Irene

When I was a small child

I thought the TV could watch me, too.

I watched the shows I had to see:

Batman, Bewitched, The Flintstones

Then I quickly shut it down. I did not

need background noise or communist eyes from behind the iron curtain seeing my every move.

I cannot sleep with little electric eyes in the room with me. I don't

call for complete blanketed darkness. It's

those little red and green eyes I don't

like sleeping near.

I glide through the kitchen in the night

amidst the little electric eyes. They

light my way to where I need to go-

I don't trip over anything. The coffee pot,

the stove top, the microwave: all eyes

are watching my way.

The hurricane knocked out the electricity

last Sunday. The eyes became unfriendly

black sockets. No coffee, no oatmeal.

I lit candles to read by and see my

way around in the dark. Out on the porch

in the solid darkness at 4 am, the stars in

the constellations lit up the night sky.

I opened the curtains and the shades wide

so the glittering sky would drift into my house.

They shined on my little black sewing machine

my friend Kay gave me after the last power

outage zapped the life out of my other machine.

This one I unplug when I leave the room.

I want it to sew forever. It is the family

jewel in my house. Kay is 90 and it was

her mother's back in California. I love this

little black Singer machine. The new machines

are white and ghost-like. This one is an

elegant little lady with staying power. The

man in the repair shop who looked it over for

me said it's the best, most tip-top featherweight

he's ever worked on. When I went

to pick it up, another lady tried to buy

it out from under me.

Irene came, Irene left. The little electric eyes

all came back on the next day. The stars

dimmed. Those communists were constantly lurking-


Rowena Dunlap Burke

September 5, 2011

Plea for Reconsideration

Public figures we are:

Tall and poised we stand,

Sentries of common and uncommon domiciles.

Although we have both passed the century mark,

We are strong, willing & eager

To live at least a century more.

We have no birth certificates at town hall,

No social security numbers,

Or drivers’ licences.

‘Lest you think we are passing the hat

At this holy time of year,

Fear not the bells of charity mongers!

All we ask is sun, rain and good drainage,

And at least another hundred years-

You see—I am an ash tree and my friend 2 streets away

Is a maple.

RDB

12/17/1995
published in ProJo South County section

Hundred Dollar Poem

Saga of Rowena: Feelin’ no pain O how’ll I ever sustain?

IwishIwishIwishIwerepartofthesky,

TherewouldbeNOBANKZ

No safeway cashiers robbing you blind so you can eat in winter,

No landlords aknockin’ at your door for dollars and cents,

My money has burnt a hole in my mattress…I am cold lonely and

Broke and all I have to sleep on is an ash heap.

Even my refrigerator it sings the blues for butter and eggs

I do not understand these people- these dentists and barbers and

Abortionists.

They take what you have and it is still not enough. They want

Your goddamned money, too.

But I have a heart of gold I’m told

Free of dollars and cents

O Don’t let me be your dollars and cents baby.

I am not a cash crop. You couldn’t buy me at a store.

(They chose me out of a hospital window, Sweetheart, and they

made sure to pick the only one with a rose tattoo)…

O I am but a crazy woman

I would jump out of planes if I could

I’d play my cello till the sky turned yellow

O I am a naked woman in the mountains…they’ve taken my

Body, now they want my soul

I’d go to Venus and Jupiter on my P.F. flyers. I’d wear silver

And pink, paint my body effervescent blue. For you.

I would keep 72 mutt dogs

And 99 beds of roses on my kitchen floor.

I would grow artichoke hearts in my oven at an even temperature

And have faucets that leaked lime daiquiris and green rivers

To the thirst wanton fields.

I would live inside a volcano at sea

And marry a fire swallower to take care of me…

Saga of Rowena: broke and lonely, eating the blues for her dinner…

-RD

Roxanne's Turtle

I rarely have a bad day on the job. Earlier this week I had a memorable great day: four children came in and one girl named Roxanne was their self-appointed spokesperson. They were on a mission. The construction foreman at a local home-building site put a turtle into their hands and asked them to take care of it. He’d found it under a log. They wanted to identify it and learn how to take care of it. They quickly identified it as a box turtle from the pictures in a book I pulled for them. They were without their library cards and with grubby hands, so I printed off box turtle care instructions from a reliable internet site. Roxanne scanned over it, and then read it aloud to the group. I asked them, it they possibly could, to bring the turtle by so I could see it, as I love turtles.

