Friday, September 11, 2009

A local hero remembered with a poem

I had the privilege of working with some wonderful folk when I was the City's Patient Advocate for everyone in drug or alcohol treatment. One of those persons, now gone, has been on my mind lately. I've been thinking about Nap "Don't Forget the Blues" Turner, magical blues musician. Not a saint, but he spent hours upon hours of his time helping addicts make it into sobriety. He knew it could be done because he had been down that path himself. Nap spent some time at St. E's, and while there ,came upon a stash of bent and dented old musical instruments. He had wanted to learn how to play an instrument for years, but never before had the opportunity. Bingo! Surely, they were a gift from God, he told me, a Heavenly indication that he ought to clean up his act. And so he did. It turns out that John Philip Sousa himself had stored these instruments at St. E's, and no one remembered about them until Nap uncovered the cache. He learned how to play and how to sing as a result of his discovery. Once cleaned up, he was not only a wonderful example of success for people who were truly struggling, he was also an important member of DC's artistic heritage. Do you remember his Saturday morning program on WPFW - The 'Bama Hour - Don't Forget the Blues"? I think he played Meet Me With Your Black Drawers On about once a month on the air - that tradition made me laugh every time. I'll never forget him coming to an office where I had just started work on a political campaign. It was my birthday, and I resented not being able to take the day off. The huge, beautiful bouquet of flowers he carried in brought sunshine to my soul. Nap was a true gentleman.

A SILLY FOR A SICK POET
Let's be silly.
An old raggedy gritty day
don't deserve no power
not even if I see you all hunched over
sneakin a peek round the door
past the corner of your eye
lookin for that last Horseman
the one with the scythe,
an you castin for one good charm
one extra-strong curse
that'll do the trick.
I know you.
Don't bother -
not needed.

Instead
let's thumb our noses
twaddle them in our ears
care away the grey, the sullen day
spit in its eye
stamp on the sidewalk's lines
and dare the bears.
Let's watch wrestlers on TV
and bet on the yellow tights -
let's play Hearts -
the one who cheats the most
wins.
Let's shout mysterious words
we just made up,
and laugh

Todays a day for tickles
nickels
pickles
wishes
fishes
romulo
romulo
rumph,
SURPRISE!
You gonna be just fine.


I wrote the poem for him at the very beginning of what proved to be a fatal illness. It made him feel better at the time - hope you enjoy it, too.


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