When I reached the second grade at Lincoln School, I began to win all of the spelling bees. Indeed, Lincoln School hadn’t seen anything like it before nor has it seen anything like it since.
But there was a problem and her name was Raylene Poe. I privately called her “Rosy Poesy” and she sat two seats in front and across the aisle from me.
It didn’t matter that I liked baseball and marbles and snowball fights and fishing like just about any other kid in class of my gender because mostly what I liked was recess and a good game of “chase” where I could almost catch her. The thing was, she was a couple of inches taller than me and that was mostly legs. She could outrun anybody.
She also had long curls that cascaded to just below her shoulders and her breath was a pure mixture of grape cool-aid, Red Hots and flour paste. And, of course, the spelling part was just to impress her. In all the other classes what I did mostly was dream.
My favorite of my two favorite dreams was where Rosy Poesy and I were married and had two children and a bicycle and we lived next to a baseball field where I played for the Brooklyn Dodgers and hit nothing but home runs and laid down really, really successful bunts. In the other one I dreamed that she would come over to my house so that we could build highways together in the dirt under our big elm tree. We would use my favorite “earth moving” equipment which consisted solely of a six inch piece off the end of a 2”x4” and a potato. Of course, I would let her use the 2”x4” because it made the best highways.
All this dreaming, however, meant that my arithmetic was horrible, my singing was worse, and my “cursive” suffered so much that the teacher made me stay after school and make little “o”s and then big “O”s in long straight lines and she watched to see that my elbow never touched the desk. But I shined in spelling class.
Then, on the very last day of that very same class, I was sitting there just looking at the back of her head when she turned around in her seat, gave me her best second-grader Jezebel smile, lifted her foot towards me and there on the sole of her shoe was printed “RP+RS”. I haven’t been able to spell since.
My guess is that Forrest Fenn had a similar experience only it was in “counting class” and if you want to know why I believe this, follow along as I highlight the nine clues in his now famous poem (page 132 in The Thrill of the Chase) in which he tells us just what we have to do to find his treasure.
As I have gone alone in there
And with my treasures bold,
I can keep my secret where,
And hint of riches new and old.
Begin it where warm waters halt
And take it in the canyon down,
Not far, but too far to walk.
Put in below the home of Brown.
From there it’s no place for the meek,
The end is ever drawing nigh;
There’ll be no paddle up your creek,
Just heavy loads and water high.
If you’ve been wise and found the blaze,
Look quickly down, your quest to cease,
But tarry scant with marvel gaze,
Just take the chest and go in peace.
So why is it that I must go
And leave my trove for all to seek?
The answers I already know,
I’ve done it tired, and now I’m weak.
So hear me all and listen good,
Your effort will be worth the cold.
If you are brave and in the wood
I give you title to the gold.
So there it is; a poem with nine clues except that, if you have been paying attention, you already know that there are 15 clues—not nine.
What, then, does this mean? Either Mr. Fenn had a similar experience as mine only in his “counting class” and there really are 15 clues or, he has pulled another Fensterism and we now must figure out just which of the 15 are the real nine. Going on a treasure hunt with Forrest Fenn seems always to be interesting; but it will never be easy.
Enjoy,
r/
Richard, you couldn’t count the clues correctly even if the lights were on. Maybe you should stick with Rosey Poesy and baseball. But since you are so eager I’ll give you some help. When you go out looking for the treasure chest in this weather please take a warm coat, a wool face mask, sealskin mucklucks and a pint of wodka, all to keep you warm. f
Aww, Forrest. You know you’re my hero. Look at it this way: there wasn’t a mountain man who could ever spell worth a damn. But all of them knew exactly how many mules they owned and how many plews they had at the end of the season. They could also outwit pretty much any man or beast they had a mind to. You may be a semi-retired mountain man, but I’ve no doubt that you can still count; it’s your wily side that keeps me up at night.
lol.
I got stuck at the wording in the first line.
“As I have g one a l one in there”
Sort of ran into a crossroads after that, and it’s been downhill since then.
Good luck and thanks for the blogs.
It would really be terrible if those mountain men didn’t have a lot of plews at the end of summer. I love that word and must remember to ask my granddaughter what it means.
Plews, clues–maybe they’re the same thing; maybe not.
