Philip Appleman’s
depiction of Indiana is tinged with nostalgia for his childhood
land met with the recognition that Indiana is suffering from a
technological
evolution which is destroying the beauty of the land. Appleman,
who was an English professor at Indiana University and is an enthusiast
of Darwinian evolution, has published several nonfiction books
on
evolutionary theory, three novels, and numerous volumes of poetry.
Appleman’s
works contain some of the most alluring descriptions of Indiana’s
environment in the 20th century. In the poem “October
15” Appleman describes the events of a “little Hoosier
town…on one of those maple-red / Indiana noons”:
The maple-bright Indiana
noon was the color of bonfires
and the color of brick schoolhouses
and cherries in Mason jars
and firecrackers
and sunburn
and maple trees gone blazing (27).
The poem celebrates the colors
of autumn through homely images relative to the affairs of
the Indiana of Appleman’s childhood. Appleman recounts “familiar
things” of an old-fashioned Indiana autumn—skipping children, “Model-T’s” and “rusty
Fords” in the streets, and “brick schoolhouses”—and
intermingles those memories with the emotions evoked by the season.
Likewise,
in the poem “To the Garbage Collectors in Bloomington, Indiana,
the First Pickup of the New Year” Appleman combines the image of
garbage collectors at dawn with naked maple trees against a January sunrise:
A half hour later, dawn comes edging over
Clark Street: layers of color, laid out like
a flattened rainbow—red, then yellow, green,
and over that the black-and-blue of night
still hanging on. Clark Street maples wave
their silhouettes against the red, and through
the twiggy trees, I see a solid chunk
of garbage truck, and stick-figures of men (29).
Appleman’s appreciation of the Indiana environment
rarely neglects the presence of the humanity that coexists with
nature. The value of nature is reflected
in its usefulness to humanity, and likewise, the value of humanity
is reflected in his treatment of nature. For example, in the poem “Nostalgie
de la Boue” Appleman
describes the harmonious relationship between the working person and
the land or “mud” of Noble
County:
We go back a long time together,
Hoosiers and mud: to devil summers
on Noble County farms, and weariness
no city work ever shared
with a back, the ache in our marrow dissolving
to memories of mosses, ferns,
protozoans in the soup
of ancestral mud: all
in our bones, out there in that little town (6-7).
The mud of the land is described as being in the
bones of the farmer, but the poem continues to describe the harm
of civilization that is “superimposed” on
the mud:
Their civilization, superimposed
on the Indiana territory…
brittle streets laid over first
with gravel, then with bricks,
concrete, asphalt—generations
of style, paving over the mud (7).
Humanity’s mere presence proves a paradox to the value of the environment—how
use of the land both cherishes and devalues nature. On one hand, by using the
land, the land becomes part of humanity, “in our bones;” however,
humanity is also invading the land like “croquet balls / lumping along
a rough back yard / toward the tragedy of / chrysanthemums.”
Appleman’s appreciation of Darwin and the evolutionary
theory shapes his bleak outlook on Indiana’s contemporary
environment in the 21st century. The “maple-bright Indiana” of
Appleman’s childhood
is being forgotten in the onset of deforestation,
pollution, and urban
sprawl.
In the novel, Shame
the Devil, Appleman describes the toll of
these environmental issues through the eyes of Frank, a young
man driving
through Ash Garden,
Indiana:
Frank played the Stringray past a double row of
ancient ash trees that no doubt gave the town its name, past
the tallow
blinkers
of auto salesrooms
and used-car
lots, past the stone gates of a public park, where bulldozers
were uprooting trees, past the concrete banks of a river,
foamy as beer,
past a coal-burning
power plant, its smoke-stacks pumping a brown odor into
the thickening sky
(3-4).
Appleman
was aware of the influence of cities
like Chicago and New York, the proclaimed
industrial and cultural centers
of America
that
send the
message of a fast-paced urban lifestyle
across the country. In Appleman’s
writing, Indiana is an oasis surrounded
by the corruption of an urban
world slowly creeping
in on the placid Indiana environment.
The poem “Train Whistles” uses
trains as a symbol to warn of the
influence of urban centers:
They’d howl us out of childhood dreams
like old dogs mad at the moon,
and I’d lie awake in the summer dark,
thinking the sounds of night
are messages of death,
and feeling the rails that split the state,
projecting visions of New York,
Chicago, necessary evils
for the ends of Indiana roads;
in midnight eyelids I could see
the twinkling cars, portable
fairylands, with names
like Golden West and Silver City,
rattling through the corn fields, past
our shadowy elms and lacy
spindled porches, carrying
tired men home to lonely women
in Fort Wayne, South Bend,
Kendallville (52).
The poem “Memo to the 21st Century” warns of the frequent destruction
of the environment, claiming that “we are moving out now, scraping the
world smooth”:
Towns fingered out to country once,
where brown-eyed daisies waved a fringe on orchards
and cattle munched at clover, and
fishermen sat in rowboats and were silent,
and on gravel roads, boys and girls
stopped their cars and felt the moon and touched,
and the quiet moments ringed and focused
lakes moon flowers.
That is how it was in Indiana.
But we are moving out now,
scraping the world smooth where apples blossomed,
paving it over for cars. In the spring before the clover
goes purple,
we mean to scrape the hayfield, and
next year the hickory woods:
we are pushing on, our giant diesels snarling,
and I think of you, the billions of you, wrapped
in your twenty-first century concrete,
and I want to call to you, to let you know
that if you dig down,
down past wires and pipes
and sewers and subways, you will find
a crumbly stuff called earth. Listen:
in Indiana once, things grew in it (3).
Appleman begins the poem by reminding Hoosiers of
the value in the beauty of the Indiana environment, and then warns
of the
urban sprawl and deforestation caused by the outward-moving cities taking over what is left
of the rural areas.
By “moving out” and “pushing on” we are losing our connection
with the land, the “mud…in our bones,” instead to be “wrapped
/ in your twenty-first century concrete.” Humanity is devaluing the land,
and in the process, devaluing itself.
--HAJ
Sources: Appleman,
Philip. Darwin’s Ark. Bloomington:
Indiana UP, 1984.
---. Open Doorways. New
York: Norton, 1976.
---. Shame the Devil. New
York: Crown, 1981.
---. Summer Love and Surf. Nashville:
Vanderbilt UP, 1968.
Images:
Appleman, Philip. New
and selected poems, 1956-1996. Fayetteville : University
of Arkansas Press, 1996. Cover Image.
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