Down with Bowne (The Uncut Version): Recent Episodes
Walter T Bowne
Walter Bowne is a humorist, a writer is serious fiction, or so he likes to think, and creative nonfiction about his crazy adventures. He may also speak about books, family, history, flowers, and gardening, and his belly button. Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/walter-t-bowne/support
A sonnet to my then girlfriend, Mary Jane, in 1994. Married in 1995.
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A sonnet to my then girlfriend, Mary Jane, in 1994. We were married in 1995. Cheers!
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A short poem for my wife, Mary Jane, during this busy time of her life.
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Happy Every Day, Madeline, Five, Twenty-Five, or Eighty-Five
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A sonnet for Mary Jane on the rock where I proposed
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A poem for my daughter Nancy.
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IN MEMORY OF MY GRANDFATHER, RICHARD GOLDHAHN
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Walking in Windermere without Wordsworth with three lasses. Cover photo by the author. Lake Windermere, UK. 1990.
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Changes need to happen in order not to become post-literate. Are we creating life-long readers? Or life-long haters of reading?
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PLAYING THE FIVE CARDS: Communion with the Past is Tongued with Fire from the Present
Cover Art: The Northern Chesapeake Bay. (link)
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With enough to remember, I revisit some old memories. Butterscotch image by Joe Dyer from Buckhurst Hill, England. CommonsWikipedia Link
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Rock and roll, after all, has its roots in gospel and the blues. Cover Art: The Rolling Stones in Oslo, Norway. (Link). “Let’s Spend the Night Together” translates in Norwegian as “La oss tilbringe natten sammen.”
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Intervening in the conflict between predator and the innocent
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A Sensual Education: The Father Who Falsely Thought He Had It All Figured Out. Music by Music by Daddy_s_Music from Pixabay. And cover art: Diana by Augustus Saint-Gaudens at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Wikipedia Commons.
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The varied blooms resemble water lilies — floating on liquid air.
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I promised God I wouldn't do any more stupid things if He helped me. Photo by Lanis Rossi.
Music by Julius H. from Pixabay
Wegenlied - Brahms' Lullaby - Classical Flute Selections
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And other lessons for keeping your garden and lawn fresh and organic
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Another Day in Room 605. This was the prompt from my Editor In Chief, Alanna Stein. Music by Daddy_s_Music. Pixabay. Music by
Captive Voice is Not Free. Foolishly filling the hole with three lies.
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Drilling in America: The lesson for class changed once the announcement was made.
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Tale the First: A serialised, satirical novel of Americans on a European tour.
This is the opening for satirical novel, Overland to the World, a collection of interrelated tales about Americans on a European coach holiday, which has been published in serialised form on Medium. As a pretentious and affected Anglophile, I purposely used the “s” instead of the “z.”
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Dump the boring classics with these engaging modern novels. Reading is Knowledge. Photo link: Young adult literature. Link
Dear Directors of Language Arts:I’m writing to inform you of the exciting titles on tap at Boontown Books for 2022! Are your teachers and students tired of the same old language arts curriculum? The Outsiders? To Kill a Mockingbird? Diary of Anne Frank?
Big yawn, right?
Today’s children just don’t like to read. And is it any wonder?
Traditional middle school reading selections, while classics, may just be the issue. These new titles will encourage reading and stimulate critical thinking skills — as well as entertain today’s multi-tasking, pre-literate youth who were reared in front of screens and pixels....
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"An hour passed. I remained inside the red Kia Sorento on the sandy drive of The Aunt’s ‘double wide deluxe’ trailer house.
In that hour, I reconstructed the collapse of my universe, including our arrival in the States at Philadelphia International. Why no Littleman kin there to greet us? Did they lack propriety?
A storm had been brewing, but no rain — only winds and ominous, threatening skies direct from King Lear — my mum’s favorite play.
On the drive, we passed The Town Tavern — the parking lot jammed with motorbikes. There were no “pubs” in America, The Father told me.
On the red doors of the bar, a sign read: No Colors.
