S2 Ep3 Love

Network Sting: MSW Media Media

Martin Sheen: Hello and welcome to the second season of the Martin Sheen Podcast with yours truly, Martin Sheen, of course. And I’m delighted to be back hosting this podcast pilgrimage where the destination is still the journey itself. Along the way, I plan to share stories and personal memories of some of the many people, place places and events that have helped to shape my lifelong happy and continuing struggle as an artist and a man to unite the will of the spirit with the work of the flesh. I also hope to explore poetry as a powerful form of expression and communication by proxy, as it were, and how poetry is such a vital and necessary component of our spirituality and our public discourse. And from time to time, I’ll invite friends, fellow actors, poets, scholars and family members to join our pilgrimage and discuss what inspires their artistic journey. And so, friends, let us begin.

This episode is very dear to my heart. In fact, it. It’s dedicated to matters of the heart, namely, love. And perhaps nothing speaks the language of love more eloquently than poetry. But just as there are many kinds of poetry, there are many kinds of love as well. Romantic love, the love that leads to self-realization, a love that awakens the soul and stirs us to action and a love that can break the heart and shake us to our core. There is a love that is enduring and unending, but there is also a loss of love that brings a grief that time will never heal. Many of the poets in this episode encapsulate the themes mentioned here, along with the biting wit of a writer and poet I’m sure many of you will recognize and appreciate

Our first poem. Song comes from an old friend and fellow actor, Roscoe Lee Brown.

“SONG”

If the birds do not come

I, whose wings are cleft

And whose gentle talons

Hold you fast to my breast

And from whose throat comes only

The coarse, grey, and grating cry

Of extremity – where no music is –

I, if the birds do not come,

Will sing to you…

If the birds do not come,

Will you who are spring and

Flight and all music,

Will you sing to me,

If the birds do not come?

Roscoe Lee Brown was born May 2, 1922. He died April 11, 2007. He was 84 years old.

Consider this from Father Greg Boyle, the founder of Homeboy Industries, Homegirl Industries here in Los Angeles. When he was asked what motivated him to do what he does, his response was, “I went into the third world and they cracked open my heart.”

We turn again to the greatest poet in the English language, William Shakespeare. And Sonnet 29.

When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,

I all alone beweep my outcast state,

And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,

And look upon myself and curse my fate,

Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,

Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,

Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,

With what I most enjoy contented least;

Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,

Haply I think on thee, and then my state,

Like to the lark at break of day arising

From sullen earth sings hymns at heaven’s gate;

For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings

That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

 

Memory Deflection by yours truly.

 

Pausing ‘neath a street lamp

in a town that I once knew

I bid my heart surrender

to memory in review.

 

I tossed a merging caution

to the wind that swept my face

and scurried back with childlike awe

to that other time and place.

 

I saw me one and twenty

with her a year or more

bounding down from five flights up

and bursting out the door!

 

I swore I knew which way we’d go

inspired by destiny.

She followed mid the glow she said

with centered all ‘round me

 

“We’ll head that way,” I said to sway,

“through the mountains that you see.”

She must have known for she had grown but still deferred to me.

 

When I started keeping secrets

away from her embrace,

she kept an honest vigil

and lived through my disgrace.

 

With perfect, practiced pretense

I thwarted each new start

‘till she drew up her source of soul

and drove me from her heart.

 

“If I knew then what I know now…”

Is ‘oft served up as wise,

yet clearly in the years since then

I see things through her eyes.

 

I linger here still musing now

how life was meant to be

But the buildings gone before me

and the street lamps’ now a tree.

We’re going to take a brief pause now, but please don’t go away.

There’s a lot more to come.

Welcome back, and thanks for staying with us.

Now, dear friends, I’m deeply honored to share with you an interview with a Love of my life, my wife of a zillion years, Janet. We had a little chat at the mic, and as usual, her conversations always manage to surprise and delight me. And I’m delighted to share this one with you.

Martin: So, you’re rolling? Are we rolling?

Janet: You’re always rolling.

