Gerald Stern

December 1, 1994

I put the pyrocanthus in a blue vase and spread the coneflower over my kitchen table. I had to make sure they could bear the noise and catch the benefits of my small radio as if they were more than flowers?glass frogs at least, or metal quail, their ears amazed, their small heads nodding with the music. As far as the changes in government, as far as that noise, the frog presides over that, he is a kind of congressman anyhow with his huge mouth open to catch the flies and beetles; he has turned green from money sticking to his skin. As far as the coneflower, as far as the rays, they were already gone and only the wood was left, only the naked beautiful heads. As far as my love was concerned I picked them before the snow came, before the ice filled up the cavities and the cold leaves turned thin and curled themselves around the stem. As far as the pyrocanthus, as far as the vase, as far as the metal quail, their eyes turned up, their tiny beaks in the air, I turned the knob from music to religion and let it rest on wisdom, two or three voices, an English, a German, discussing rape in Asia, discussing starvation, the quail nodded, even the pyrocanthus nodded, and I, a little furious, I turned to Canada to see what the French were doing. That day I ate soba, with parsley; I ate standing up; I fed the quail: I fed the plants, though they were dead, I listened to the forecast, I shaved in the dark, making sure I got both cheeks and the hair above the bullet. Afterwards I opened a 1970 New York Times, something

A Conversation with Gerald Stern

I Can’t Bear Losing), only that it’s taken him until late in his career to do so. Many of the poems Stern has written during his long career could just as easily have been essays—something he points out about Coleridge during the interview. Stern spoke by telephone from his New Jersey home about the different impulses behind the writing of poetry and prose, shyness, Judaism, and the importance to culture of appreciating a good cheese.

At Jane's

Director, Center for Economic Education, California State University, East Bay (1982–present) Conduct economics workshops for teachers and other audiences; develop economic education materials and curricula; conduct research and evaluation in economic education. Professor of Economics, Emerita, California State University, East Bay (2010–present) Faculty Early Retirement Program 2010-2015; Adjunct faculty 2015 – present Consultant to USAID Indonesia through Global Economic Education Alliance (2017-present) Develop curricula and conduct evaluation for financial literacy project to improve employability of poor and vulnerable Indonesian youth. Consultant to Council for Economic Education (2011-2014; 2016-present) Develop questions and serve as judge for Economics Challenge, a national high school economics competition. Board of Directors, Global Economic Education Alliance (2012–present) Founding board member and director of non-profit organization dedicated to promoting economic and financial literacy worldwide. Consultant & Board Member, Bay Area Financial Education Foundation (2014-present) Design and conduct economic education programs for high school teachers.

For Night To Come

in the right direction. He is weeping because of the sweet air, and remembering our canoe trip, and how we went swimming on Mothers Day. And I am remembering the holiness and how we stopped talking after we left Route 30. I show him the tree with the two forks and the one with the stubs and the one with the orange moss underneath, and we make our nest in a clearing where the wind makes hissing noises and the sun goes through our heavy clothes. All morning we lie on our backs, holding hands, listening to birds, and making little ant hills in the sand. He shakes a little, maybe from the cold, maybe a little from memory, maybe from dread. I think we are lost, only a hundred yards from the highway, and we will have to walk around in fear, or separate and look for signs before we find it again. We pick a small green tree, thick with needles and cones and dangling roots, and put it in the trunk on top of the blanket, and straighten the branches out, and smooth the hairs. All the way back we will be teary and helpless, loving each other in the late afternoon, and only when we have made the first cut and done the dance