|
The Low Country Shvitz
by Rick Lupert
175 Poems ~ 273 pages
Price: $19.95
Publisher: Ain’t Got No Press
ISBN-13: 978-1-7330278-3-0
To Order: Amazon.com
Reviewed by Michael Escoubas
LB Sedlacek, in his delightful analysis of Rick Lupert’s new book avers, “Rick is the ultimate host of travelogue poetry, and it shows in this book since he can now effectively use ‘y’all’ in a poem and discovered the best thing about touring Biltmore House is the wine tasting and cheese straws.”
That’s right, folks, we’re headin’ south with the Lupert family. All bets are off! We have a great tour guide so buckle up and enjoy the ride. For Rick Lupert, everything is a source for poetry. From packing suitcases, (which falls to Rick’s wife Addie, while Rick catches forty additional winks), to Addie fixing a flaw in the fold of his shirt collar … nothing escapes Rick's ultra-observant eye.
The Lupert family consists of Rick, wife Addie, and son Jude. Jude will spend the week at camp. So, the family on vacation is Rick and Addie.
The fact that Rick’s publisher is Ain’t Got No Press, is a clue to what fortunate readers may expect by way of tongue-in-cheek humor throughout. Speaking of humor, your reviewer finds two categories of humor. I call these poetic “cousins.” They are satire and self-deprecation. Too much of either is not a good look for writers. However, Rick is an expert in each. Throughout the volume, I found myself saying, Yep, I know where he’s coming from. With that said, I hasten to point out the poet’s purpose for his unique writing style. Rick Lupert’s work reveals a deep-seated awareness of societal prejudice and historical injustice. His critique of both streams naturally within his poetic oeuvre.
We join the Lupert’s as they engage the lands of “sweet southern tea”: Savannah, GA, Charlston, SC, Ashville, and Charlotte, NC.
On the way to the airport, the “Lyft” driver rates a poem:
Our Lyft driver
seems unsure of himself
his car, the road ahead of him.
I’d give him a hug
but this is not the time.
Since the purpose of this vacation is to write a “saleable” book of poems, the ride to the airport has been a challenge:
I’m Too Tired to Write
Poems This Morning
I got the exact amount of sleep I’d need
if I was the opposite of a cat.
The car bounces up and down
(which is nice in case there are people
with you who prefer one over the other.)
More than occasionally the tires
remind us of the boundaries between lanes.
He could be a doctor or an engineer
where he came from, but again,
I am assuming too much.
After two or three additional tribulations, Rick and Addie land at Savannah. With feet now planted squarely in the Carolina low country, this is an opportune moment to bring up a key word in the title. Shvitz is a Yiddish term which can mean “to sweat” when used as a verb; or “to persevere” when used as a noun. This poem touches on both:
Shvitz with Fritz
I tell Addie we’re going to meet Fritz
tomorrow, our guide on the
40 Acres and a Mule Tour.
Keying in on the humidity
she asks if we’re going to
shvitz with Fritz.
Oh, Addie, if you hadn’t already
solidified your place in my life and work
this would have sealed the deal.
In the next poem, “Shvitzing with Fritz,” on the 40 Acres and a Mule Tour, Lupert reprises the pre-Civil War slave market (now a bakery), a place where “guns once jarred the earth as fighting raged around Fort Pulaski and shows us “old punks” sitting in Ellis Square, whose bodies have aged but not their attitudes.
After the tour “At Gallery Espresso”:
I
Addie orders a Peach Honey Bush.
Sadly, it’s just a beverage.
II
If anyone is concerned about
the sweetness of the sweet tea
let me assure you, you should not be.
III
I ask for a lemon wedge
I need to northern it up a bit.
While not overworking the term “Shvitz” Lupert is acutely aware of the perseverance piece contained therein. This awareness reveals itself in the poet’s appreciation that people and events that happened in the Carolinas defined and shaped us as people and as a nation.
At one location Rick can “see the fingerprints of slaves who made the bricks” on the courtyard walk.
At the Savannah fireworks, 2022, amid the exploding pyrotechnics he muses:
July 4, 2022
The American gun parade
has come to Chicago.
The American gun parade
takes no day off.
The American gun parade
reminds us nowhere is safe.
The American gun parade
took six more today.
The American gun parade
left overturned lawn chairs
in the street.
The American gun parade
is the jazz
of terrorism
homegrown
truly ours
The irony in all of this should not escape us; nor does Rick Lupert intend to let his readers miss the deeper layers of his poetry. For all his artful humor and modesty, this is a poet with something to say. And say it, he does. The Low Country Shvitz is highly recommended!
|