Lo and behold, several hours later, one of the children came running in and asked me to come out and see: they had followed the instructions to a T. The handsome box turtle was in a large nearly clear plastic crate with two inches of dirt, a few nicely placed rocks and several raspberries. And, he was happily munching on one of the raspberries!
A small crowd wrapped itself around the turtle in keen admiration. One gentleman named Mr. Guy, explained how, in his Native American culture, the 13 big sections of the turtle’s shell represent the 13 months of their calendar year, and that the 28 small sections encompassing the bottom edge of the shell represent the days of the month.
The turtle was a beautiful one: it had bright yellow markings and was a full-sized specimen, about six inches long and three-and-a half inches high. I hoped the children would release it before too long and a few days later, when they came in, they told me they had and it ventured off into a nearby field.

The whole event happened so quickly that it never occurred to me to take a photograph. However, I have a wonderful memory of those children, the handsome turtle, and Mr. Guy.

History of Dunlap Wheeler Park

A Beginning

In 1941, the Middletown Improvement Association spent $7,425 to secure property just east of the Newport/Middletown line, overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. The intent was to preserve the land as a park that was to remain a beautiful spot from which to enjoy the coastal views at the end of Easton’s Beach.

The Green Pioneers

Alan R. Wheeler, a history teacher at St. George’s School for 45 years, was president of the Middletown Improvement Association, and Pauline H. Haire served as chairman of the executive committee. A number of forward-looking private contributors made this possible: Mrs. Hugh D. Auchincloss, Mrs. Oliver G. Jennings, Mrs. Hamilton Fish Webster, Mrs. Walter Belknap James, Mrs. William R. Hunter, Countess Laszlo Szecheny, Mrs. Nicholas Brown, Mrs. Michael Van Buren, Mrs. Louis Butler McCagg, Mr. Walter Gurnee Dyer, Mr. Alan R. Wheeler, William P. Sheffield, Esq. Mrs. George Cerio, Mr. James O’Connell, Mr. and Mrs. Henry Parish, Dr. Henry Barton Jacobs, Miss Maude K. Wetmore, Miss Edith Wetmore, Mr. William H. Vanderbilt, Mrs. T. I. Hare Powel, Mrs. G. Bogart Blakely, Mr. and Mrs. W. Henry Williams, Francis L. V. Hoppin, Stewart Duncan, Anonymous, Mr. and Mrs. William McMaster Mills, and the Middletown Improvement Association.

Mr. Edward J. Corcoran served as notary public and James A. Peckham served as town clerk at the time of purchase.

In 1947 the 0.97-acre piece of property was turned over to the town of Middletown for the sum of $10, to be used as a park or a common. This group, however, did not leave a maintenance fund or arrange to landscape the park. The park served as a dirt parking lot for over two decades throughout the 1950s and 1960s.

Park Dedication- Alan R. Wheeler and Anne Slater Dunlap

 

In 1970 the town of Middletown dedicated the park to Alan R. Wheeler (1879-1956) and Anne Slater Dunlap (1922-1968), for their contributions to beautification of the town. Anne Slater Dunlap served the town of Middletown in many volunteer capacities. From 1965 to 1968 she was the first Green Acres Coordinator. She was secretary of the Conservation Commission during that same period. She was also very active in the Middletown Garden Club. Before there was a tree warden or a tree commission in Middletown, she saw the need for roadside trees. She brought this to the town’s attention, and she used her expertise as a botany professor to select the type of hardy tree that would provide the best ambience for the roads of Middletown. The town planted the pin oaks that Mrs. Dunlap selected (in the 1960s) up and down Green End Avenue, Riverview Avenue, Wyatt Road, and other roads in Middletown. Today their shade and foliage is enjoyed by hundreds of thousands of residents and visitors alike.

From Parking Lot to Landscaped Park

In 1978 the park returned to being a parking lot. In response to concerns expressed by Rowena Dunlap, daughter of Anne Dunlap, the town planted grass in the park and agreed to landscape the area. The town has mowed it but it has not yet been landscaped to show the park’s best face to the public.

