Growing up, Poetry and the threat, the challenge or the even the suggestion to read, evaluate, contemplate was always a form of cerebral challenge, apparent unearned punishment and/or personal affront….Somehow the transition from a dictated structure poem to free-flow rhetorical run-on hip hop style has still not helped. As many of us, I want to like poetry…but still it must serve my need for paleopoetic structure, rhyme and melody…with a cadence that supports an underlining message made by witty contrasts, humorous hypocrisy, or possibly a hint of passive/aggressive scolding. I found such a resource in the poetry of our own emeritus poet, Rose Anne Edmondson.

Sadly Rose Anne passed away in November. She was a vital spark to the uniqueness of our club, we were very fortunate to have her lead us in our rhetorical quests…as she was patient in that stern school marm way but always offering helpful advise with warm encouragement to all. All feared her table topics that posed quotes unlearned by titled professors..yet she always cherished our flailing attempts and professed some compliment for even the weakest endeavor. Her biggest frustration was our casual attention to the long established rituals to use the Word of the Day but was always appeased when she was tasked as Grammarian….where those of us who fantasized about Toastmaster awards often had our egos humbled…all as almost a family.

We will miss you Grand Lady.

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