when reading his poems he performed them

book cover

In 1976, I was fortunate to be asked to design a paperbound edition of Joseph Langland’s The Sacrifice Poems for the North American Review, at the University of Northern Iowa. I was a young designer / teacher, and I am no longer happy with how I handled the page layout. But I remain very pleased with the cover, which is shown above.

Soon after I designed that book, I moved to a teaching position at another university, and moved elsewhere after that. But I rejoined the UNI faculty in 1990, where I taught graphic design and illustration, including book design. More than a decade later, Joseph Langland retired from teaching and he too moved back to Iowa. In 2004, near the end of his life, Langland talked to a class of my students at the UNI about the role of rhythmic sound and the music of the voice in the recitation of verse.

I think it would be fair to say that my students were astonished by Joe Langland’s presentation that day. One could say they were taken aback, because whenever Langland read his poems, it was more that he “performed” them—and in fact he often ”sang” the lines. The session was filmed, and having recently been edited, it can be accessed free online, and freely shared with others..

He also talked about his past, not knowing that his life would end a few years later. He recalled how he was drawn to literature at a very young age, and thereafter used poetry as a way to try to understand his life, such as growing up on a family farm, his rich Norwegian heritage, the death of his younger brother, and his lingering memories of having been an officer in the US Army infantry in Europe during World War II.

His talk took place on Veterans Day, on November 11, 2004. He died in 2007.

Joseph Langland / life, literature, ethnic origins

Newly edited Joseph Langland video

recalling the death of Iowa poet Michael Andorf

Michael Andorf (1947-2022) was an Iowa-born poet, who, at earlier times in his life, served in the US Navy, worked on farms for numerous years, and operated a snow plow, as a road maintenance worker. He and I grew up at around the same time, only a few miles apart. And while I was long familiar with his name and his poetry, the two of us didn't actually meet until about ten years ago. 

When we did connect in person, it was largely because of our memories of a wonderful teacher of Literature and Theatre (at Independence High School), named Florence Helt. She was something, we agreed, and two of us were forever convinced that she had been a key factor in our shared thirst for writing. 

In 2013, while I was teaching graphic design at the University of Northern Iowa, Michael agreed to come to my class as a visiting speaker. He read a number of his poems, which the students then responded to by designing digital images that "belonged with" each of those poems. When printed, multiples of the book were produced, assembled and bound in the form of a book. We gave signed copies to Michael, and a single copy was given to each student designer, as well as to regional archives. 

In recent years, I've remained in touch with Michael, primarily through emails. I have always enjoyed his humor, and a chance to read his latest poems. I was saddened to learn that he died less than a week ago, on Saturday, on March 5, 2022. Here is an online connection to a pdf version of the book of poems that he, my students, and I produced just nine years ago. Please do share with others.

my family's brief residence in Fort Atkinson IA

Above online version of article in The Iowa Source

 •••

In an essay / memoir in the current issue (June 2021) of The Iowa Source magazine (Fairfield IA), I recall the story of the death of my paternal grandfather, Diedrich Joseph Behrens, an Iowa farmer, in 1918, in a harvesting machinery accident. My father, who was 17 that year, was the oldest of seven children. It was the third in a series of crop failures, and my grandmother was penniless. She could no longer lease the farm, and she and her children survived for the next year and a half by living in the ruins of an old US Army outpost, known as Fort Atkinson in northeast Iowa.

Inez McAlister Faber / Out Here on Soap Creek

Above Roy R. Behrens, Snake Eyes (© 2021). Digital montage.

•••

Inez McAlister Faber, Out Here on Soap Creek. Ames: Iowa State University Press, 1982, pp. 23-24—

Probably many people wiser than I dislike some of the things I like, such as hoeing, canning, cleaning house, cutting corn fodder, living in the country, being in my thirties, dahlias, roses, meals on time, empty houses with flowers still growing in the yards, old furniture, small boys, books, newspaper editorials, astronomy, chickens, dogs, cows, horses, meat or gravy cooked in a cast-iron skillet, waffles, carrots and spinach.

