I’ve lived in Elgin, Illinois since 1989. I moved here right out of college for my first teaching job. I’ve been minimally involved in the community; hearing stories of Elgin’s rich manufacturing history while chaperoning my class on field trips to the Planetarium, or the Gail Borden Library. Elgin has a rich manufacturing history. For example, the Elgin National Watch company, 1864-1967, located along the Fox River. There is also the Shoe Factory, 1891-1929, located on Congdon Ave. Parts of the these factories remain abandoned or restored and repurposed.
Recently, a poet friend of mine, Chasity Gunn, did a reading at the library on the theme of the river. She shared her original work and invited me to share mine. The poem below “The river and I are friends” was written for this occasion. In the poem I reflect on the life of the river, Elgin’s laborers, and the work of the apprentice.
The river and I are friends
I
The river and I are friends
My steps are careful – light and tender
My heart heavy one day, a spring in my step the next.
There, a path in the earth, leads me deeper to the bank where I grab the oak tree limb
Balancing my spring or my burden.
How lucky the Oak, of all the places to be offering itself to the nest and the breeze.
How lucky the roots- gripping and absorbing the energy of the river from below
(The oak and I are friends)
The oak and the river are present, unburdened by time, or requirement.
The ducks are here,
The fish are too
And, of course the beaver’s home is chaos to the eye. A shored-up hut. Tight-tangled branches strewn like pick up sticks.
How tempted I am to peek inside.
But the river and the Oak know why I’m here.
I’ve come to listen to the past.
Here along the water’s edge live the voices and dreams of the shoemaker,
the watch welder,
The calloused hands of laborers who laid the tracks along her path.
The work of progress on the backs of those who’ve led me here to wonder.
II
The window faces the river
Sitting in the hard spindle chair my Grandfather crafted
The floor boards announcing the arrival of my weight.
I hold in my hands the vision I’ve called into being.
It’s come to pass.
The molds, bespoke, articulate, precise
From the start made of wood, scraps of Oak from a fallen tree, I have seen from my window.
Reaching for the metal tin
This is the time for soothing.
The salve of the apprentice rolled onto tender finger tips.
III
Tomorrow begins production
Adhesive, material, punch
Patterns and threads.
And tapping, tapping, tapping.
Treadle stitching, turning the wheel in the right direction
Peddle and check
Peddle and check
The treadle rhythm is a seesaw and I am hypnotized
Cut, slice
Pull, stretch,
Press, cork,
knot, paint,
fire
To feel the tension, where leather and stitch bind to contain flesh, muscle, tendon and bone
Where sole meets the Earth
The ease of each step carried forward into the world.
This is the River
This is the Oak
This is the job of the apprentice.