Was that racist? Not only offensive but archaic?"
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Photo by the author. First published in Age of Awareness: https://medium.com/age-of-awareness/the-tower-in-pisa-finally-tumbles-a95a7830ab42?sk=dc521e58aa98ed180ce4c813f34358e1Parting May Not Be Such Sweet Sorrow
We had separated in Pisa, Italy because we were driving each other crazy.
Laura had taken the train to London to stay with a “friend.” This was August of 1990. I was twenty-one. Three weeks traveling with me through Europe was more than enough.
The story of Europe and the further troubles in England is a miniseries mock-u-melodrama for another time when my tears and shame will become a much longer comedy than this anecdote of humor and humility.
In Pisa, I recall turning my back, and suddenly Laura, with her blonde hair and slender figure, with the hair in that high, one-can-of-hairspray-a-day-routine, as was the fashion in New Jersey then when a lighted match or a flick of a Bic was a real thing to fear, was surrounded by four Italian guys in the leather market.
Of course, there was a fountain in the middle of the piazza. Was it deep enough to drown my sorrow?
The stereotype of Italian men is true. Let no one say otherwise. One of those Italian lads had more sex appeal in his pinky cuticle than I did in my whole body. I was slightly overweight then, despite the 20K steps we took each day. I was jealous. Why weren’t they coming on to me? I’m not gay, mind you, but those guys were gorgeous. And would they buy me a leather jacket?
They also didn’t look like they had been backpacking for three weeks either.
Laura wanted to shop. I wanted history. And to trangugiare more Italian food (gobble) and request pastries in a series of ridiculous hand gestures.
Anyway, she had enough of me, and I agreed that I had enough of me, too. I was such a drama king.
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"I was the first to arrive at Newcastle-upon-Tyne. My ramblings were over. From London, BritRail rushed me north with my battered hunter-green backpack with as many books as clothes and dirty underwear.
That color had faded in the Mediterranean sun. Had I faded, too, from weeks of traveling? Was I ready to study?
I settled into Lovaine Flats (Flat 10. Room 3). My fine custodian, both caretaker and mother, was Lorraine. I made her my specialty: Chicken Hawaiian over rice.
A few things were hard to find in Northern England. Like pineapple. The plates and silverware came from an expensive store in Eldon Square, like Macy’s. What did I know? Thirty years later, I still have them."
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Walter Bowne awakes from a dream on November 23rd, and hits record. https://cloud.speechvid.com/bgmusic. The image from the author’s dream on Wednesday night, November 23rd. Link. Waddesdon Manor Link. Photo by Elliot Brown. Image by the author/ Pixlr.com.
*“The poet’s eye, in fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;
And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet’s pen
Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.”*
― Shakespeare William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream
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This map hangs proudly in our “map room” of our family room. The different colored pins chart the places we have been as a family and as single explorers
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A satirical novel about a London lad in serialised form.
With the spare change in my trousers, I made a copy of Emily’s letter. One day I hope to publish “The Collected Correspondence of Thaddeus Littleman.”
Would such an audience exist for innocent and pretentious musings? Who would ever purchase such poppycock?
The Waterford Library was a bright oasis — inside — with new, earth-toned rugs, fresh paint, almost mauve, with comfy, cushioned chairs for reading by the windows — with four orange chairs around a circular table, laminated and clean. I’m writing now in the Study Room. For writing, sometimes I love sound — like the bustle of a London coffee house — and other times, like now, I want to be sealed away from the world and pain.
It’s sound proof, in here. I hear my thoughts reverberate on the narrow walls, like a being living confined to a coffin. Or a monk in a dorm, copying the Word for readers that will one day exist, long after death; a light in the darkness; a quill in hand, hands stained in ink, creating in long hand on dried, stretched lamb’s skin what will eventually be called Times New Roman. The candle burning — the light, ambient enough, the wax collecting like a queer stalagmite on the writing table.
A medieval link to the modern world. Art in Darkness. Oxygen in a sea of brainless sea anemones — minus the colors vibrant.
