Daniel J. Berrigan, 1921-2016

Daniel J. Berrigan, Jesuit priest, poet and anti-war activist passed away April 30, 2016 in New York City. He was 94. (New York Times

Berrigan was a longtime friend and supporter of James Humphrey.  Humphrey included Berrigan’s poem below in his book, Naked.


CONSOLATION

Listen

if now and then

you hear the dead

muttering like ashes

creaking like empty

rockers on porches

filling you in    filling you in

like winds in empty

branches    like stars

in wintry trees

so far

so good

you’ve mastered
finally

one foreign tongue


DANIEL BERRIGAN, S.J. 


In acknowledgment of baseball season’s opening day

EIGHT FOR EIGHT

For Michael Weintraub, MD


Age 42

Norma and I
visiting a friend,

University of
Iowa.

Scheduled game
between Writer’s Workshop

and an amateur
team.

Workshop short a
player.

Volunteered.

At bat eight
times,

smacked seven
homers.

One inning to go,
eighth time at plate,

pitcher hollers
in:

THIS IS THE LAST BALL

PLEASE KEEP IT INSIDE THE
PARK!

I call out to
right fielder:

WHERE DO YOU WANT IT HIT?

Tosses cap to about six feet

in front of the
wall, yells back:

FIVE BUCKS SAYS YOU CAN’T
HIT MY CAP!

I did;

turned it into a
stand-up triple,

laughing and
laughing


James Humphrey, 1998, Yonkers, NY

© James Humphrey Trust


TAKE ME OUT TO THE BALLGAME

In final vision
before leaving this

lifetime,

had just lobbed
my old glove

to that magic
edge where grass meets

wooden center
field fence;

always a good
sign the ball gods

will favor you.

Joyfully fell to
belly,

burying nose in
the flawless green heaven,

sweet dirt.

Rolled onto back;

all senses filled
with the park’s smells!

Went wonderfully
deaf from its sounds!

It was a game again!

Other players? 
Fans?

Eleven men older
than me in earthly years,

each perfect in
his prime now,

wildly gestured
and hollered from first base side

top dugout stair,

cheering me
towards them.

Wasn’t
astonished.  Wasn’t surprised.

Knew it would
be this way.

Human destiny was to be the greatest

baseball player
of my time

–build the first
ranch for young survivors

who had also been
sadistically abused

when babies—into
puberty.

All box seats,
grandstands and bleachers were

empty

except for an
attractive, light brown-haired woman

perfect in her
prime,

radiant in a
black sheath, matching picture hat,

sitting in center
of grandstand, halfway

between home and
third.

When she smiled
at me,

I sensed she was
happy.

I sensed the
woman was Norma.

I sensed we were
meeting

who each other
truly was

for the first
time.

Without breaking
stride,

and with my right
forefinger and thumb,

touched the brim
of my cap,

nodding slightly.

In the always
dry, pleasing breezes of

permanent spring,
I had accomplished the

final lesson of
the perfect rainbow arc:

I was about to
become an eternally active player

on a prestigious
baseball club.

Each player had,
when earthbound,

a lifetime
batting average higher than 320

Now each man in
his own special way

of introducing
himself, was bringing me home

at last:

ED DELAHANTLY   TRIS SPEAKER

TY COBB   PAUL WANER

BABE RUTH   BILL TERRY

LOU GEHRIG   ROGERS HORNSBY

JIMMIE FOXX   HONUS WAGNER

SHOELESS JOE JACKSON

If you went to the ballpark

when it was
America’s pastime,

and the Sultan
of Swat
was present,

you either
knew—or soon learned,

he most surely
would have the final word!

Why should this
special occasion of all

to me,

be any different?

But it was!

And his words
both astonished and surprised me!

Where yuh been, Rookie—we been
waitin’ on yuh!


James Humphrey, 2000, Yonkers, NY 

©James Humphrey Trust




Near his workspace, Humphrey kept many cigar boxes filled with things that he used and referenced during his days. Saroyan, his son, photographed a few as a series. 


Refreshed website features more Humphrey

The James Humphrey website has been relaunched with a new design with more functionality, more writing (including unpublished work) and an expanded archive, including a section on teaching creative writing. You will also find links to recordings of Humphrey reading and a collection of sound collages, which Humphrey used as a teaching tool. 

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