Martin: Janet, I’m so grateful for you agreeing to join me today. I know that, this is not one of your favorite things to do, but I was telling a story. earlier this week for an episode where I described your making your film debut in the Kennedy miniseries playing Elaine de Kooning. So we have been, on the air together, you could say, and that was in 1983, and we have not spoken publicly since then. So welcome back. You know.

Janet: Thanks for having me.

Martin: Oh, I’m delighted. And so, maybe we start by how we started. You and I met in New York in December of 1960. Am I in the right.

Janet: You are correct.

Martin: Okay. December 5th, you were living at that time in a five story walk up on 43rd street, just off 9th Avenue.

Janet: Hell’s Kitchen.

Martin: Hell’s Kitchen. Right. And you had a roommate named Kathy Guthmuller before I came on the scene. Yeah. So I remember, knocking on your door with our mutual friend Jimmy Tiroff, whom you were studying with at the New School for Social Research. And I was working at the Living Theater. And, Jimmy was, my landlord. Basically, he said one day, have I got a girl for you. She’s from Ohio, like you, and she’s wonderful and you gotta meet her. And so he took me up to your apartment building that day and we met. And what is your take on how we met?

Janet: Yeah, you were having a party at the Living Theater that night. It was some kind of celebration of the year, Christmas, I’m not sure what it was. And he thought it would be a good idea to invite me to that party. So that was the pretext. and we went to that party. He came up on his motorcycle or motorbike, and you were on the back wearing a kind of summer brown suit in the middle of winter, which I should have known then. Ah, what kind of hairpin you were. So, the three of us couldn’t go back on his scooter. So he said, well, you two take the subway and I’ll meet you back at the Living Theater. Which we did.

Martin: Yeah. And the party was at the Living Theater?

Janet: It was, yeah. Yeah. And you kept trying to bring me things, food and drinks and what have you. And I found you totally annoying.

Martin: Yeah. And after the party, I remember we went back to.

Janet: To his house. His house.

Martin: And I continued to try and, bring you food and drink. And you, continued to resist all of my.

Janet: And you ended up drinking it all, which got you a little tipsy. And then you, decided you wanted to take me home. And I said, no, I have a cab. I’ll see you. I closed the door and zoomed off.

Martin: Yeah, but that was not. The End of me it was not. No, ma’, am, no, no, no. I began the pursuit.

Janet: Well, you invited me to see your play where you were playing a crazy drug addict. And I just couldn’t wait to see that.

Martin: It was in a production of The Connection, which was a massive hit at the Living Theater at the time. And so I was in this run and, I was very, very, dramatic in my performance and kind of scary, I guess, but I knew. I had a sense, and I think I told you this over the years that I felt if I could get you to see me play, if you could see what kind of actor I was, why, you would be head over heels and there would be just no barring you from, your relationship with me. And am I in the right to say that that is exactly what happened?

Janet: Absolutely.

Martin: Tell us about the first time you saw me in that play.

Janet: There’s no way to describe it. I mean, it was like a, ah, hurricane. You did everything but eat the stage. I think you did eat the curtains.

Martin: And as I remember, you were somewhat concerned about me. And you came back at intermission under the pretext, you had a gift from me, but you wanted to see if I was all right.

Janet: Yeah, I did. I thought you’d lost your mind.

Martin: Yeah.

Janet: But you were perfectly fine. You were just standing there like the guy I’d met at the party. And, you know. Well, what’d you think of the play? I’m like, I don’t even know what to think.

Martin: Yeah. and it was only halfway through.

Janet: Yeah.

Martin: And you brought me a gift. Do you remember that?

Janet: Yes, I brought you a tie.

Martin: And I never kind of figured that out. Why did you bring me a tie?

Janet: I had it. It was in my belongings. And I thought, oh, here’s somebody I can give this tie to, finally.

Martin: And then what was our next so called date?

Janet: We started going for walks. We did.

Martin: Yeah.

Janet: And we used to walk in Central park at, like, midnight. When you could do that.