The outside of the Waterford Library was a different story — it was, perhaps, the only place alive in a strip mall dead or near-death stores — including a market that had once been called “Murphy’s.” It would have been brilliant to have a market for fresh produce so close!
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“Stop Breakin’ Down” from Robert Johnson never runs out of gas. First published on The Riff: https://medium.com/the-riff/this-stuff-may-bust-your-brains-out-96afada20c5c?sk=3468d213ee77299137791cce2f262092
I first knew this song from The White Stripes. 1999. I mean, I’m a huge Blues fan. An Alt-Rock Dude. Classic Rock Dude. Of course, I knew the music of Robert Johnson — but I didn’t know he recorded the Original.
Stupid, me. I just ordered the Complete Collection of Robert Johnson on Amazon. When it comes to music, I don’t like being stupid. But I still buy CDs. What gives, man?
I started researching “Stop Breaking Down.” Many great covers. You will love this, man — or woman. I promise. Hang on to your Les Paul Gibson L1.
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Using rain water helps Nature in so many ways, and it’s easy. First published in The Environment. https://medium.com/the-environment/rain-barrels-help-with-more-than-the-water-bill-3f7895901ccb?sk=526c54653c03d1fc50646a0cf3de872d
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It would also make the cut for great anti-Vietnam War songs. Pigs savor the spoils of war in the killing troughs of France during World War I. (link) (link). Image by the author. Pixlr.com. First published on The Riff. https://medium.com/the-riff/add-black-sabbaths-war-pigs-to-your-heavy-metal-playlist-2f8dd8f5659b?sk=40b63d4ec97714ce550a7ee2c4c13441
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JUDGING THE JUDGERS: ‘We don’t need your judgement or your jealousy’, Wally says.
There are ‘lunks’ here at the gym, but we have to conceal our ‘shameful’ identity
And because we have to stay secretive, we don’t feel in a ‘safe place’ — even with the silent eye stares from grannies and grandpas who are trying to stay in shape — and alive. And I say, ‘God bless us — every one — even ‘the lunks,’ and even ‘Tiny Tim!’
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Literary magazines beg authors to return to writing for free.
Beloved Writer, We noticed you have not submitted any poems or short fiction on Submittable to us with the required $25 reading fee. We really miss those fees. Well, as the reader, I really miss those fees. Can you blame me? Can you picture such an erudite and ambitious guy like me working at Dollar General?
Heck, I’m publishing one of the best literary magazines in the Dakota Territories — and I can’t do that for free. I know. I know. It took us — me — and my tatted biker BF, like — what? A year to get back to you regarding those delightfully mediocre poems you sent us?
Yes — but we — I mean, I promise not to take so long to reject your work.
I may even have the time to offer a line of criticism, for you to consider. And when I do publish you in The Prairie Dog Digest — circulation 500 and growing— I promise to send you a copy that you can print and give to your boyfriend and mom, depending on where you get the chapbook published.
Best,
DeAnna deGruntë
Editor
PS: You haven’t been writing for Medium, have you?
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GEOFFREY CHAUCER, REFURBISHED: A parody of the General Prologue from “The Canterbury Tales.” Trafalgar Square on a Summer Evening. London. (link). First published on MuddyUm. https://medium.com/muddyum/yanks-on-holiday-fc8c64b684f1?sk=14e829da992877e8e1c7ffe05f3f8aa2 Here bygynneth the book ō̆ver behōste tō the worldHere begins the book Overland to the World
*When in June and the spring showers end —
And disperse the rains to the heavens, and send
The pigeons to peck the crumbs at Trafalgar —
And prompt the public to thumb the vernacular;
When Admiral Nelson, with his commanding physique —
Choking from exhaust fumes and pathogens discreet —
Gazes upon his Square, teeming with tourists,
His glories known only to the purest;
When Londoners are all cell-a-Tweetin’ —
Who text away with fingers a’ bleedin’,
(So Nature's a stage where Shadows do play) —
Then the Yankees partake a holiday.