I’m sorry”Astree.” I think it’s a very successful first line. I don’t think it’s a real clue though. Rather it seems a way to get people to read the rest of the poem even if they don’t know its context. There is no way that someone who reads that first line is not going to read the second. I have a big question mark by it because there are at least nine others in the poem that seem much more important. Even “plew” is a better clue than “…in there.” Stay tuned. We are going to have to gang up on FF. He may claim to be tired but I don’t believe it for a second.
I never knew a Mountain Man chasing after plews – a very interesting word, Richard, which creates a unique, visual pictograph of the mind’s eye .. “alone in there” IS an important clew – as EVERY LINE in any poem is important to the whole shebang. The structure of all (great) poetry – and grand storytelling throughout the aeons – requires every line – and every spoken word – to have Meaningful Significance to the over-arching theme of the drama being recited ..
Ha! Not just muckalucks, Richard – sealskin muckalucks and a Pint Of Wodka .. Why? Because he’s a Shortstop ..
You’re probably right about that first line, Richard. Just thought it was interesting. From time to time, after working at it for a while, I will go back and attempt to renumber the clues to 9 – troublesome, for sure. (heh, “As I have gone alo nein in there”. … anyway…).
I had also dropped you a comment about the dropcaps, back in your “intuition” blog.
Sometimes, stepping back and looking at the overall poem and book – just what is a “chase” anyway? And what is the “title” of the poem? “I give you title to the gold”.
I changed some information in the form below, It hink this should sign with my name.
Be Well,
Rob
Hi Rob. Thanks for the clarification. There for a while I thought “Rosy Poesy” might be stalking me. Sorry about not responding to your earlier comment. My computer settled down for a long winter’s nap and I just now got it to wake back up. I don’t think you will find much trying to unscramble the drop caps although there is a lot of software on the web that will help if you want to go down that road.
Best wishes, r/
Hi Richard,
“on the sole of her shoe was printed “RP+RS”” – got me a bit nervous, as my initials are RP. :(. But, I know what you mean, the early memories can mean so much.
The first four dropcaps spell “A WIN” – thought that was curious, if not intentional.
I’ll check in later. Trying to work on this, but lots else on-going.
Seasons Greeting to you, and all reading this.
Rob
I think the biggest clue is not among your 15, and I’m not telling what it is, but it is the motivation for my next trip.
Have a great trip. Keep all your expense receipts so you can take them off of your income tax.
15 clues?
Now Forrest, you know that I believe that there are only nine real clues. The 15 are possible clues although I am now thinking that there are really 16 possible clues of which only nine are the real ones but I am not telling what number 16 is. Will it never end?
Care to name the clues? If you really believed that you’d go get the treasure. f
Still don’t have the correct nine or I would go pick up the treasure. You are a tough nut to crack.
Ply Forrest with pineapple pies. Im working on a secret recipe.
Oh Man, why didn’t I think of this. Oh wait, I did already. He swore off of them years ago. It’s all apple juice now.
it,s down from the dam home of the brown is fish to far to walk and is the cold worth is meaning the water
I counted 9 clues. But then again, I am a poet.
And what are the nine clues that a poet should find (I am a forester and really need to know).
whew what a mess my brain is boiling got out of the warm water
Interesting, my last name is Craciun, first name Liviu.
Mr. Fenn, Am I allowed to ask (I guess I just will go on and ask it anyway), Would it be appropriate to ask if BB is something I would need to begin..and, conversely, do I need worry about swinging? On another note: I found your story, titled ‘My War For Me’. I passed it on to my students (with a sub-story about you btw). It changed me. Thanks.
that is such a beautiful little frog, just like the ones aroud the pool in summer here. funny, they’re opportunistic tree frogs.
Mr. Fenn,
We have spoken a few times in the past. This is NOT a brown nosing attempt.
I am thoroughly impressed with your life’s success through your determination.
Yes, I hope to find the gold. That was your challenge and I love that type of thing. But above all of that, I wish that I could have been a friend like Donnie was, for I would have been able to experience the life style of adventure as you have, though maybe not to the full extent that you have. But, your friendship and knowing you as a friend is the REAL treasure.
No one ever agrees on everything but as friends that is allowed without reprisal . Your past is my dream and my past is someone else’s dream. We are never truly satisfied with EVERY facet of ones life and there will always be the longing for that which is beyond our reach. I hope that you enjoyed the poem that I sent you, and thanks on the advice of the dome head square shank tacks that I asked you about. Whether I am your friend to you matters not, but you are mine and a hero to my family in many ways. Thanks again…. Ted Nicol