It is quite likely that others, and I have no quarrel with them, like many of the things I hate, including petunias, cats, children who have been taught that they are cute, grown-ups who try to act kiddish, male or female sissies, superiority complexes, machine hemstitching, tablecloths hemmed on the machine, cows with horns, weedy gardens, dwelling houses painted green, rain on washday, so-called living rooms that are only used for company, and overstuffed davenports. Large women in striped or checked dresses, bad table manners, being flatly contradicted, people who handle books roughly or who lay an open book face down upon a table, people who read over my shoulder, inquisitiveness, concrete walks in front of farm homes, fried parsnips, mashed potatoes, interruptions while ironing, washing milk pails, cleaning muddy overshoes, cooking for visitors who do not come, going to bed, getting up, washing yesterday’s dishes, and talking over the telephone.

Flu pandemic and quackery in Iowa in 1918

Roy R. Behrens (©1980), Cream City Review

Richard Critchfield, Those Days: An American Album. New York: Dell, 1986, p. 189—

[Jessie in Postville, Iowa, writing to Anne in Minneapolis, October 28, 1918, in reference to the Spanish flu pandemic] . . . Hope you and the children got there safely. Helen got ill just after you left. It seems to be a recurrence. She had it awfully hard last year. I’m keeping her out of school. So far the rest of us have been spared. We keep hearing wild rumors. One is that some doctors and nurses at Camp Dodge outside Des Moines were caught injecting flu germs into patients and were court-martialed and shot. Another is that fifty black soldiers who died of flu were buried in a mass grave behind the hospital. Who can be believed? Dad says none of it's true but that so many of the young boys who got drafted and are down at Camp Dodge are sick and going overseas. One of the fellows we knew died of flu on his way to France and had to be buried at sea. Liquor is outlawed here, but the police will issue medicinal whiskey permits if Doc Schmidt signs them. No more than a quart and the man is watched. Doc Schmidt got hold of what he calls “pneumonia serum.” He told Papa, “I don't know if it's any good, but c'mon over and I'll give you a shot.” So he went. I tried a new medicine, “Vick's Vaporub,” with Helen. Folks have been trying just about anything—onions, kerosene, Hicks tablets, mustard poultices, lemon juice, turpentine, linament. Papa had me make up some little cheesecloth breath strainers. But there's plenty of quackery…

CD Portfolio Design | Stephanie Berry

CD Portfolio Package © Stephanie Berry (2014)

Above Design for a CD Portfolio package (inside and out) by Stephanie Berry, graphic design student, Department of Art, University of Northern Iowa (2014).

•••

Nancy Perkins, quoted in Remar Sutton and Mary Abbott Waite, eds., The Common Ground Book: A Circle of Friends. Latham NY: British American Publishing, 1992, p. 367—

Back around 1900, my father's family owned a large, prosperous farm outside Postville, Iowa. They lived modestly on the form but had plenty. Each summer they used to order about $500 worth of fireworks to put on a spectacular display for the county. And my dad's grandfather never went around without at least a couple of thousand dollars in his overalls.

•••

Buck Johnson, ibid., p. 371—

Mama had a saying she used when I wanted something. She'd say, "Well, honey, you can't get that. Like it says in the Bible, 'Blessed are they that want not, for they shall not be disappointed.'" Of course, it wasn't from the Bible at all; she made it up.

Roy Behrens on Iowa Poet James Hearst

Hearst Talk Poster © Roy R. Behrens 2014

The James Hearst Twenty-Fifth Anniversary Lecture Series will conclude at 7 pm, Thursday, October 23, 2014, when author, teacher and graphic designer Roy Behrens addresses the audience in Mae Latta Hall at the Hearst Center, 304 West Seerley Boulevard, Cedar Falls, Iowa. Behrens’s illustrated talk, titled “Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads in Them: Learning from Iowa Poet Jim Hearst,” will be followed by a reception. The event is free and open to the public.

Roy R. Behrens is a Professor of Art and Distinguished Scholar at the University of Northern Iowa. He holds an undergraduate degree in art from the University of Northern Iowa and a graduate degree from the Rhode Island School of Design. He has taught at art schools and universities for more than 40 years. Since 1990 he has been at the University of Northern Iowa, where he teaches graphic design and design history.

In addition, Behrens has written seven books and hundreds of essays and articles on design-related subjects, most notably books and articles on art and camouflage, for which he is internationally known. He has appeared in interviews on National Public Radio, NOVA on PBS, Iowa Public Television, BBC Radio, Australian Public Radio, and has appeared in a number of documentary films. As a UNI student in the late 1960s, as well as a faculty member in the early 1970s, Behrens knew Hearst as a writer and friend.

