American Transcendentalism: An Online Travel Guide

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Pages from Jennifer’s Journal


“Nature Invading Industry”

A mouse, or more correctly a mass of mice, has invaded the registers at Wal-Mart. Just imagine the beautiful mouse abode offered by fifteen register stations riddled with bits and remnants of food, plastic bags, tags from clothing, and great hunks of dust bunnies.

However, at times the mice scare customers or die from electrocution after eating through the wires. Once, a resident bird flew down to peck at some hunk of food only to meet a mouse ready for a squabble. At times, the mice even traverse great distances to peruse the bread aisle. Such instances create such wonderful aesthetic turmoil in the Wal-Mart image. Both management and most of the customers do not enjoy the mice, but I feel great kindred with the furry little devils for they are accomplishing what I have always wished to achieve in all my time sentenced as a corporate drudge – my little mousy comrades are sticking it to the man!

These mice must have a little of the Transcendentalist spirit imbued inside them because they live deliberately everyday. Their homes are cramped, but their dwellings provide opportunities for communion with other living things. Noise, a constant issue, does not hold back the mice from doing what they wish. I can see some of Thoreau’s gumption in the mice, especially in how they transplanted themselves into an unknown environment. I can also see a bit of Whitman’s transcendence, especially when they sneak out of their homes to watch the bustling people.

I appreciate the mice for their courage, though I am probably just personifying them = )

 


 

 

“My Little Star”

 

My Little Star

One . . . two . . . three . . . go sleep

My baby does not want to nap;

He fears missing even a moment,

Wanting to experience everything.

 

But I want him to take a nap;

I have a paper to finish.

Selfishly, I choose the paper over playtime–

Forgiving me, he kisses my forehead.

 

One . . . two . . . three . . . go sleep

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

How I wonder who you are.

Rooted in my heart and I

Can’t even give you the sky.

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

How I wonder who you are.

 

One . . . two . . . three . . . go sleep

His baby hands fisted in my hair–

Counting the strands in clumps,

Five is as high as he ever goes.

 

Stalling for time, he gives more kisses,

Can't we just be you and I?

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

How I wonder who we are.

 

One . . . two . . . three . . . go sleep

My baby counts slower now.

Sleep is stealing the verve from his limbs;

His breathing, shallow and regular.

 

Another round of kisses–

Twice on the forehead, and

Once on the lips – before he

Finally gives over to sleep.

 

One . . . two . . . three . . . go sleep

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

How I wonder where we are.

Resting in my arms, and I

Can’t help but think to cry.

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

How I wonder where we are.

 

One . . . two . . . three . . . go sleep

My baby is finally down for his nap.

The paper topic floats in my head,

But I contemplate simply lying here.

More hugs, more love than I could

Ever hope to return – life being so short

And love being so hard to understand.

 

One . . . two . . . three . . . go sleep

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

How I wonder who I am.

Up above the world so high,

Like a garnet in the sky.

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

How I wonder who I am.

 

One . . . two . . . three . . . go sleep

Sometimes I dream that I

Never had my darling boy.

Those dreams are always painful.

 

Especially when he is whispering

“I wuv you, mommy,” with his lips

Close to my neck and his hands

Lost in my hair, the pain is most striking.

 

One . . . two . . . three . . . go sleep

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

How I wonder who we are.

Connected in our blood, and why

With his eyes closed in sleep,

I see past the travails of motherhood.

And my love for him takes the place

Of the burden that is raising him alone.

 

One . . . two . . . three . . . go sleep

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

How I love you for what we are.

Holding you in my arms, my eyes,

I will give you one more than the sky.

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

How I love you for what we are.

 


 

 

Jennifer Cameron is an English Education major at Shepherd University.


“American Transcendentalism: An Online Travel Guide” was produced by students in ENGL 446, American Transcendentalism, and ENGL 447, American Literature and the Prominence of Place: A Travel Practicum. These courses were team-taught in the Department of English at Shepherd College (now Shepherd University), Shepherdstown, West Virginia, in Spring 2002 by Dr. Patricia Dwyer and Dr. Linda Tate. For more information on the course and the web project, visit “About This Site.” © 2003 Linda Tate.