April is poetry month, and once again I have roped myself into (Lord help me) writing a new poem every day throughout the month. It brings questions to mind to which I have no good answer. Why? Who cares? Well you may ask.

I was taking a sabbatical from Das Rheingold on Saturday and listening to The Debaters on CBC. This was the very topic: Question–Is poetry still relevant? The "pro" position was taken by a prominent Canadian poet who said that poetry was of inestimable value to individuals who are–let us say ill-proportioned–in obtaining face-time with the opposite sex. His opponent was the grudge-bearing son of a member of the Canadian League of Poetry, who said poetry only made sense to the deeply bongified and the congenitally maudlin, examples of which had darkened his kitchen table throughout childhood. Bringing to mind the admonition of Lazarus Long, the Heinlein character: "Beware a man who reads his own poetry in public; he may have other unpleasant habits."

You can discover evidence for either point of view among the new poems in my One April blog. And you can give me a hand. I have 24 more poems to write over the next few weeks, and have good ideas for maybe one or two of them. Feel free to advise, admonish or excoriate me in a comment below.

In some ways, it's a cruel time of year. The equinox creates expectations the weather won't deliver. So today's bare ground awaits an April Fool's Day snowfall. And you can't even call it a late storm–the same could happen on Mother's Day–and has. Heart and hope may be ready for southern breezes, but reality (as usual) comes prefixed with cold, with hard. You can't depend on the weather. Only on grit, on perseverance, and on the kindness of friends.

As workers in public media, we are in the midst of a climate as uncertain and variable as the North Country weather. One thing that does look certain is that our listeners will once again step up and help us to reach the goal of our Spring Drive. The numbers look good so far–thank you all very much. But what that goal should be, and what will happen with other funding sources is as much a crapshoot as predicting next week's weather. We don't know yet how we fared in the NY budget–last word was a 10% cut. And what our federal funding will be in the remainder of this year and coming years would require a Ouija board to determine. The possibilities range from zip to ouch. We can only be sure it won't be more.

This comes at a time of sea change in the way media is produced and paid for. At NCPR we are investing more of our resources in online services. And while we have radio fundraising down pretty well–having an unlimited supply of iron jawbone and chutzpah–the business model to support online activities is less certain. So it's especially gratifying to know that we can rely on you, friends to public radio and to NCPR. You can be counted on to help us weather the weather, and to bring this slightly tattered operation through to a warmer future.

Back in my collective living days in the 1970s, a popular acronym was TANSTAAFL–which stands for "There ain't no such thing as a free lunch." Like all conventional wisdom at that time, it became a matter of debate in liquid late night bull sessions. As I recall it was Paul who, waving his hands in enthusiasm, maintained the universal truth of the acronym. I replied, "Yeah? When was the last time you paid your gravity bill?" "Last time I fell over," he said. The motion carried.

Which brings us to the present case. Public Radio may look an awful lot like a free lunch, but it is no exception to the rule. So it's time for our annual Spring Fundraiser, beginning bright and early Monday morning, and running through Saturday. How we make our daily bread has been in the news a lot lately–and not necessarily in a good way–but however you feel about the federal slice of our budget, the private contributions of individuals are really what makes the system work. In our case, individual gifts averaging around $100 make up our single largest source of revenue.

If you eat NCPR's "lunch" on a regular basis, this is when you get the tab. Unlike your local diner, we don't tell you how much to pay–that's up to you. But it has to get paid one way or the other–otherwise, no more lunch. Thanks to everyone who has already dug out the wallet. Or, you can pay the tab right now.

One of the problems with having a regular writing gig is that there are certain times I shouldn't be allowed near a keyboard. When a bear has a toothache, it's not a good time to ask him to dance in the marketplace. And my beefs are many. That's the nature of beef–dwelling on one just brings to mind the next–until you have a whole slaughterhouse of carcasses hanging in your head.

Most of my objections, naturally, involve the behavior of other people. What's up with them? My zen teacher recommends, when suffering from compulsive negativity, to consult the observer who lives (I imagine) in my brain stem, and who looks from time to time up from his notepad to remark, "Having opinions about other people's behavior again." Somehow that's supposed to help me let go of unproductive thinking. But I have a beef with that guy in my head, too–damn know-it-all.

memo to self:
Breath in.

ps:
Breath out.

addendum:
On subsequent occasions, have a column on the spike. Rainbows, maybe, or unicorns.

Ever since the fall election, public broadcasters have been waiting for the new congress to take action, as promised, to de-fund the system that supports (in part) local broadcasters across the nation, including North Country Public Radio. Here's where things stand now, according to 170 Million Americans for Public Broadcasting:

This week S 162 was introduced, making it the 6th bill in Congress to cut or eliminate funding for public broadcasting. Unfortunately the biggest threat we face is not in the form of a stand-alone bill, but in the Continuing Resolution (CR) funding legislation for the remainder of FY2011, which is likely to be voted on in the House of Representatives next week.

Public broadcasting programs including CPB, CPB Digital, PTFP, Ready To Learn, and RUS Digital are likely targets for cuts or elimination in this CR. In addition, amendments to remove any funding public broadcasting programs do receive in the base CR are likely. It is critical [to] engage members of Congress and communities in advance of floor votes potentially occurring as soon as February 14.

The most basic action you can take is simple: go to 170 Million Americans for Public Broadcasting and register to participate in the network, or go to the 170 Million Americans Facebook page and "like" it. Either way, you will receive updates and suggested action as the campaign unfolds.

Here are some other things you can do:

• Go to NCPR's Facebook page and post a message of support–text, photo, video–however you want to weigh in. ("Like" the page–if you have not already done so–in order to post.)
• Go to your own congressional representative's Facebook page (all four reps in our listening area have one) and tell them how you feel about public broadcasting in general and about North Country Public Radio in particular. Here are the four Facebook page addresses:
  Rep. Bill Owens (NY24) | Rep. Chris Gibson (NY20) | Rep. Richard Hanna (NY23) | Rep. Peter Welch (VT1) (You also need to "like" your rep's page in order to post)
• If you are not a Facebook member, send your messages (and who your rep is) to me (dale@ncpr.org) and I will see they get passed along.

Don't wait. Decisions are being made now that will affect the future of your investment in public broadcasting.

As someone who spends a lot of time staring at a blank computer screen, I try to select images for my desktop that will remind me what I'm supposed to be about. My latest is a hand-colored version of the "Flammarion engraving," an anonymous wood engraving first published in 1888 in L'atmosphère: météorologie populaire by Camille Flammarion.

The Flammarion engraving

It shows a man in a monk's robe with his head stuck out through the sky to look upon the heavenly realms. While this medieval vision of cosmology has long been superseded by science, the engraving still holds a psychological truth–that there is an unseen world of wonders always just out of view. While the world of the monk is full of its own beauty, he reaches out for what is beyond.

It is the most human of aspirations, and one that anyone working in the media must keep in mind. People go out of themselves and their daily lives into the worlds we present–on the radio, online, in books and performances. While we may not be able to deliver the music of the spheres or the great engine of Ezekiel's wheel, we do our best when we create wonder, when we make the audience glad that they came, when we give them something so astonishing and unexpected that they reach out to touch it.