By Tom McGowan
Oh Riki.
I have to admit I don’t like poems. That is not quite right… I do like some poems and occasionally love a poem – but in general, I struggle with many poems I read.
That said, Riki Bolster’s book of poems was an easy read. She is an Ormewood Park resident, a many-year Journalism teacher at Grady High School and also the leader of a book club – so perhaps her debut in print is not unexpected if overdue. A major theme is the experience of immigration, which is more than topical today in the USA.
Ilze’s Daughter is the title and it’s Riki’s family history and biography turned poetic. It moves back and forth in time, from origins in Latvia to Germany to the US to a Latvian enclave in Pennsylvania and finally, finally, to Atlanta, GA.
The rural life poems remind me of my family summers away – in Connecticut – living in what must have been a small tenant farmer’s house (3 small rooms, 2 bunk beds in one, a trundle and fold down in the living room), with hand-pumped well water and a two-hole outhouse out back. Many alive today have not experienced such. Yes, Riki and others lived without electricity and modern conveniences at times but had the grace of time and family and farm fresh food and milk with cream rising to the top. And they persevered and lived through tragic times escaping from the WWII war torn continent to America.
The poems evoke the experience of escape, loss of home, loss of family and friends, of people left behind, of years in DP (displaced-persons) camps along the way. Of waiting and waiting for the chance to sail across the Atlantic to a new home. Of food cooked as they did in the old country, the taste of a torn-off handful of freshly baked bread, of Grandmother’s recipes handed down, not written — but taught — to grandchildren. Of “Papa” and his extra job as a caretaker on an estate, showing the trust people put in him, and joy of the children visiting there while he worked away. Of things that still must go on in life, babies being born, hopes for the future, of siblings finding their place in the sibling order, hand-me-down clothes, of opening Christmas presents the night before, and yes, will I date? Will I find a mate for life?
A particularly striking poem, If Only I Could, was on news that left-behind Uncle Jekab is alive and they have received a letter, yes a letter, from him in the mail. He is glad to be alive, glad to know the family made it to the US. His only sadness is his leather jacket was destroyed in the bombing. And the sadness of Ilze (Riki’s mother) is that his request for them to ship him one must go unfulfilled.
Riki will be reading from her book at the Poetry and Wine Club at the Little Shop of Stories in Decatur on November 20 at 7:00pm.
