9/20/2006

Smelt...

At some point during high school my friends came under the impression that I was obsessed with smelt. We were (and are) strange people so it didn't strike me as unusual at the time. They would kid me about it. I have no idea why. It is a mystery just like how I got my nickname. To this day I have never fished for smelt, eaten smelt, or seen a smelt in person. I don't even say, "Whoever smelt it, dealt it." I decided not to fight this weird label and instead embraced it. I pretended that smelt were the greatest creatures on the planet. In my creative writing class I even did a series of smelt poetry. I can only remember one:

Oh little smelt

You swim so sweetly
Little do you know
You will soon be meatly


Am I the next Emily Dickinson or what?

6 comments:

Amy said...

What.

Frank Sirmarco said...

I always loved the use of 'meatly'.

Not really a word, but it definitely fits the rhythm of the poem.

Flannery Alden said...

I didn't know you're a poet, though I'm not surprised. Expect an invitation soon...

GETkristiLOVE said...

As it turns out, I am deeply connected with smelt and monkey balls myself - the coat of arms on my mother's side proudly displays smelt on the shield because my descendants were fisherman from an island off the south of France. Also, I love masago sushi (smelt eggs). And my hockey team is called the Ice Monkeys so anytime someone makes a good play, it's referred to as "monkey balls!" Any chance that's where your nickname came from?

vikkitikkitavi said...

Kristi: Mom's family is actually from a fishing village on the Seine on the northern shore of France. You're to be excused from knowing, since you never lived in Chicago, that the smelt is a northern fish.

Chris: When the uncle that was researching our coat of arms started to explain to me what a smelt was, I stopped him and said "I live in Chicago, dude, I'm familiar with smelt."

My boss there used to do the whole "smelt run" thing. Eat 'em whole. Crunchy goodness, apparently.

Grant Miller said...

I find your poem sentimental and lacking pathos. No offense or anything.