Aurora

By Wayne Zade

In Aurora, his first published collection, author and poet Wayne Zade reflects on relationships, memories, and life experiences that can shape an individual. He explores the unique time of middle and later adulthood, when parents age and pass away, people reflect on lost loves, and individuals gain new perspectives on events of the past.

Lyrical and introspective, this poetry collection presents verses examining the theme of the power of family, sports, music, and media in American culture.

ON QUIET, SUNNY STREETS

That was the summer I spent
thinking of nothing but music
everyday. And listened many
blue hours, skies of piano just
outside the window. And far
away, but in America, people
were shot, in offices, on the street,
in schools, day care centers. You
could watch them all many times
on TV, survivors’ faces
retelling the rage, and wonder
how, in cool rooms on quiet,
sunny streets, tremolos
aching everywhere in the house,
anyone thinks of anything but courage.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Sep 24, 2019
• ISBN: 9781684708383

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ZADE

Copyright © 2019 Wayne Zade.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

This book is a work of non-fiction. Unless otherwise noted, the author and the publisher make no explicit guarantees as to the accuracy of the information contained in this book and in some cases, names of people and places have been altered to protect their privacy.

ISBN: 978-1-6847-0837-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6847-0838-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019911927

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Lulu Publishing Services rev. date:   09/12/2019

In

memory of my mother and father

for Cathy

Josh, Alison, and Aurora; Sarah and Bobby

for James Dougherty, teacher and friend; and Carolyn Perry, friend and teacher

Special thanks to Sarah, my daughter, for technical expertise and help in preparing the manuscript.

I

JOHN WAYNE MEETS DONNA REED

This year I’m working with a woman named Donna Reed.

No joke—that really is her name. Almost everyone laughs

when they meet her and think of the heartwarming and hilarious

family comedy of the early 1960s or late 1950s,

I can’t recall exactly, but I’m sure Donna Reed could,

having to go through life and people’s reactions

to her name and not her face or smile or talents or success.

I don’t exactly work with Donna Reed, just near her.

I know she works hard, though, and her office doesn’t have a window.

Maybe she works harder without an office window.

Maybe I need an office without a window.

No, wait—I work hard too. I work so hard that mostly

it doesn’t bother me that people make light of my name too.

Not that I share a famous name as Donna Reed does. The actress

set a standard, became a symbol, for better or worse, of women of her time,

post-World War II, though in the 1940s, when I was born, John Wayne

did something similar, for better or worse, for men, and daring to be different,

my parents named me Wayne John, thinking people would just catch on.

Well, people usually didn’t. But my first name, Wayne, and my last name, Zade,

became the casualty of an asinine assonance, at some unlucky time,

and I am often called Wade Zade, as if I in fact rhyme.

Why, I have even been called Zane Grey more than one time.

So I smile and say hello when I pass Donna Reed in the hall.

I feel her pain. We will go on just fine, I imagine.

She will continue to educate young minds to educate young minds.

I will look out my window and ride off into the sunset.

AVE MARIA

I wish I could laugh as hard as my mother laughed

at I Love Lucy. I don’t know if, as a homemaker

of the American 1950s, she identified with Lucy or