Knoxville: Summer 1915
 

KNOXVILLE: SUMMER 1915

We are talking now of summer evenings in Knoxville Tennessee in that time that I lived there so successfully disguised to myself as a child.

It has become that time of evening when people sit on their porches, rocking gently and talking gently and watching the street and the standing up into their sphere of possession of the trees, of birds' hung havens, hangars. People go by; things go by. A horse, drawing a buggy, breaking his hollow iron music on the asphalt; a loud auto; a quiet auto; people in pairs, not in a hurry, scuffling, switching their weight of aestival body, talking casually, the taste hovering over them of vanilla, strawberry, pasteboard and starched milk, the image upon them of lovers and horsemen, squared with clowns in hueless amber.

A streetcar raising its iron moan; stopping, belling and starting; stertorous; rousing and raising again its iron increasing moan and swimming its gold windows and straw seats on past and past and past, the bleak spark crackling and cursing above it like a small malignant spirit set to dog its tracks; the iron whine rises on rising speed; still risen, faints; halts; the faint stinging bell; rises again, still fainter, fainting, lifting, lifts, faints foregone: forgotten. Now is the night one blue dew.

Now is the night one blue dew, my father has drained, he has coiled the hose.

Low on the length of lawns, a frailing of fire who breathes.

Parents on porches: rock and rock. From damp strings morning glories hang their ancient faces.

The dry and exalted noise of the locusts from all the air at once enchants my eardrums.

On the rough wet grass of the back yard my father and mother have spread quilts. We all lie there, my mother, my father, my uncle, my aunt, and I too am lying there. They are not talking much, and the talk is quiet, of nothing in particular, of nothing at all. The stars are wide and alive, they seem each like a smile of great sweetness, and they seem very near. All my people are larger bodies than mine, with voices gentle and meaningless like the voices of sleeping birds. One is an artist, he is living at home. One is a musician, she is living at home. One is my mother who is good to me. One is my father who is good to me. By some chance, here they are, all on this earth; and who shall ever tell the sorrow of being on this earth, lying, on quilts, on the grass, in a summer evening, among the sounds of the night. May God bless my people, my uncle, my aunt, my mother, my good father, oh, remember them kindly in their time of trouble; and in the hour of their taking away.

After a little I am taken in and put to bed. Sleep, soft smiling, draws me unto her: and those receive me, who quietly treat me, as one familiar and well-beloved in that home: but will not, oh, will not, not now, not ever; but will not ever tell me who I am.

-- James Agee, 1938

Sounds lovely doesn't it..

I can remember sitting on my grandparents' porch in Norfolk Va. They had one of those swinging seats on it and I loved sitting in it. My grandfather had a client who paid him in goods-every Sunday he went to her farm and brought home all the vegetables for the week-and we'd sit on the porch and shell peas and snap string beans-it was fun..

Thanks for posting this..

Vianna

Wow, thanks for posting that, David. :) Agee has some really wonderful work out there that should definitely be read. I live just outside of Knoxville, and I went to college in Knoxville. It is a wonderful town even now. I just love it here. Of course, I have read and heard a lot about James Agee because of living here. In the past week or so, there have been several things about James Agee and his work in the Knoxville paper, Knoxville News Sentinel, and the underground-type, city paper, The Metro Pulse, that I have read and found interesting. Here are the links, if anyone would like to check them out. I just thought there might be some individuals interested in learning more about him, etc. :shrug:


Metro Pulse

Knoxville News Sentinel

More Knoxville News Sentinel

More Knoxville News Sentinel

More Knoxville News Sentinel


If anyone has a specific question about Knoxville, after reading any of these articles, I would be more than happy to talk with you about it.

:eek:

I was born in Knoxville and lived there until I was 7, then lived in Kingston until I was 12. And one set of grandparents lived in Knoxville, and one set in Oak Ridge. We were constantly driving to both cities for family fun.

And on weekends, we would take "time travel" camping trips ( ;) ) since in Kingston we lived so close to the Time Zone line. A quick 15-minute drive west, and it was an hour earlier. But we never set our clocks back -- instead we'd just stay out "later" exploring the woods and generally terrorizing the campground. :laugh:

Have the dogwoods started to bud yet, or are they already blooming? I have fond memories of trips to the Smokies to see the hillsides covered in flowers.

That is so cool! Glad to know that you were once a Knoxville resident. I also know where Kingston is as well. I used to be from a small town in West Tennesee called Camden. My parent still live there, so I drive by Kingston everytime I go west to Camden to visit.

You still have family in this area. That is really neat. You do come this way often?

To answer your question above, the dogwoods have definitely started blooming, and the Dogwood Arts Festival kicked off this week as well. I live in the mountains now (just outside of Knoxville), so I know what you are talking about when it comes to the view. The views are truely spectacular!

Oh man - my family (mostly Mom's side) now live all over the greater Knoxville area - Maynardville, Marble City, Farragut, Sevierville, etc. (in addition to Kingston and Oak Ridge as mentioned before). Just about everywhere except actually in town. LOL

However, my Mom's parents used to live on Broadway, and we could climb to the top of the bluff behind her house and see downtown from there. It was quite a hike, but it was worth it for the views of The Sunshpere. I still like that thing, no matter what The Simpsons think of it. ;) :laugh: And yes, I attended the '82 World's Fair, and I still have a box full of souvenirs to prove it.

I really miss the dogwoods and festival, as well as the Azalea Trail the city used to promote. Texas has acres and acres of gorgeous wildflowers to see, but it's just not quite the same as a mountainside covered in blooming white, pink, and red trees.

Unfortunately, I haven't made it back "home" since '96 when my grandmother (Dad's Mom) died. But my brother and his wife just announced they're gonna have a baby in December, so I forsee a trip up next spring, maybe, to show off the new addition. :D Maybe we can even schedule it to coincide with the dogwood show!!!