Colleen Taylor

Duff Cooper and Susan Mary Patten in Venice, 1951

"I have already made mention of the happiness I have derived throughout my life from literature, and I should here, perhaps, acknowledge the consolation I have never failed to find in the fermented juice of the grape.

Writing in my sixty-fourth year, I can truthfully say that since I reached the age of discretion I have consistently drunk more than most people would say was good for me. Nor do I regret it. Wine has been to me a firm friend and a wise counsellor.

Often, as on the occasion just related, wine has shown me matters in their true perspective, and has, as though by the touch of a magic wand, reduced great disasters to small inconveniences. Wine has lit up for me the pages of literature, and revealed in life romance lurking in the commonplace. Wine has made me bold but not foolish; has induced me to say silly things but not to do them. Under its influence words have often come too easily which had better not have been spoken, and letters have been written which had better not have been sent.

But if such small indiscretions standing in the debit column of wine’s account were added up, they would amount to nothing in comparison with the vast accumulation on the credit side."

-from Duff Cooper's 1954 autobiography Old Men Forget

Whether you're a drinker or not, it's refreshing to read an old fashioned, unapologetic defense of indulgence of any kind in this age of juice cleanses and detox diets.

This marks my second annual posting of poetry around Valentine's Day.

You might notice that the flowery, "read at your wedding" types of poems are never my favorites. This was actually a problem recently, when I was looking for material to be read my own nuptials-- all the literary things I truly like are melancholy!  (We ended up not having any readings at all.)

But, I can only hope that the stripped-down expressions I favor resonate with those who are weary of all the lovey-dovey stuff that abounds at this time of year.

Tonight I'm sharing a longtime favorite from Mark Strand, first published in the October 20, 1997 issue of the New Yorker. Maybe it'll encourage one of you dear readers to make a much-needed move (romantically, socially, career-wise, whatever) well before "the moment it serves no purpose at all."

Untitled
by Mark Strand

As for the poem the Adorable One slipped into your pocket,
Which began, "I think continually about us, the superhuman, how
We fly around saying, 'Hi. I'm So-and-So, and who are you?'"
It has been years since you bothered to read it. But now
In this lavender light under the shade of the pines the time
Seems right. The dust of a passion, the dark crumble of images
Down the page are all that remain. And she was beautiful,
And the poem, you thought at the time, was equally so.
The lavender turns to ash. The clouds disappear. Where
Is she now? And where is that boy who stood for hours
Outside her house, learning too late that something is always
About to happen just at the moment it serves no purpose at all?

Last night after dinner we caught up on a couple of episodes of the Colbert Report.  I have to say, I scoffed when Peter Cove, a somewhat too nattily dressed man (bow tie, pocket square) with a huge handlebar moustache, was introduced as an "expert" on employment. I thought, "How could someone who looks so ridiculous have any practical advice on anything?"

As soon as he started talking, though, I realized I was wrong to have written him off so quickly. The guy had some great insights! Just another lesson to not judge a book by its cover.

His first piece of advice to people seeking work:
"I'd recommend they get off their computers, and go out and talk to people they know. Use their networks."

His advice to recent college graduates deciding between grad school and the workforce:
"I think it's a good idea to get out there and start working, even as an intern."

On how to work your acquaintances for job leads:
"Absolutely, you should nag friends! And ask their friends to nag other friends."

His top two interview tips:
"Ask the person about themselves. Second, give them eye contact."

"My mother had a theory about Englishmen: They are permanently all two gin and tonics under par. They need two gin and tonics to become human. I’ve got a nasty feeling that’s absolutely true."

-- Hugh Grant in the January 2010 issue of Elle Magazine