From beyond, the Bard is grinning
I’ve run and re-run Tom Wobker’s little pieces of poetic candy in Huckleberries for 18 years.
You know Tom as The Bard of Sherman Avenue.
When we first began collaborating, Tom worried that his poetry might create blowback for his stock brokerage, Pennaluna & Co. His short rhymes on local themes had bite to them.
He wanted a pseudonym.
It took us about 10 seconds to come up with one. He was a poet, or bard, and his firm was located on Sherman Avenue.
During the ensuing years, I fielded guesses from dozens of readers who were certain they knew the true identity of The Bard. One thought former chamber manager Sandy Emerson was the poet. Another suspected Iron Horse owner Tom Robb. Still another named Jerry Jaeger of The Coeur d’Alene Resort.
No one came close. You don’t find many poets among stockbrokers.
Tom’s reveal occurred on Feb. 20, 2016, at the Fort Ground Grill when he finally took a well-deserved public bow. Many readers of my old blog, Huckleberries Online, turned out to meet the man who had delighted us with his pithy verses for so long.
Tom wasn’t well at the time. He would soon lose his long fight with cancer.
Why am I telling you all this?
• I’ve tried to imagine what Tom would say about COVID-19, Donald Trump, and the Not So Great Mask Divide. I asked the poets on my Facebook page to submit Bard-worthy lyrics. They came up with this: The Curve they asked us to flatten,/We resorted to wiping with napkins,/Distance, masks and ammo rations,/The introverts just sit there and wonder what happened – Kenny McAnally of Coeur d’Alene.
• COVID-19/is nasty and mean,/it’s filled our lives with fear/But no virus is that tough/When Idahoans get rough,/armed with sanitizer, masks and cold beer! – Peggy Jean Sorenson of Hayden Lake.
• If The Bard was here,/He’d shed a tear;/The mask divide,/He'd not abide – Shelly Robins Zollman of Coeur d’Alene.
• The CDC said we must mask it/Or to hell we’d go in a basket./So coverings we sought/To ensure that we’d not/Send a million more souls to a casket – John Austin of Pinehurst.
My friend The Bard would be proud.
California roots
You know that the first civilian settler in Coeur d’Alene came from California, right? This, according to the late Louise Shadduck’s book, “At the Edge of the Ice.” In 1878, Oscar Canfield didn’t find any of those “Don’t Californicate Idaho” signs when he settled at the base of the mountain that would bear his name. Soon, he landed a contract to provide beef for Fort Sherman. According to Louise, William Tecumseh Sherman – yeah, the Sherman Marches to the Sea Sherman — was dining with the Canfields when he learned the nearby mount had no name. The general recommended that it be named after Canfield. And the rest is history.
Huckleberries
• Poet’s Corner: All of that daylight/we saved through the year,/now that we need it/why isn’t it here? – The Bard of Sherman Avenue (“Time Change”).
• Bumpersnicker (on a goldish Honda driven by “TrumpGirl” at U.S. 95 & Prairie Thursday morning): “I carry a gun because a cop is too heavy."
• David Townsend, who retires today after 20 years with the Coeur d’Alene Library, prefers public service to private toil. He’d rather work for the entire community than a single person or company. A former editor, David quit newspapering around Y2K: “Community journalism is a good way for a family man to slowly starve to death."
• Katrina Wright Swaim of Coeur d’Alene has learned that Brits use the term “Sausage Rolls” for what we call “Pigs in a Blanket.” Their version consists of little sausages wrapped in – BACON! Or something approaching “Pig Doubles,” according to Katrina. And you thought the British only ate bland food.
• Fan Mail (re: the Oct. 23 item defining “Coeur d’Alene newcomer”): “Somewhere, I once read a definition of a small town as a place where ‘you’re a stranger for three days and a newcomer for 50 years.’” — reader Bruce Bodden of Spokane.
Parting Shot
You had to go old school to send birthday wishes to Larry Kenck of Post Falls on Wednesday. The former Idaho Democrat leader has dropped most social media since his Facebook page was hacked three years ago. He still can get texts. And then there’s the “landline,” which, once upon a time, was called “home phone.” Larry, 72, tells wife, Christina, that he still feels like a teenager. But his shaky grasp of modern technology says otherwise. Happy belated birthday, Larry.
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You can contact D.F. “Dave” Oliveria at dfo@cdapress.com.
