Performing at Golden Link

Pax et bonum

Elizabeth Barrett Browning Clerihew in Gilbert

Gilbert magazine graciously published one of my clerihews in its March/April issue. 

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

sat in her parlor frowning.

Robert had bought her something labeled "Serra da Estrela cheese,"

that clearly wasn't Portuguese.

By way of explanation, Elizabeth Barrett Browning is famous for her collection of 44 love sonnets, Sonnets from the Portuguese. "My little Portuguese" was a pet name given her by her husband, Robert Browning. The sonnets were her love poems to and inspired by him.

Serra da Estrela cheese is a special kind of cheese made in Portugal. Under the name "Queijo Serra da Estrela" it is a Protected Designation of Origin (PDO) in the European Union and in the United Kingdom.

Here's one of the most famous sonnets in the collection

How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43)
Elizabeth Barrett Browning 

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

Pax et bonum

In Scifaikuest February 2026

Two of my poems made it into the February 2026 issue of Scifaikuest - 

honeymoon coin toss
to decide which will be which
shapeshifter resort


his last transmission
stopping to smell the roses
carnivorous plants 

Pax et bonum

Do You Love Me?

I'm not a big fan of musicals, but one that I like is Fiddler on the Roof. I saw it on Broadway, and I've seen the movie several times. Most recently, I read the text with the songs included. 

As an actor, one of the roles I would have loved to have played is Tevye. Alas, I'm now too old for the part, and I doubt I had the singing and dancing chops needed for the part anyway. If I ever did audition for the musical I would likely have ended up as the Rabbi, Lazar Wolf, or Nahum the beggar.

One of my favorite songs in Fiddler is "Do You Love Me". Tevye Is singing the song with his wife, Golde. He asks her if she loves him, and her response includes the fact that they've been married for 25 years, she's washed his clothes, given him children, milked the cow, fought with him, starved with him, shared her bed with him, etc.

TEVYE: Then you love me?

GOLDE: I suppose I do.

They do love each other. But their love is not just a feeling. It's a choice. That's what love really is. It's a choice made each day. A commitment that is honored. 

Oddly enough, after I finished reading that play, I read another that deals with a marriage, A Doll's House by Henrik Ibsen. 

In that play, there is a troubled marriage between Nora and Helmer. Neither of them is perfect. He tends to be controlling, and also spoils her, treating her like a child. But she is also deceptive, secretive, and child-like. They don't really know or understand each other. But they have been married for eight years and have three children. Without giving away all the details, Nora decides she is leaving him and the children.

She declares that she does not love him, even though he has been kind to her. Despite his pleas and his willingness to try to improve and work at the marriage, she is adamant. 

Helmer says she is betraying her most sacred duty.

NORA: What do you consider that to be?

HELMER: Your duty to your husband and your children - I surely don't have to tell you that!

NORA: I've another duty just as sacred.

HELMER: Nonsense! What duty to you mean?

NORA: My duty towards myself.

Forget others. Forget commitment. Me. It's all about me.

This attitude infects our culture. This selfishness helps to lead people to refuse to commit, to serial short-term sexual relationships, to divorces, to desertions. It is why so many find themselves unable to choose love. Or to find love. Or to understand what love really is.

It's the kind self-love displayed in Elizabeth Gilbert's memoir Eat, Pray, Love - a book I've always referred to as Eat, Prey, Fornicate. Oh, by the way, in real life her selfish sexual adventures left a wake of damaged relationships and individuals.  

As for me, I would rather have the kind of mature love shown by Tevye and Golde.

Pax et bonum

The Ballad of Yukon Jack

Back in the late 1970's, Dave, with whom I had been friends since grade school, moved to the city where I was living to earn a master's degree. Since we were both musicians (of sorts) we started jamming. We talked about playing out as a duo, and even once did so at a local coffee house.

As part of our practicing, he helped me finish a song I had already mostly written, "Maggie Was a Boozer".  Then we collaborated on a silly song based on my brother John. John had moved to Alaska in the 1970's to work on the oil pipeline, then remained there.

I don't recall which of us started calling him "Yukon Jack," but the name tickled our fancies and inspired "The Ballad of Yukon Jack".

 The Ballad of Yukon Jack

This is the ballad of Yukon Jack

living in the Arctic in a one-room shack.

Moved to the woods to start a new life

trying to escape a nagging wife.

Now he's alone and feeling blue

sitting by the fire warming his shoes.

To keep himself from getting mean,

he dreams of chowing on pork and beans.

This is the ballad of Yukon Jack,

starving in the cold in that one-room shack.

Poor old Jack he's in dire straits,

was forced to eat his fishing bait.

To keep himself warm, burned his last log.

and at dinner time eyed his old sled dog.

To keep himself from getting mean,

he dreams of chowing on pork and beans.

To finish the ballad of Yukon Jack,

the bank repossessed his one-room shack.

A grizzly bear, big brown and mean,

ate his entire supply of pork and beans.

The moral of the story is easily seen:

Never rely just on pork and beans.

If you move to the Yukon, take a stash,

of good old-fashioned American hash.

It might taste awful,

but it's better than eating dog.

Okay, it's not a classic. But it was fun.

We did perform "Maggie," but we never got to inflict "Yukon Jack" on the public.

Sadly, my brother was murdered in 1983 shortly after we wrote the song. And then Dave finished grad school, moved to Texas, and became a teacher, then a principal. He kept trying to get me to move there to teach, but I never did.  He died of a heart attack in 2016. 

I miss both of them.

Pax et bonum