A fortnight feast of the ripe, old Country —
Tales uncoiling with bathos, and ribaldry;
From England ‘cross the Continent to Rome —
To snap a pic of Saint Pete's to text home;
Through a coach window they'll take The Grand Tour,
To tick off the sites, gleaned from a brochure.*
This is the opening prologue for my parody-mock-satirical novel, Overland to the World, a collection of interrelated tales about Americans on a European coach holiday, which has been published in serialised form on Medium. As a pretentious and affected Anglophile, I purposely used the “s” instead of the “z.”
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Gunnen: Dutch: Finding happiness in someone’s happiness because you love them so much. First published on Paper Poetry.
*"To awake before the dawn seems foolish —
But it’s the early nurseryman who wins
While the shadows on the vines seem ghoulish;
The vines this morning seem like twisted strings —
And the red berries hide in the moonlight,
Shielded beneath the enclosures of green;
But bashful, not, is the color scarlet;
I seek my breakfast before your dawn’s flight
Like prowlers upon the scene, routine,
Like a game, we aim for the same target."*
*"O, for that flavor tart we both adore —
The night cools the raspberries with blessings;
At least within my shelter I can store —
But that nectar serves as your dressings —
As I would address a bowl of salad. But I’ve grown tired of this morning game —**The seeds don’t settle well in my belly!
The sun conducts a vivace ballad —
A thrilling trill of vines we each can claim;
Can I, at least, harvest some for jelly?"*
*Unlike the finches, I am not afraid
Of you as you sit on the patio
You made to mind; you harbored in the shade;
For this feast, you know, you’re fine, Daddy-O!
Don’t you relish how I hang upside down?
And I’m in heaven, already, today!No technology makes me a machine!
And need I gas to fly around town?
Do I owe any dude a debt to pay?*
“I’m a catbird. But please call me Eugene!”
*You know, these slender barbed stalks don’t sting me
Like they nettle you. Is that why you ceased?
I know you have a wife, man, where is she?
During my feast, I delight you, at least.
For why would you ponder there all alone
With never any artificial sound
To cover my musings to you, my friend?
We each, right, seem to know something unknown?
Something profound planted here in the ground?
Dangling on the vine where we both depend?*
*How you warble, Gene, for moving water!
O! how you squawk for the bird bath refilled!
O! how like that of, then, my young daughter!
Both! O! how they thrilled! How they chilled, spilled! You love the natural water from the drum,**Sans chlorine from the plastic garden hose.
Yes, and then you frolic and roll and shake —**My daughters would water dance until numb!
Glowing blue with rapturous joy to their toes!
The cold lake would snap anything awake.*
*You’re awake, of course, now while I’m asleep.
I have trouble drowsing due to unease.
At times, at night, I wander in too deep.
My bed takes on water from inner seas;**But then I think of you — your happiness —
And I recall jumping from the Crow’s Nest —
Leaping from Dad’s boat on the Chesapeake —
That boy again in all his flashiness!
And the decades seem they have never left.
With such faith, I could fly to any peak!*
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In despair and lonely, and devoid of culture, Thaddeus Littleman, 12, writes a missive to his lady love, Emily, back in London.
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As soon as Thaddeus Littleman arrives in Atco, New Jersey with his American father from London, after the death of his British mum, Thaddeus experiences life in America the way he always feared: getting shot at by The Cousin with a paintball gun. This is a satirical, serialized novel. Enjoy.
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How I re-enacted George Orwell’s fable with my daughters.
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Finding that door to get out of the labyrinth. Cover art: Plasticine Labyrinth. By Peter Shanks. (link)
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Twelve rolls directs the growth of the daisy poem. Walter Bowne wrote this on dice throws for the meter on the Dutch theme of gunnen. Dice rolls: 2–3–6/ 5–3–3/ 3–1–6/ 5–3–6
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Gunnen: Dutch: Finding happiness in someone’s happiness because you love them so much
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Th’ expense of spirit in a waste of shame.... this is NOT the sonnet they'll teach in school. But so well worth it. Photo credit: Peasant Lovers by Ferdinand Georg Waldmüller (1793–1865. (Link)
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A short review on one amazing story of young love.