In 2000, a grassroots effort, led by Rowena Dunlap Burke, was launched to help Dunlap Wheeler Park finally realize its potential as a fully landscaped place of beauty to be enjoyed by the public. Since then many individuals, local businesses and institutions, including family members of Alan Wheeler and Anne Slater Dunlap, have contributed to the effort and many talented individuals have volunteered their services.

Frank Amaral, of Amaral Landscaping in Newport created the initial design for Dunlap Wheeler Park in September 2000. With this design, the project gained serious momentum: Several grants were sought and awarded: a grant of $2,500 from the Aquidneck Island Land Trust, a matching grant of $11,000 from the R.I. D.E.M., and an $11,000 grant from the Bank of Newport. These monies were all deposited to a town account expressly for Dunlap Wheeler Park. Several fundraisers were held at the Atlantic Beach Club.

In August 2001, the chain link fence that surrounded the park was removed. The park took on a whole new open and inviting look. People commented on how good the park looked, inspiring and encouraging those who were working towards its revitalization to realize their goal. If it looks good now, why not make it look great?

A View to the Future

In the spring of 2003, plans by landscape architect Anna Tillinghast were approved by the town of Middletown. In addition to maintaining an open lawn area overlooking Easton’s Beach and the Atlantic Ocean, the design includes trees appropriate to the environment, walkways, benches, and appealing sculptures. Completion of planting is anticipated by August 2004.

Dunlap Wheeler Park has a site of unusual prominence on Aquidneck Island. From its waterfront position, thousands upon thousands of people drive, bicycle, and walk past it daily. Once beautified by elegant landscaping, it will become the true gateway to both Middletown and Newport.

March 2004

Last Chance Gulch

One very rainy nasty Wednesday evening 22 years ago, my good husband drove me across our small state to an interview at a tiny rural library. It was for a 24 hour a week director position. It must’ve been before handicapped accessibility regulations were put into law. I climbed a tall steep set of chairs to get into the very dimly lit library, and then climbed down another set of steep set of narrow stairs into the subterranean meeting room.

Getting there had been circuitous. One dark winding road led to an even darker more winding road into seeming nothingness. The first sign I could make out proclaimed, “Last Chance Gulch” over the driveway of a little rocky homestead.

I had gotten off my student intern job at another public library, transformed myself into interview material and hopped into the warm car for the ride to this interview. I didn’t have any time to be nervous. I looked as good as I could in a buttoned-up librarian sort of way.

Sitting around the table like the twelve apostles, in that subterranean meeting room were the library’s trustees. They all took turns giving me their versions of the mission and historic details of the library, asked several questions, some a little less than professional. Finally, I was asked if I had any questions for them. I asked why the current director was leaving the position. The older man trustee in the red plaid flannel shirt piped up, “He knocked up his wife and had to find a full-time position.”

Thankfully, a few weeks later, I found out they’d hired the woman who lived next door to be their new library director.

The Great Equalizer

I was a newly minted 30 year old librarian on my first professional job interview. I had very carefully, with a great deal of help from my old father, constructed a resume and cover letters for 5 different librarian positions. My husband drove me up to the city, coaching me a bit along the way. After the initial interview at the main library with the head of personnel, I was driven out to a branch library in a section of the city I’d never explored before. It was an asphalt jungle. The library was large, old, and imposing. It had been built as a fallout shelter. Though it was on street named for a large majestic tree, there was not a tree in sight. Nor were there any people outside walking. We parked in a gated, chain-linked parking lot behind the library.

The library director grilled me, much the way our family doctor always had, pounding my knees with his rubber mallet checking my reflexes. She hurled question after question at me. She was quick paced. I followed suit, feeling like I was on Jeopardy. Towards the end of the interview she asked me what I’d do if a library patron complained to me about the odor of another library patron. Now you probably know just as well as I do that the public library is the great equalizer. Everybody’s welcome. And people are only kicked out under the direst of circumstances. I chewed on that one for a minute and told her that I’d have a small basket of herbal sachets at the desk and if someone came to me with that complaint, I’d give them one to sniff instead of the poor unbathed person.

Not too long afterwards I was hired.