Poetry, Slammed

I should probably be cultivating a greater reference for Robert Frost within the next generation.

After all, we live in New Hampshire, and the Frost Farm (now something of a minimalist state park) is about 12 minutes from our doorstep.  Moreover, there is no greater expression of one's enlightened moral and cultural sensibilities, at least for the 60's-molded generation that taught us in high school and college - than a devout reference to the man or his work.  But of course, I never quite "took," as these things go, and I'm starting to fear that maybe Ian, too, will fail to be initiated into an appreciation of Frostian greatness.

Not long ago, I was telling him about Frost's poem "Two Roads Diverged," - there was a context to it, but I don't remember what - and I explained that it's a poem about a guy who came to a fork in the road and chose to take the more roundabout, challenging road, rather than the quick-n'-easy one - and this turned out to be the best decision he had ever made.  I also probably hinted that there was a deep metaphor to the whole thing - it wasn't all about Mapquest algorithms, after all.  And Ian reacted with a brisk absence of sentimentality to the whole thing:

"Yeah, that's definitely something worthy of being made fun of."

(December 17, 2013)