[Vision2020] Fonk's Goes Under

[Jennifer McFarland]

 Visionaries:
Dan's mention of Fonk's reminded me of a poem my father wrote, so I asked
him for a copy of it to post here.  What follows is his response to me along
with the poem.  I included his response because it mentioned where it had
been published.  I hope you all enjoy the poem as much as I always have.

--Jennifer


PIO Jennifer L. McFarland
Latah County Sheriff's Office
Public Information Officer
PO Box 8068
Moscow, Idaho 83843
(208) 882-2216
Fax (208) 883-2281

Truth is the summit of being; justice is the application of it to affairs.
***Ralph Waldo Emerson

 
-----Original Message-----
From: Ron McFarlnd [mailto:ronmcf at uidaho.edu] 
Sent: Thursday, January 12, 2006 08:45
To: 'Jennifer McFarland'
Subject: RE:

Wow--talk about a blast form the past! I'll have to dig this one up, all the
way to "Eight Idaho Poets" (1979)--huh, first appeared in a very good
literary magazine, "Quarterly West," back in 1978. Ahhh, the good ol' days!
Amazing, too, how poorly the binding on 8IP is--the cover just comes right
off! 

Okay--did it--I think it's all right--just altered one word (next-to-last
line of penultimate stanza, changed "were" to "formed." I guess I could have
made other alterations, but I thought it should stand pretty much in its
original form. Of course some of it IS "made up" (like the new manager
stuff), but most of it is accurate--as I recall, at any rate. It was
interesting to go back to this one--not a bad poem, I'd say.

Thanks for asking!

Papa

"Fonk's Goes Under"


When the last dime store went under
prices dived for days. Shoppers
strange to the manager seeped
in, then poured until
he propped the doors open,
fore and aft, and still they streamed
in from the parking lot,
in from the street,
in from shopping centers outside town.

At first the counters held,
Duvella's luncheonette to port,
men's sportshirts starboard,
hardware, toys and tropical fish
for ballast.
But then the galley cooled.
Duvella told the reporter
about those young couples and the war,
the mirror with Guadalcanal dead
reflected when she turned
from certain faces to her grill.

Without Duvella the store listed badly,
took on too much empty
space. Slowly the salesgirls
abandoned their posts
slipping away after five not to return,
replaced by the stern manager,
facing hardening to his martyrdom.

At last prices floundered and the store
filled with the smell of dust
and cold popcorn.
Plastic firetrucks with missing wheels,
tin boats without motors,
unmatched socks and empty hangers,
these formed the flotsam on a slick
of memories and outdated profits.

At Main Street's edge
oldtimers gather reminiscing of oiled floors, 
propeller fans, Duvella, the old man whose son 
tried hard but didn't have it, 
the new manager, what was his name?
went down with the last dime store.

	Ron McFarland


-----Original Message-----
From: Jennifer McFarland [mailto:jmcfarland at latah.id.us]
Sent: Thursday, January 12, 2006 7:55 AM
To: 'Ron McFarlnd'
Subject: 

Dad,
Could you email me a copy of the poem "Fonk's Goes Under"?  It has become a
topic of discussion on Vision2020 and I thought it would be a neat thing to
post (with due credit).
--Jen

PIO Jennifer L. McFarland
Latah County Sheriff's Office
Public Information Officer
PO Box 8068
Moscow, Idaho 83843
(208) 882-2216
Fax (208) 883-2281

Truth is the summit of being; justice is the application of it to affairs.
***Ralph Waldo Emerson