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Isolated in three distinct sections, three characters run in the opposite direction of happiness. "At the end of the short story from Dubliners, the last story James Joyce devotes to adolescence, the slim girl of nineteen, Polly Mooney, hears her mother, the Madam, call from downstairs..."
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Composed in the youth of my irrational exuberance at 22 in 1992.
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A writing lesson turned into a lesson about dying and living
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My first concert: A crazy time with Dad does not take away crazy times with Mom.
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Dan Norbury and Walter Bowne, beer dudes and book dudes, begin their series called Flights of Fancy. In Part I, Dan and Walter drink a fine stout, Gravity Road from Forgotten Boardwalk in Cherry Hill , NJ. They also discuss Robert Bly's influential book on the tale from the Grimm Brothers: "Iron Hans" and male initiations.
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Applying Rhetoric to Your Writing. Hey there. Walter Bowne here. So. ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray,’ and the ‘Preface’ to Dorian Gray. Fantastic piece, right? Oscar Wilde added the Preface after he received so much heat and hate for the late Gothic and philosophical novella. A deep dive into the work: Enough context, right? I’ll use rhetorical terms for you to know and understand and also use in your own writing. Application is everything. Photo by the author of Wilde's grave in Paris.
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IN MUSIC, WE RETURN TO THE SOURCE OF OUR LOVE. South Jersey was full of losers, but I was the one, pulling out to win. Published in The Riff: https://medium.com/the-riff/on-thunder-road-with-mary-jane-3897a7d25827?sk=6e81623b114f1ef0869f2f89f2c09b03
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Two poems make me ponder gratitude and acknowledgment. Original essay link here: https://medium.com/the-masterpiece/these-winter-days-as-a-snow-man-98407a333c41?sk=1334bf8e0260e6da4bee154ee86cc4a8. Photo by Lanis Rossi (Lancaster County, PA). Photo used with permission.
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I was transformed from what I witnessed from my window. Original story published on The Environment: https://medium.com/the-environment/adjusting-our-inward-and-outward-senses-to-the-rhythms-of-nature-bdb393960a75?sk=4bdae89f3f3f243202ca11172ca5529c
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We must do more than pray our way around the inconvenience. Original story was published here on The Masterpiece: https://medium.com/the-masterpiece/thou-shall-not-interrupt-mass-with-the-messy-randomness-of-death-c0e0a0436d6e?sk=32eebce00d448d759ada2f573236dbb2. The image comes from St. Andrew’s Catholic Church, located in Roanoke, Virginia, USA. Link.
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What were we doing ‘hangin’ round’ in Colorado, anyway? That became the catchphrase for the entire trip. Whenever we got into trouble or tent blew off a mountain, and I had to trek across the tundra to Walmart for a broom to use as a tent pole or those damned Mormons — no marmots were attacking us for our Snickers bars, and one of us would say, “You know, what are we doing hangin’ ‘round?” The original printed essay is here, published in The Riff: https://medium.com/the-riff/michael-nesmith-saved-us-on-phantom-canyon-road-b5521bbb52f4?sk=f89829fa4e958d30b0697d5ea203bc67
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Chapter 31 illustrates the upside-down world of morality in the Antebellum South and the center of Huck’s moral crossroads
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Walter Bowne and his daughter Nancy Bowne discuss what makes a great cover song, and review a few from their growing list of "deep cuts." Hope you enjoy!
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Family photo albums are cunning deceivers. That wasn’t what I expected from a visit to my mother’s, but that’s what lingered. Of course, I didn’t share this revelation with my mother because no single criticism sticks to her children — even when we’re slathered in Gorilla glue. Why should the family album not place the same emphasis on conflict and crisis as the great novels and the famous scores that reveal the indomitable human spirit and struggle?
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A short story from “Overland to the World”. What did every woman want? What does every woman want? Is there such an answer? Why did she feel so dumb, Eleanor thought, in the company of men? Westminster Abbey. Image by Alfred Derks from Pixabay.