Martin: Yeah.

Janet: You know, in the snow and what have you. It was just, you know, any kind of young couples’ courtship.

Martin: Yeah. I remember, I used to come back to your apartment and hang out for a while. And your roommate, Kathy Guthmler, she kind of saw the handwriting on the wall after I, made so many repeated, adventures to your place. Eventually she moved out and I moved in.

Janet: But we couldn’t afford the rent, you and I. She and I could afford the rent because it was $40 a piece. Yeah, but you and I couldn’t afford the rent.

Martin: Yeah. Because I was making a total of $30 a week at that time. The Actor’s Equity minimum for an Off Broadway, stage play.

Janet: And the other thing was, I was throwing the key out the window to you because you didn’t have your own key and it would get lost in the snow sometimes.

Martin: And you and I moved in together. And, eventually we were asked to leave the premises. We were, evicted.

Janet: Well, I put Mr. And Mrs. On the mailbox, so it would kind of put people off, you know. But they caught on and they knew we weren’t married, so they. Yeah, you can say it.

Martin: Yeah. Well, we were living together in sin.

Janet: Exactly.

Martin: Yeah. Uh-huh. In those days, that was really not acceptable in that neighborhood. Maybe it would have been in the Village, but certainly not in that, neighborhood.

Janet: Irish Catholic.

Martin: Irish Catholic, yeah. so then, the Living Theater received the invitation to represent the United States in the Theatre de Nation in Paris in May of 1961. And you and I decided to go together. And that was our first, trip overseas. And we had to hurry to get.

Janet: Passports, and I had to work at Kelly Girls for a couple of months to get the money to half of my fare. And the Living Theater gave me the other half.

Martin: Oh, there you go.

Janet: So I was a Kelly Girl for a while, doing just odd office jobs here and there to save the money for that trip.

Martin: Yeah. And do you recall the trip we left from New York, on KLM Royal Dutch Airlines?

Janet: I think it was a prop plane.

Martin Sheen: It was a prop plane, yeah.

Janet: It took two years to get there, it was forever. Somebody had a bottle of something. I don’t know what it was, but they were passing it around the. And everybody took a little nip and went to sleep, I think. Yeah, yeah, it was, what you do.

Martin: So we landed in, Amsterdam and then got a flight to Rome. And we began the tour in Rome at the Paoli Theater that lives, in my memory very fondly with how you and I lived on $100 a week. And we had to use that for travel and food and lodgings. And, we actually stretched it out pretty well. We stayed in Pensione in, Italy and in, a cheap hotel in France. And the tour continued on to, Germany. We played in Berlin. A lot of talk at that time about the Wall. We left Berlin and we played in Frankfurt, Germany. In Grosser’s House.

Janet: I made my stage debut there.

Martin: Yeah, you did. One of the company fell out and you had to go on stage.

Janet: She went back To New York. And she had one line, I think, and I totally forgot it.

Martin: You and I were in the scene together.

Janet: Yep. And you guys just went right on. I’m like, oh, I guess it’s over.

Martin: The play was many loves. And the scene was about some young people on a picnic, as I recall. Yeah. And so I asked you, you were very nervous. And I said, no, just take this little flower and, just focus on that and you’ll be just fine. Well, you focused on it so well if you forgot your line.

Janet: When I realized that the scene was over. Okay, well, I didn’t have to say that.

Martin: And then we, the tour ended in Frankfurt, but we went to, a few other spots and ended up destitute. We were in Venice, and, we were dead broke. And so we borrowed money from the United States government. Do you remember that story?

Janet: Oh, yeah. I mean, we borrowed, what, $15 each.

Martin: Yeah. In order to get back to, New York.

Janet: We still owe interest on it. I think.

Martin: We worked our way back to Amsterdam and then came home. And In December of 1961, we decided to get married. And we were married at, St. Stephen’s Church on 28th street between 2nd and 3rd Avenue. We’ve been married, now since 61. We’re m. Neither one of us is.

Janet: A math whiz.

