BASEMENT
by Louis Jenkins

There's something about our basement that causes forgetting. I go down for something, say a roll of
paper towels, which we keep in a big box down there,
and as soon as I get to the bottom of the stairs I have forgotten what I came down there for. It happens to
my wife as well. So recently we have taken to working
in tandem like spelunkers. One of us stands at the
top of the stairs while the other descends. When the descendant has reached the bottom stair, the person
at the top calls out, "Light bulbs, 60 watt." This
usually works unless the one in the basement lingers
too long. I blame this memory loss on all the stuff in
the basement. Too much baggage: 10 shades of blue
paint, because we could not get the right color, extra dishes, bicycles, the washer and dryer, a cider press, a piano, jars of screws, nails and bolts.... It boggles the mind. My wife blames it on radon.


Louis Jenkins, “Basement” from Tin Flag: New and Selected Poems. © 2013  Will o’ the Wisp Books. Printed by permission of Ann Jenkins. (buy now)

It's the birthday of philosopher Thomas Hobbes (books by this author), born in Westport, England (1588). He was born premature because his mother was so frightened about the approaching Spanish Armada. Hobbes said, "She brought forth twins, myself and fear." Hobbes was a timid boy, but a good student, and he went on to Oxford. He became a tutor for a rich family and through them he met all sorts of great thinkers — Galileo, Francis Bacon, Descartes, and Ben Jonson. He became increasingly interested in philosophy and he started publishing. His masterpiece was Leviathan (1651). Hobbes wrote it in the midst of the English Civil War, arguing for an authoritarian central government and introducing the social contract theory — the idea that those of us who are governed agree to participate in a system of laws and punishments, to let a governor give us rights in return for abiding by the governing rules. Without this governor who could keep peace he described a state of constant war in which there were "no arts; no letters; no society; and which is worst of all, continual fear, and danger of violent death; and the life of man, solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short."

His book was controversial, in large part because its author was skeptical of Christianity. In 1666 the House of Commons discussed reviving the writ De Heretico Comburendo which allowed heretics to be burned at the stake. A bill was passed through the House of Commons to investigate "such books as tend to atheism, blasphemy, and profaneness, or against the essence and attributes of God, and in particular ... the book of Mr. Hobbes called the Leviathan." The bill failed to make it through the House of Lords. So Hobbes stayed alive but he was forbidden to write any more philosophical or political works, and he was so shaken up that he burned a lot of his papers and started attending church. He wrote an autobiography in Latin verse, translated the Odyssey and the Iliad, and he died at the age of 91.

It's the birthday of the poet Algernon Charles Swinburne (books by this author), born in London (1837). He was just over five feet tall. His cousin wrote about him during their school days:

"He was strangely tiny. His limbs were small and delicate; and his sloping shoulders looked far too weak to carry his great head, the size of which was exaggerated by the tousled mass of red hair standing almost at right angles to it. Hero-worshippers talk of his hair as having been a 'golden aureole.' At that time there was nothing golden about it. Red, violent, aggressive red it was, unmistakable, unpoetical carrots."

Swinburne liked Eton, where he was known as "mad Swinburne," and he hated Oxford. But it was there that he befriended the Pre-Raphaelites, especially Dante Gabriel Rossetti, who called him "my little Northumbrian friend." As roommates they kept a pet wombat and got drunk together frequently. Swinburne was famous for his outrageous personality — extremely melodramatic, he liked to slide naked down banisters and he would literally skip around a room, shrieking his poetry at the top of his lungs. Oscar Wilde called him "a braggart in matters of vice." But he was a popular and respected poet in his own right. His books include Atalanta in Calydon (1865), Poems and Ballads I (1866), and Tristram of Lyonesse (1882).

Be well, do good work, and keep in touch.^®

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