La Verne's poet, Claremont's reviewer
Today's column is about La Verne's first poet laureate, Catherine Henley-Erickson. Her name may be familiar to Claremont readers: She reviews movies for the Claremont Courier.
The Claremont resident, a retired University of La Verne professor, has freelanced reviews for the paper since 1984.
I couldn't resist asking if she'd ever combined her two passions and reviewed a movie in verse.
"One time I reviewed one of Kenneth Branagh's Shakespeare movies, I forget which one, and I did do it in blank verse, in sentence form," Henley-Erickson told me. "Nobody picked up on it."
By my troth! And here I thought I was asking a joke question.
"She always tells me if a movie is worth seeing," her husband, Joe, chimed in. "If it is, we go together and she sits through it again."
Iamb I said
To no one there
And no one heard at all
Not even the chair
Iamb I cried
Iamb said I
And Iamb lost, and can't even say why
Nyuk Nyuk Nyuk - I'm really sorry about this one.
Disclaimer: "Hal Linker in no way endorses corny songs about frogs turning into kings, although he finds the earlier Neil Diamond pre-1971 catalog pretty great. Especially 'You Got To Me' and that tribute to Paul Masson's Crackling Rose wine. And how about the classic (not), 'You're So Sweet (Horseflies Keep Hangin' 'Round Your Face)'? A travesty that should have any marginal fan of country music ready to strangle that 'Jewish Boy' from Brooklyn."
And since there's an American Midol Neil Diamond connection, I'm glad they finally got rid of the young John Travolta with dreadlocks. Or was it the young Jon Stewart with dreadlocks? White guys with dreads always bug me anyway. It just seems so wrong, you know.
(Do you hear me, Adam Duritz? You're not as deep and important as you think you are. It's been all downhill since the debut in 1993. You better start counting your crow’s feet.)
It was summed up perfectly with the phrase "I Shot the Tambourine Man," by Jason Castro himself. The angry, and still stoned, ghost of Bob Marley was hovering over Hollywood making sure the kid finally got his long overdue axe. And Dylan’s Malibu security dogs are still champing at the bit dying to tear the kid apart after the Tambourine Man defecation and desecration!!! Apparently a lot of Tiger Beat readers are contributing to the voting in this competition.
The show’s a train wreck anyway. But Hadla and I are too cool to pretend to be too cool to watch. We love lotsa cheese with our wine. Carly Smithson’s welcome in our home any time. And I think everyone wants some of what Paula’s having.
It’s time to offer our spondee to the awaiting Muse. Ters, St. Foutin made manifest - hasta triembolom – ara voluptatis – nine offerings bestowed – to the maiden Elephantis – elle baise bien – magnifique!
[Plenty of young white college students in Claremont with dreadlocks and it seems so wrong to me too. Don't forget the early Neil Diamond stuff on Bang Records: "Cherry Cherry," "I'm a Believer," etc. -- DA]