Bruce: 63.

Janet: I know.

Martin: This is our 63rd year of marriage. Yeah. So what do you got to say about that?

Janet: Who knew?

Martin: Who knew! So, Janet, my. My favorite thing about you is that you are always there. And, sometimes I take that for granted.

Janet: Yeah, I would agree with that.

Martin: Going to take a little break here, but I assure you there’s more to come. Stay tuned. And we’re back. Thanks for staying with us.

Hear now “Lotus” by Rabindranath Tagore.

On the day when the lotus bloomed, alas, my mind was straying, and I knew it not.
My basket was empty and the flower remained unheeded.
Only now and again a sadness fell upon me, and I started up from my dream and felt a sweet trace of a strange fragrance in the south wind.
That vague sweetness made my heart ache with longing and it seemed to me that is was the eager breath of the summer seeking for its completion.
I knew not then that it was so near, that it was mine, and that this perfect sweetness had blossomed in the depth of my own heart.

Rabindranath Tagore was born May 7, 1861, in Bengal, India. He was a poet, novelist, Writer, playwright, composer, philosopher, social reformer and painter of the Bengali Renaissance. His novels, stories, songs and essays speak to topics political, personal and spiritual. Tagore joined Mahatma Gandhi’s non violent movement advocating independence from Great Britain. Mostly known for his poetry, Tagore was awarded the Nobel Prize in 1917. Ramandranath Tagore died August 7, 1941. He was 80 years old.

Consider this from an unknown author. We are here to walk each other home.

On a lighter note.

“One Perfect Rose” from Dorothy Parker.

A single flow’r he sent me, since we met.
All tenderly his messenger he chose;
Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet—
One perfect rose.

I knew the language of the floweret;
“My fragile leaves,” it said, “his heart enclose.”
Love long has taken for his amulet
One perfect rose.

Why is it no one ever sent me yet

One perfect limousine, do you suppose?

Ah no, it’s always just my luck to get

One perfect rose.

Dorothy Parker was born Aug. 22, 1893. She was an American poet, writer, critic, wit and satirist based in New York. She was known for her caustic wisecracks and eye for 20th century urban foibles. Parker rose to acclaim both for her literary works published in magazines such as the New Yorker and and as a founding member of the Algonquin Roundtable. Dismissive of her own talents, she deplored her reputation as a wisecracker. Nevertheless, both her literary work and reputation for sharp wit has endured.

Consider a few of her famous quotes.

“The only dependable law of life. Everything is always worse than you thought it was going to be.” Or,

“If you want to know what God thinks about money, just look at the people he gives it to.”

And finally, “Time may be a healer, but it’s a lousy beautician.”

Dorothy Parker died on June 7, 1967. She was 73 years old.

Martin:

I invite you to delve further into the works of the poets I shared with you, and I hope you seek out writers and poets whose work speaks to your hearts and minds with the power to inspire your life. If you’ve enjoyed what you’ve heard here, please subscribe to my podcast, the Martin Sheen Podcast, with your host, yours truly, Martin Sheen. Of course, wherever you find your podcasts. Yeah, I have to say that you can find a complete list of the poets and titles of their poems that I’ve chosen at our website, themartensheenpodcast.com

I want to thank the people who make this podcast possible. Our producer and research assistant, Renee Estevez, who assures me that the Internet is a real thing and a safe place if not used off label. And our sound engineer and editor, Bruce Greenspan, the man behind these rich and seamless recordings. And to his dog Grace, our studio mascot, who snores in perfect pentameter.

And so, friends, we part with the prayer from Tagore.

Where the heart is without fear and the head is held high;

Where knowledge is free;

Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;

Where words come out from the depth of truth;

Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;

Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;

Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action—

Into that heaven of freedom (my Father) let our country awake. Amen

The Martin Sheen Podcast all rights reserved. No part of this podcast may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form without prior written consent of the author and TE Productions.

The poem Memory Deflection by Ramon Gerard Estevez, AKA Martin Sheen, is included here by granted copyright permission.