The First Time Ever

About the Book

Oh how the truth does bite. After class had closed, standing by the desk, of my seventh grade teacher. I was receiving, a large spoon full of that bitter but, necessary medicine called truth.

“Well now Freddy Maguyer Tarrant” said the crotchety old Irish teacher. “Here you are showing up on your first day at this school for the blind with all the qualifications that should send you straight back to the fourth or fifth grade. However, since you are twelve years old, I’ll give you just one chance to buckle down and work your way out of your abysmal condition of ignorance.

Just in this first day of class, I have learned that you have no understanding of numbers and most remarkably you do not even know the alphabet. You must have been living in a cave. Furthermore, it is inconceivable that the teachers you have had in the past have brought you to this point, knowing so little.”

“They too must have lived in caves.”

Standing silently by Miss Feelin’s desk, I felt a deep and overwhelming sense of dread and yet a deeper sense of burning shame. I knew in my heart of hearts that what she said was true. Two hundred miles from home in a boarding school for the blind, knowing nothing, I thought, when Miss Feelin said: “Now here is a poem in braille, Freddy, that you must learn by heart and recite before the class on Friday and no excuses”.

“This poem is entitled, “To a Waterfowl” by William Cullen Bryant and in this poem there are five words, in particular, that you must remember to your dying day, yes, to your dying day”. These five words are: “Lone wandering, but not lost”, I repeat, “Lone wandering, but not lost” and you must never ever forget these words. These five words burst from old Miss Feelin with a nerve shattering shriek, with her knuckles banging on her desk top, for emphasis.

“Now you remember what I’ve told and be off to your next class for you remind me of an Irish fiddle, all strings and no bow. I expect that every vagrant breeze that comes along will have its way with you.”

That was 1938 and now it is seventy-three years later. And yes, I did learn those miserable numbers and even learned the alphabet. Those five words “Lone wandering, but not lost” have stood me in good stead, and yes, these vagrant breezes rushing down from these old, old hills around Palmares, Costa Rica do have their way with me. They touch the strings of my heart and set the memories to dancing.

I invite you to read, reflect and enjoy the “First Time Ever”.

About the Author

The labor of Jan’s birth began at the San Francisco Opera house in a World War II blackout during the second act of Rigoletto, Jan Pierce tenor, Jan’s namesake, from then he has been haunted by the musical sounds and meanings of words and the silences in between them. Being nurtured in a devoutly religious but intensely artistic home his hauntings soon took the form of poetry. Despite his many academic degrees and varied professional careers, his poetry has survived as his primary personal calling. The author of fi ve previous books: “Burning Bush”1985, “Particles of Thought” 1988 (both University Flaming Arrow Press), “Ibis of Imaginings, a Poetic Diary” (Editorama Poesia 1995), Loom (TELAR) in 2005 and "Suite de La Habana" in 2006 both Edicions Union (UNEAC, Cuba) in which Otterstrom recounts a peculiar poetic odyssey, as he decided to abandon the security of his business career to return to an inner home which became Havana, Cuba to discover its importance to his destiny as poet.