A Carl Sandburg-like Take on Mykonos

Jeff—Saturday

We just spent a grand month hidden away at my farm in the undiscovered paradise of Northwest New Jersey.

But now it’s time to return home to the anything but undiscovered paradise of Mykonos. It’s been an interesting summer for Mykonos, brought on by what I’d call a yin and yang relationship with a tourist press obsessed by the draw of its 24/7 lifestyle, and celebrities anxious to bask in the island’s notoriety. 

In the month that I’ve been away (no connection intended) the tourist press has not been particularly kind to the island, slamming it ways I’d characterize as part deserved, part jealousy, part schadenfreude, and part just plain piling on. 

I wanted to write something directly addressing that coverage, but decided what’s the use of barking at the press. Those who live by the press, die by the press. I’m just an observer, and so I have two observations to offer on Mykonos. The first is a documentary titled, “Mykonos: the other side,” as seen through the lens of two wonderfully talented filmmakers, Vasileios Billy Cotsis and Basil Genimahaliotis (yes, I appear in it).

The second is my bald-faced rip off parody of Carl Sandburg’s classic poem, Chicago.

One takes forty minutes, the other forty seconds.  Each though, in its own way, is intended to tell it like it is, as we all head merrily from summer into the fall.

So, here we go…sorry Mr. Sandburg.

MYKONOS

Hot Beaches for the World,

   Fool Maker, Stalker of Teat,

   Playground for Titans and the Nation's Great Earner;

   Balmy, lusty, thralling,

   Island of Big Boulders:

They tell me you are wicked and I believe them, for I have seen your late night genders

   offer the passions luring the willing.

And they tell me you are crooked and I answer: Yes, it is true I have seen the tax evader

   go free to shill again.

And they tell me you are tempting and my reply is: On the faces of those who come to

    play I have seen the marks of wanton wonder.

And having answered so I turn once more to those who sneer at my island, and I give

   them back the sneer and say to them:

Come and show me another place with lifted head singing so proud to be alive and loved

   and winning.

Flinging aside all your curses to toil in tending each visitor, here is a bright white island

   set vivid against ever blue niceties:

Proud of its role in providing distraction, to a world much in need of escape from true

   madness,

   Barebodied,

   Snorkeling,

   Wretching,

   Dancing,

   Partying, eating, sleeping,

Under the stars, remembering from youth, hard times filled with grief,

Under the terrible scars of destiny’s past poverty and haughty laughs,

Laughs now tossed about by ignorant strangers who’ve not suffered but love to prattle,

Bragging and laughing that in their wallets lay the pulse, and within big tips the heart of

   the people,

                   Laughing!

But who cares, for the balmy, lusty, thralling mood, that draws Youth full-throated and

   smiling to their island, has made them rich and proud to be Hot Beaches, Fool Maker, Stalker of Teat, Playground for Titans and Grand Earner to the Nation.

                                                                           *****

And for those of you who prefer the original version, here’s...

Chicago:

Hog Butcher for the World,

   Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat,

   Player with Railroads and the Nation's Freight Handler;

   Stormy, husky, brawling,

   City of the Big Shoulders:

They tell me you are wicked and I believe them, for I have seen your painted women

   under the gas lamps luring the farm boys.

And they tell me you are crooked and I answer: Yes, it is true I have seen the gunman kill

   and go free to kill again.

And they tell me you are brutal and my reply is: On the faces of women and children I

   have seen the marks of wanton hunger.

And having answered so I turn once more to those who sneer at this my city, and I give

   them back the sneer and say to them:

Come and show me another city with lifted head singing so proud to be alive and coarse

   and strong and cunning.

Flinging magnetic curses amid the toil of piling job on job, here is a tall bold slugger set

   vivid against the little soft cities;

Fierce as a dog with tongue lapping for action, cunning as a savage pitted against the

    wilderness,

   Bareheaded,

   Shoveling,

   Wrecking,

   Planning,

   Building, breaking, rebuilding,

Under the smoke, dust all over his mouth, laughing with white teeth,

Under the terrible burden of destiny laughing as a young man laughs,

Laughing even as an ignorant fighter laughs who has never lost a battle,

Bragging and laughing that under his wrist is the pulse, and under his ribs the heart of the

   people,

                   Laughing!

Laughing the stormy, husky, brawling laughter of Youth, half-naked, sweating, proud to

   be Hog Butcher, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with Railroads and Freight

   Handler to the Nation.

—Jeff