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A Dug-Out of One's Own: High-cost creative writing programs are having difficulty competing with zero-cost jails. The original essay was published here on MuddyUm: https://medium.com/muddyum/an-ivy-league-lit-scout-offers-a-confession-dd6cccd6d6c9?sk=17875f0e91ed98350817f997c2c9454f
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Chapter 3: The Feast of an Innocent: Thaddeus should have retreated, but irrational hope was always one of his cardinal vices.
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Chapter 2 — A London Lad Learns Loads of Loathsome Facts
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In the first chapter of this serialised novel, "Confronting More Than One Gunman," the reader is introduced to our young hero who feels like a stranger in a strange land. Thank you Hudba od umelca GoodBMusic z lokality Pixabay for the music, as well as Wikipedia Commons for Union Jack and Thaddeus.
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‘We don’t need your judgement or your jealousy’, Wally says.
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Literary magazines beg authors to return to writing for free.
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The Judgement Zone: The wide windows offer onlookers field of vision for critiques
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A sonnet by Walter Bowne. Composed in 1991. Age: 22.
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Walter Bowne speaks of swans and Nature and instincts when thinking if Bryant's poem as he walks with his wife in Cape May, NJ
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Written in 1991 by Walter Bowne. So it must be emo bad, right?
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Composed in 1994 to his girlfriend, and soon wife, Mary Jane Murphy.
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Walter Bowne confronts Grey Mr. Death in the North of England while being a little Morrissey in 1990.
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What grammar has taught me.
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A poem for Nancy when she was 9 months old in 2002.
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A free verse poem.
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Never trust your inner navigator when traveling in the wilderness. Scenic Jersey and Arizona are quite different — scenic in Arizona may just mean death. A simple line on Google maps, in Arizona, doesn’t necessarily mean quicker — just potentially — the end of the line for your family.
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The Very Best in Show.
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Happy Every Day, Madeline, Five, Twenty-Five, or Eighty-Five
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Composed for Noelle and Andrew on their wedding day: August 10, 1997
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A story I wrote in 1989 when I was twenty, traveling across the Big Horn Mountains with my family. It sat alone at the bottom of my drawer until I started to use its basic good structure and frame and imagery and updated for 2021 at 51. I hope you enjoy.
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Only 17 and 20, my brother and I followed the call of the Piper. This is an excerpt from Day 5 of our three-week trip across the country with my mom, my brother, and my sister in 1989. I was 20. Throughout the trip with the pop-up camper, I kept a handwritten journal and typed the journal soon after. The journal is over 200 pages. This excerpt was only moderately edited and updated from the original.
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In these uncertain times in education, we have to remember why we’re here.
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In memory of Robin Williams, the man who inspired so many.
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A simple boat ride on The Chesapeake Bay reveals more about the divisions in the family than the problems with the boat. A short story by Walter Bowne. First published in Inkwell. Fall 2010.
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Allow James Joyce to take you away from politics and COVID-19. It’s 1904. Welcome to “Ulysses.”
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Department of Education Washington, DC. Office of the Secretary of Education The Honorable Betsy DeVos
RE: TOOLKIT UPDATE: IMPORTANT MEMO TO SCHOOL ADMINISTRATORS! FORM LETTER FOR INEVITABLE TEACHER DEATHS WILL DECREASE YOUR WORKLOAD.
Dear School Administrators,
In order to safely reopen schools across the country, a “tool kit” is essential for every school administrator who wants to stay on top of the proverbial curve of the pandemic. Our suggestions include a 'closure” form letter for students and teachers. An “exposure” form letter. Let's say Substitute Bob gets COVID-19, and he possibly “exposed” COVID-19 to 200 children and 50 teachers. You see what we mean?
Do you want to write that many letters? We also highly recommend a form letter when “teachers or students” take a ride on Charon's old ferry boat, to use a pleasant euphemism for those sudden and grisly COVID-19 deaths. Again, think of all those letters!
