Description:
The monument that was erected to display the poem At Roxbury Crossing looks like it has seen better days. The text on the face of the monument has been severely weathered and is barely visible. The granite slab sits rather awkwardly in a corner away from the main station area. In this way, the monument itself becomes virtually invisible.
About the Author:
Jeanette Winthrop wears many hats: teacher, retiree of 12 years, wife of 50 years and still going, mother of three, grandmother of six; and sometimes writer, which, she says, "has given me many satisfying moments." Winthrop had been teaching reading through writing for many years when she joined one of Barbara H. Hyatt's poetry workshops. Her teacher had a copy of the solicitation letter from the Boston Contemporary Writers' Project and gave it to her saying, "Here, you write about Boston." She submitted her first piece of writing: it was that simple. Winthrop is currently finishing a book of her collected poems. About 20-25 of her poems have been published over the course of her life, but she proudly states, "Nothing was as exciting as the first one: imagine, it ended up carved in granite" (from e-mail correspondence with the author).
Response:
Upon first glance, I honestly didn't think this monument was anything overtly special. It seemed to be a simple slab of granite with a poem etched into the face - a poem that, after so many years of neglect, was barely visible to the eye. I had to stand at an extreme angle in order to catch glimpses of the text. Needless to say, this made it quite a challenge to ascertain any overall meaning from the poem. Outside of the materials I read engaging the overall Arts in Transit initiative, there was nothing I could see that would give this monument a significance that I could really hold on to.
When I finally got hold of the transcript of the poem that had been carved into that cold stone, the words breathed a new air of life. I was now able to follow a young girl as she traveled through her neighborhood and experienced the world around her. She leaves the candy store and walks past the grocery store; next, she comes to a scary railroad bridge that makes her hurry around a corner where she is met by familiar aromas and sights that conjure powerful memories. The previously empty words now embodied a sense of home and familiarity. The images displayed in this poem are filled with emotion: they elicit feelings of comfort and reassurance. They remind us, as Winthrop was once told, that "people once lived there."
By Maxim Olivier.
