As we stand poised between politics and history, I am reminded of the epigraph of Frank Prentice Rand's The Village of Amherst: A Landmark of Light a pretentiously titled but in fact very useful volume from our centennial era (Amherst Historical Society, 1958):
ParableThree men were, as the saying goes, looking at Amherst, and loving her.One of them said, "She's a madonna lily,""Do you mean that she's like a madonna lily?""No, she is a madonna lily."Another said, "She's a rat-tailed, razzle-dazzle ball of energy."The third man said, "She's paranoia—punch-drunk with intellectualism."A small boy, who had been hiding, blew a strident toot on his toy trumpet, and ran away to join his playmates at Hartling Stake.
Okay. I have no idea what it means, either.
1 comment:
That poem is just a highfalutin way of saying: "Amherst MA: Where Only The 'H' Is Silent."
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