Thirteen Ways of Looking at Dwight D. Eisenhower
The natural world gives us our primary metaphors. What signals the feeling of unexpected change better than a midwestern summer thunderstorm? The sky shades into green-gray and we know, suddenly, that something is coming and we better find shelter. For many of my students, the world is a series of these storms and one place they find shelter is in a poem.
Knowing how many of you are in quarantine this week, nesting and sheltering however you can, I’d like to offer you one of my favorite unexpected poems and the story of how it came to be. It’s another excerpt from my essay in the Alaska Quarterly Review, this time focusing on a poem written with a student I met while teaching a poetry workshop at the Open Book through the Autism Society of Minnesota.
Max and I had just finished our first writing session together, or were about to, when he stood up and declared in a firm voice, “Next week I want to write about Dwight D. Eisenhower.” Given that we’d spent our last hour writing poems about hockey and animated sheep, I was momentarily stunned by Max’s announcement. “Absolutely,” I said after I’d gathered myself, “I’ll write his name down on the next page, just so we remember.”
When Max arrived the following Monday, he made a beeline for the seat next to me and said, “I’m ready to write about Dwight D. Eisenhower.” I asked if he knew much about our former president. “I know that he was president from 1953 to 1961,” Max replied, “And I know he played hockey.” I said that was a fine start. Opening up my laptop, I suggested we get to know Ike a little better before we started to write our poem. We scoured several websites, cherry picking facts here and there. Ike, like any human being, was quite interesting when you gave him a good look. I could tell Max was starting to get antsy, so I shifted to a discussion of form.
“Can I show you a poem?” I asked him. He nodded. I opened up Wallace Stevens’ classic poem, “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.” We read through the poem once and I answered Max’s questions about the vocabulary: pantomime, innuendo, euphony, equipage. He liked how each section of the poem offered its own perspective on the blackbird. The ideas, though difficult to grasp, seemed to excite him. In preparing to write he took off his shoes, much like a character in a film takes off his shirt when preparing to fight.
The poem began in a plainly factual vein:
Thirteen Ways of Looking at Dwight D. Eisenhower
1
He was an active boy.
He played hockey.
2.
He was president from 1953-1961.
He was a great president.
Here I stopped Max to ask if we might follow Wallace’s lead, reaching beyond the plainness of “great” to something more vibrant. Max smiled wide and said, “deluxe.”
In the third section Max stated that Ike was liked. I asked Max why Ike was liked. He thought about it for a moment and his eyes brightened, as he seemed to catch something unexpected: “I think people liked him because of his smile. And also he made the interstates.” Despite the present-day debate around automobile use and carbon footprints, I agreed that these two things were eminently likeable. Section four covered his military career. Section five focused on his establishment of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration: “He created the NASA space company / that goes up into space.” I wondered aloud if that final line of section five might not desire some rewording. I pointed out the grammatical nuance, but also the flatness of the phrase “goes up into space.” Max erased the line, thought for a moment, and then wrote, “that blasts off past the stars.” What an improvement! I told him how much I admired the assonance of his new line, how “that,” “blasts,” and “past,” all deftly echoed the central syllabic sound of “NASA.”
In section 6 he retired. Section 7 delved further into Ike’s likeability and social graces. Section 8 detailed his love of opera. To recap:
3.
People liked him
because they enjoyed his smile.
He came up with the idea
of interstates.
4.
He was a veteran
of the second World War.
I think he did a good job
serving as commander.
5.
He created
the NASA space company
that blasts off past the stars.
6.
He retired in 1961.
He lived in Gettysburg.
7.
I think he was attentive
and thought a lot
about people’s feelings.
8.
He cherished opera
because the singing is charming.
The ninth section began, “I think Ike liked tasty foods….” For the past few sections I’d noticed Max’s eyes moving toward the far window of the room. Outside the clouds were accumulating, darkening. Even the light in the room was changing, growing dim and ominous. I attempted to refocus Max on the poem: “What kinds of tasty foods?” Without turning from the window he replied dreamily, “Hot dogs and snowflakes.” This is where it becomes clear why, to paraphrase Frank O’Hara, I am not a history teacher. I let Max continue to stare at the gathering storm while I added his answer and read the section out loud:
9.
I think Ike liked tasty foods
like hot dogs and snowflakes.
Max offered no corrections, so I asked him what the next section would be about. “Can we write a weather poem?” Max replied, standing to get a better view of the black-green sky. I told him I would love to write a weather poem. That, in fact, I had written a whole book of poems called Becoming Weather! Max lifted one of his eyebrows. But…I also felt strongly that Dwight D. Eisenhower deserved to know his final four ways. I could tell that Max wanted to please me, wanted to finish the poem, but that he also couldn’t tear himself away from the storm, which I had to admit was now a churning spectacle of monstrous proportions. Finally, he turned to me and said, firmly, “I have to write a weather poem.” I could see there was no hope for Ike. Just as I was about to relent, my eyes returned to section 9. I had an idea. “Max, do you think it might be possible to combine our Dwight D. Eisenhower poem with a poem about weather? Section 9 already set the precedent.”
Max immediately sat back down. “How?” he said simply. I thought for a moment and then asked if it would be possible to reverse-personify Ike, to choose a kind of weather to represent him. Max typed: “I think he would be a rain cloud.” I asked him what Ike’s voice sounded like. He smiled and typed: “Loud like thunder.” I asked him if there was any other kind of weather he resembled. He looked at his earlier answer and then typed and said simultaneously: “I think he would be a looming rain cloud.” I told him how much I admired the specificity of “looming.” Then his smile and eyes both widened. He pressed return and then typed: “I think he would be a downpour.” He read the line out loud with manic emphasis, his voice rising on downpour into an ecstatic squeal.
“Max,” I said, “I love this poem.”
Thirteen Ways of Looking at Dwight D. Eisenhower
1
He was an active boy.
He played hockey.
2.
He was president from 1953-1961.
He was a great president.
3.
People liked him
because they enjoyed his smile.
He came up with the idea
of interstates.
4.
He was a veteran
of the second World War.
I think he did a good job
serving as commander.
5.
He created
the NASA space company
that blasts off past the stars.
6.
He retired in 1961.
He lived in Gettysburg.
7.
I think he was attentive
and thought a lot
about people’s feelings.
8.
He cherished opera
because the singing is charming.
9.
I think Ike liked tasty foods
like hot dogs and snowflakes.
10.
I think he would be a rain cloud.
11.
Loud like thunder.
12.
I think he would be a looming rain cloud.
13.
I think he would be a downpour.