Administrators can happily and easily use this form letter for the community if a teacher, sadly, but necessary for the health of our economy, passes due to COVID-19. Moreover, an administrator who happens to take over for a recently dead or retired administrator, untested in times of strife and death, will be thankful such a letter exists. An updated form letter will be forthcoming for any potential student "passings" into the Shades to parley with Achilles and Mentor, let's say. We love our mythology here at the Department of Education. My associates here affectionately call me Hekate. Isn’t that adorable? But in all seriousness, here it is: (Add date)
Dear community,
It is with (tender/utter/complete) sadness that I write about the loss of (Teacher A). (Teacher A) was a (fine/excellent/dedicated) teacher. (Teacher A) will be missed by all, except for (Student A) who thought (Teacher A) was too strict and gave too much work. If there was a bar, (Teacher A) set that bar to (10, 11, 12). (Teacher A) loved teaching (subject). (Teacher A) was born to be a TEACHER.
There was nothing else (Teacher A) lived for. (Teacher A) worked (forty/fifty/sixty/seventy) hours a week, and graded (types of assessments) on weekends while (add friends) were out partying or playing (tennis/golf/pickleball) with (husband/wife/special someone). (Teacher A) worked at this (amazing/wonderful/supportive) school for (# years). (Teacher A) gave the last full measure of devotion to the incredible craft of teaching, our noblest and most honored of professions in The United States. As you (may/should) know, America treasures its teachers more than any other country, with the possible exception of (Ireland /Finland /Poland/ South Korea/ Russia /Japan /Germany/ Denmark/ Mexico/ Spain/Chile/Guatemala).
We here at (add school, duh), did (everything/ everything possible within budget/ everything possible within the laws of science and virus mutation) to ensure the safety of not only (Teacher A), but all those who still remain in our (time-honored, precious, God-projected) (abode/ house/ refuge/ institution) of (learning/ baby-sitting service). (Teacher A) leaves behind not only an empty (classroom #), but also (amount in pension and sick days) and (add wife, husband, children, cats, dogs, fish, long-time paramour).
(Teacher A) wanted to do (add three things) in retirement. Colleagues who remain in the classroom said (Teacher A) was a (good/ great/ phenomenal/ God-like) teacher and “(loved/dearly loved) the students.” (Teacher A) was (hell-bent/determined like a Crusader) to return to (classroom), even knowing the (danger/risk/utter fear). Our reopening plans were (amazing/ well-considered/ half-baked/ forced by gunpoint by budget cuts).
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Let's talk about the stereotypical characterization of Meyer Wolfshiem and the read life Arnold Rothstein.
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Dan Norbury and Walter Bowne sat down by a fire outside on Halloween 2020 to talk about what happened back in 1988 during Spring Break in Atsion, New Jersey.
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Walter Bowne and his wife, Mary Jane, discuss, on a nightly walk, what scares them the most about modern society.
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One late summer afternoon, when I woke from a terrifying COVID-19 dream, I found myself transformed on my couch into the übersexyrockicon Jim Morrison.
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What’s makes us remember those from the past? Perhaps they exist in a realm of our own making, not as real people, but in the preserved fantasies and fables that never really go away.
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The breezes were lovely during a whale watching adventure in Cape May many years ago, but I was about to observe and understand something very important. Okay, more than just one thing, actually.
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It's more chutes when Walter Bowne tries to negotiate the language in Québec; it's more ladders when it's fun time with the family.
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Walter Bowne talks about three teachers he met two summers ago who were working year-round to pay off high student loan debt. There are lessons here, and it may be good to listen.
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Working from his home studio in the Media Mecca Capital of Cherry Hill, New Jersey, Walter Bowne introduces the crazy class of AP Lang and Comp to his rising juniors. Welcome Aboard, scholars. Episode #1
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Walter Bowne talks in the car with his 18-year old daughter Nancy Bowne about music. Actually, Nancy talks, and her dad makes idiotic comments.
