My Julia

 
Forgive me but I must take you back, yet again, to Julie and Julia. The idea that your interest in another person can create evolutions in your own life was pivotal to the film.

And, I found a parallel in my own life. When I was directing The Ladies' Tea Guild and editing The Gilded Lily, I'd often find myself quite taken with certain people in history. I was all about Queen Victoria for awhile until the Empress Eugenie caught my fancy. Then there was Oscar Wilde and Jennie Churchill. And later would come Alice Paul.

But no one has captured my attention and imagination like the poetess Edna St. Vincent Millay. I'm not even a great lover of poetry, but what I wouldn't give to have met her in real life!

I discovered Vincent - yes, I do refer to her as her friends and family did - when I was researching the "new woman" of the late 19th century.  I had found a book called Savage Beauty by Nancy Milford. It was a biography of Vincent and the book's jacket said "Edna St. Vincent Millay embodied the new woman."
 
Fabulous. It's always lovely to find yourself on the right track so quickly - as opposed to those times when you flounder, fumble, and muggle about for hours on end to no avail.

I began thumbing through this book and came across a passage where Vincent was describing a childhood moment. She was very talented musically but was struggling one afternoon with a particularly difficult piano chord. She had called her mother, Cora, in from the kitchen to help her.

She wrote..."She had been doing washing, and her hands, as she placed them upon the keys were very pink, and steam rose from them. Her plain gold wedding wing shown very clean and bright, and there were little bubbles on it which the soap suds had left, pink, and yellow and pale green. When she had gone and I was sure that she would not hear me, I laid my cheek upon the cool keys and wept. For it had come to me with dreadful violence as she bent above me and placed her fingers upon the keys...that my mother could die; and I wanted to save her from that, for I knew she would not like it; and I knew that I could not." 

I was stunned. And of course, being the cry baby I am, tears came to my eyes. I, too, had had such a moment - a moment as a little girl where I had looked at my mama and for the first time realized that she wouldn't always be with me. It was very emotional, as such moments are. But, as such moments do, it passed. 

I had never mentioned it to anyone. Not only had I completely forgotten about it, I had never heard anyone else speak of such a thing let alone write about it so eloquently. I knew I had to put aside my research on the new woman and focus on this woman.

And Vincent became my Julia. I was fascinated with her life and I loved - dearly loved - her poetry. I began reciting it to myself and would become so caught up in Blackbeard or Witch Wife that I'd miss my turn when driving and not notice til blocks later. The emotion of reciting Spring apparently caused me to accelerate coming onto the beach one night. The officer who stopped me at the end of the bridge looked surprised at my explanation and suggested I put Vincent - and all poetry for that matter - aside before climbing into my vehicle.

Who gets out of a ticket by telling the officer they were reciting the poetry of Edna St. Vincent Millay! I think Vincent was with me that night!

Vincent then brought more shifts into my life. Could I create a program around her? Would people still want to listen to her poetry? Could I pull such a thing off with success? I loved her so much I had to try. 

Remembering Miss Millay remains one of my favorite programs to perform. People do still love her. She was the first woman to win a Pulitzer Prize for poetry you know. She still has the ability to touch people - they laugh, they cry. They remember her. They remember what their parents remember of her.

Where else will Vincent take me? I believe there's a trip to New York in my future. I want to wander Greenich Village where she worked and played so hard. I want to visit her home, Steepletop, near Austerlitz. I want to peruse her papers and photos at the Library of Congress.

I'm also very close to being able to recite her Poem for An Invading Army - without tears. Vincent was the only poetess asked to write a work to be read aloud, worldwide, on the NBC radio network on D-Day, June 6, 1944. I would challenge the most stoic of men to read this without shedding a tear.

So, my words of wisdom for the day are these: Everyone needs a Julia in their life.
 
It's time for a cup of tea and a few of Vincent's sonnets before the morning unfolds much further. Let me leave you with the last five lines of Poem for An Invading Army:

Lo, from all corners of the earth we ask,
All great and noble to come forth - converge
Upon this errand and this task with generous and gigantic plan:
Hold high this torch, who will.
Lift up this sword, who can!