Since April 2014, the James Hearst Twenty-Fifth Anniversary Lecture Series has featured a variety of lectures and multimedia presentations focusing on James Hearst and his body of work. They have been presented by a distinguished group of writer-educators that also includes Jonathan Stull, Scott Cawelti, Loree Rackstraw, Barbara Lounsberry, George Day, Michael Borich, and Jeremy Schraffenberger.

Farmer-poet James Hearst bequeathed his home to the city of Cedar Falls in 1983 and asked that it be used as an arts center for the community. The Hearst Center’s 25th anniversary celebration is sponsored by the Rotary Club of Cedar Falls, the Cedar Falls Art & Culture Board and 93.5 The Mix.

Packin' Cats for the Army | Geraldine Schwarz

US aviator John B. Moisant and his cat (1910)

PICTURED ABOVE are American pioneer aviator John B. Moisant (1868-1910) and his tabby cat companion (who often flew with him), variously known as Mademoiselle Fifi, Paree or Spark Plug. Moisant died in a fatal crash in 1910, but the cat lived on and, in the bottom photo, is dressed in appropriate mourning attire and poised in a basket at his funeral.

This reminds me of a new book by Iowa author Geraldine Schwarz, titled Packin' Cats for the Arrr-mee: Fun on the Farm in the 'Forties, a delightfully rich and vivid memoir about growing up with her brother (John Robert Fromm) on a farm near Mason City, Iowa, during World War II. Here's how it opens—

We were very-very good to our cats—always thinking what we could do to make them more comfortable, to make them happy, to keep them entertained. On cold winter mornings, we liked to have "cat warmings" because we knew the cats would be warmer if they curled up together. We got them all in the woodhouse and made a good spot in the corncobs where they could all sleep. But they didn't stay together very well. The tomcats fought with each other, and most of the others had better things to do. So we tried stuffing them in a cardboard box and folding the lid closed. 

Our work always had to be accompanied with a slogan or a song, so pretty soon we were singing, "We're PACK-in' cats for the ARRR-mee." The cats didn't have the same commitment to the war effort as we did—they were not as patriotic. After they had been crammed in the box and escaped a couple times, they really didn't want to stay there no matter how cozy it was. It was kind of hard to catch them again. If they got over the wall between the wood-and-cob part to the coal bin, we gave up on them and settled for any cats we could push in and closed the lid. Then one skinny head would come poking through the little opening and we'd have to start "PACK-in' cats for the ARRR-mee" all over again!

It's a wonderful book, replete with snapshots ("you-are-there") and scans of actual remnants from her childhood (including, for example, an account ledger of all the cats on the property), Schwarz's narrative is so fluid and so disarmingly conversational that, once you begin reading, it's hard to take a break—for fear of possibly missing out.

Here is the author's synopsis, as quoted from the dust jacket—

Packin' cats was never easy. They didn't like to be pushed into boxes even if it was for their own good. But if it had been easy, it wouldn't have been fun. It would have been "play," and that was what city kids did. We always thought of everything we did around the farm as "work." We liked to be useful, to be helpful…especially to cats and all our other livestock.

We had a great life on the farm—and that's not from the perspective of a grown-up looking back on a distant childhood. We knew it was great even while we were kids. And we were never bored—we found hundreds of ways to have fun.

Our folks loved the farm, so we did, too. The farm belonged to us and we belonged to it. We depended on each other and took care of each other. It was sometimes tough, but it was such a good life.

Jacquie Colvin, jacket and book design

Here are the bibliographic details: Packin' Cats for the Arrr-meee: Fun on the Farm in the 'Forties, by Deanie and Johnnie, also known as Geraldine Fromm Schwarz and John Robert Fromm. Book design by Jacquie Colvin. Decorah IA: South Bear Press, 2011. 167 pp. 52 black and white photos. 29 color photos. Clothbound. First edition $25.00. ISBN 978-0-9761381-9-8. Library of Congress Control Number 2011909978. Available from South Bear Press, 2248 South Bear Road, Decorah IA 52101. Website www.southbearpress.org.