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So what's so interesting about a compost pile in my local community? Check out my podcast. This was first published in The Courier Post. 2014.
https://www.courierpostonline.com/story/opinion/columnists/2014/09/21/commentary-compost-pile-draws-inner-selves/15998423/
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I discuss the need for simplicity and frugality when considering buying a house. This was first published in The Philadelphia Inquirer many years ago, but the message, I hope, is needed now more than ever.
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Walter Bowne talks about ambition.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hgyW0XH0bOs
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A three week pilgrimage to England with Dr. Wolfe from Rowan University is the backdrop to this short tale about finding my calling as a writer and as a teacher. Let us all follow our passions.
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Perhaps I needed to heed more the commandments of Walt Whitman.
In a world still so divided, perhaps we all do.
First published in The Philadelphia Inquirer.
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So many of us have lost the art of the chat. In my part of Jersey, coffee addicts whiz in and out of convenience stores, checking the time on Blackberries. We even scan our own groceries. But it wouldn’t be morning in Elmer without coffee and neighborly parlance with the charming, country counter girl. It wouldn’t be morning in America either. First published in Philadelphia Stories.
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Selecting pansies at a local nursery in Southern New Jersey with my young daughters was the last place I expected to confront an unfulfilled sexual fantasy. It was early spring, a warm Saturday, a day for our perennial optimism about the future, but today it was all about the past.
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Marcel Proust had his madeleine cake. I found this picture, and then suddenly I'm in Inverness, Scotland as a student, and the past becomes the present, and what was forgotten is summoned back, and out rolls a brand new story . . . and quite bittersweet.
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First published in The Phildadelphia Inquirer, this essay explores the glory of a mere 1,200 steps in the morning, and what we can learn from walking.
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Walter Bowne learns an important lesson about being generous and charming from a 2nd grade boy while on a Cape May Whale Watching trip. It makes him remember the many mistakes he made when he was young in regards to romance.
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What happens when a father confonts his daughters about saying goodbye to all the stuffed animals.
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Crazy stuff can happen at a used book sale at the local library.
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This transcript from the London Transit System reveals the concerns of passengers about suspicious activity while on public transit.
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This may have been overheard or recorded during a student admissions interview at the prestigious institution.
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When looking back on our children, once so young, and us younger as well, it's essential to recall the qualities we recognzied then, and perhaps forgot, that them who they are and we are now. It's not about the pain of nostalgia, but about the revisiting and reseeing to be inspired to take even more steps forward as a family and as individuals.
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When looking back on our children, once so young, and us younger as well, it's essential to recall the qualities we recognzied then, and perhaps forgot, that them who they are and we are now. It's not about the pain of nostalgia, but about the revisiting and reseeing to be inspired to take even more steps forward as a family and as individuals.
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This short lecture made for AP Lang and Comp charts the gothic themes that have made gothic elements (madness and decay) a Southern tradition. Nostalgia, rooted in the Greek word for pain, is one of its main culprits. I discuss "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn," "A Rose of Emily," "A Good Man is Hard to Find," and "Steetcar Named Desire."
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Gardening and parenting are very much alike. In very many comedic ways. First published in Motherly. https://www.mother.ly/parenting/parenting-and-gardening?utm_source=sumome&utm_medium=facebook&utm_campaign=sumome_share
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Transport for London (TFL) released the following recorded messages from its database of confidential hotline tips during the week of 14 April, 2014. Names in the messages have been edited. First published in The Big Jewel. http://www.thebigjewel.com/suspicious-activity
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Walter Bowne shares his essay on the joys of gardening. First published in The Philadelphia Inquirer.
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Walter Bowne knows he can play as well as Messi. The US team needs his talents. It doesn't matter he's 45.
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Walter Bowne talks about a typical day writing.
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A personal shopper at a fictional grocery stores makes a few changes to the order.
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Women are not the only ones who are used as trophies. In this satire, first published in on The Short Humour Site in the UK, I mock the ways women are treated. It is, however, not based on my own reality. After all, I have not been very good for my wife's career. lol. Enjoy.
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