by lunch.
Thursday morning Ibm at Lesliebs house
and moving in the groove today, no fooling around,
the door goes in, the locks go in,
plus a cat door plus another one in the kitchen door,
and Leslie comes out and plays Joni Mitchellbs new
Both Sides Now real loud,
photos she took herself of the singer years ago,
and standing by the sawhorses in the backyard sunshine,
I really donbt know life at all.
Weatherstripping goes right in, and I go home.
Elbow hurts a little more,
but Ibve got some money, and a poem.
Philosophers are happy,
and so are the cats.
Copyright John Morearty 2001
Leslie Mixon
