Think About It. Christmas Memories. Slightly over fifty years ago it was my good fortune to meet Arthur Franklin Mapes. With ten children it was necessary to have gainful employment, as in a factory building windmills. No Quixotic tilting for him, his thoughts turned to visions of how he saw his surroundings . Perhaps the monotony of life as a machinist provided mental space for dreaming of the words to describe what he saw as a beautiful world around him. When this modest man entered the radio station accompanied by people I honestly don’t recall, he didn’t offer the persona of a “hail fellow, well met.” It was his poems that spoke for him and speak to us now. “Indiana” had recently been adopted as the state poem and later would help him to become Poet Laureate of the state. I was appropriately impressed, but much more interested in the way he thought and wrote about the lovely things in life. Some of my favorite folk stories were tales of an itinerant man who travelled the American Midwest planting seeds for tart apples while establishing the requirements for land grants. Instead of retelling the stories poetically, Mapes described the man as he saw him in one of his shortest pieces, Johnny Appleseed.
The bloom of apple orchards
Marked the lonely trails he trod.
His Bible was his weapon,
His strength was faith in God.
His orchards were his gardens,
God blest them from above.
He toiled, but yet he conquered
For his labor…was his love.
Knowing that I enjoyed reading his work on WAWK in Kendallville, Indiana, Arthur stopped in late that year with some of his favorites about clearly his favorite season. Recently searching for recordings, I discovered Angela Mapes Turner (Mr. Mapes proud and talented granddaughter) through her website. Checking with her family she found her uncle, Dean Mapes, had made digital copies of a broadcast from 1981. Completely self-serving, I chose three that I had recorded in 1964. The first sort of sets the scene. Christmas Memories.
Another look at the way he saw the season was his White Magic.
I loved his many roaming rhyming stories of a local character who seemed to eke a meager living selling the flavorful roots from local trees. Hence the name Sassafras John.
You may have noticed when I paused to swallow toward the end. Even today, I choke up before finishing. This is the season for remembering the good things in our lives and sharing with others because of our love and caring. You have experienced wonders of life that you recall. Arthur Franklin Mapes seemed to find wonder in everything he saw. Today we recall him and his poems among our Christmas Memories. Think About It.
More poems and info from Angela Mapes Turner. All materials used under recognized fair-use standards.
