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Meet Eatonville's "First Ever" Poet Laureate, Emily Moore


                                                                    (photo by Peg Moore)

     October 31, 2009 - by Dixie A. Walter: Not many small towns can boast of having a genuine Poet Laureate, but Eatonville can. Emily Moore, daughter of Peg and Tom, was awarded the title recently. This lovely and talented young woman graduated from Eatonville High School  in June and is now attending school at Willamette University in Salem, Oregon where she is majoring in music "...with an intended double-minor in either literature and philosophy." Emily is not only a prodigious writer of poetry and prose she also writes songs.
    And she is a musician as well. Emily applied for, and received, the Anne K. Haynes Scholarship this year for excellence in writing. A letter to the scholarship committee written by EHS teacher Weston Lucas states in part, "...the true secret to Emily's success lies in her hidden talents as a concert pianist. Emily is an accomplished musician who is recognized by the National Piano Player's Guild, The Seattle Young Artists Music Festival and the Washington Music Educator's Association for her unparalleled talent at the piano."
    In her "Personal Statement" for the scholarship Emily candidly explains how her life changed with the death of her cousin, Abby, when Emily was a freshman. She describes a metamorphosis from being a workaholic at 15 to learning how enjoyable her life can be. Now, instead of striving for perfection Emily says, "I'm still busy, happily plugged into an array of groups, hobbies and budding friendships. The difference now is that I take things in stride; anything I do, I do now out of an interest in it rather than out of panicked attempts to meet a standard. I play piano with passion because I love it; I read to grow, and I love that also...Perhaps that's the whole point of it: for me to enjoy my life and become who I am at my core, it's not about chasing after dawn and battling the life out of day (ending up dog-tired by sundown): who I am and how I live has become enjoyable because I let a happy present build a (hopefully) happy future.
   "I think that now, out of all the stages of the evolution of my self, is the time I'd pinpoint as the  most enjoyable  and meaningful of my life. This is because I have given myself permission to enjoy it instead of constantly fretting about the numbers and activities that supposedly represent my potential. No, I don't have a 4.0 GPA - or an ulcer. I love my life because I let the little details work themselves out without them playing too much on my emotions. I owe that to the lesson Abby's death showed me, to treat life not as a job or a to-do list, but as the gift it is. I have a bright future - I've been building toward it for years - now I'm ready for it. Loving the present, it turns out, was the secret ingredient all along."

Finding What Makes Her Happy...


     Young Emily's thoughtful message rings true for everyone. Finding what makes her happy also includes helping others. As her former teacher writes, "Outside of the classroom, Emily's community involvement demonstrates her genuine desire to improve the condition of whatever setting she is in. Her global awareness and work ethic make her a true philanthropist who effectively advocates for those in her community in need of assistance or a voice. To date [June 2009] Emily has logged over 260 hours of community service with organizations such as the American Cancer Society, Mount Rainier National Park, the Student Ambassador's Program, the Lion's Club and her own church youth group...it is amazing to consider that Emily has found the time to find gainful employment, working as a landscape artist, babysitter and most recently the Flood Restoration and Revegetation Crew at Mount Rainier.
     "Emily's attitude toward education has earned her countless honors and awards for her academic abilities. Emily was a member of the National Junior Honor Society and was inducted into the National Honor Society in October 2006. She has received varsity academic letters, nominations for prestigious opportunities such as National Youth Leadership Forum on Medicine, and received the All-American Scholar Honor Roll Award from the United States Achievement Academy in 2007." 

Now Emily is Our "First Ever" Poet Laureate

     During the build up to Eatonville's Centennial Nancy Iams, proprietor of the Holly Hut, suggested a Poet Laureate contest. There were 16 entries and Emily Moore's poem "Hometown" was selected for first place by judges Catherine Walkinshaw and Margit Thorvaldson, a retired English teacher.
     Emily said she was "honored" to be Eatonville's Poet Laureate and is someone who has the capability to carry out the duties of that position. What is a Poet Laureate and what does "Laureate" mean? Poet Laureates date back centuries to England when royalty appointed "versifiers" to compose poems for special occasions, often their own birthdays and achievements. The word "laureate" stems from the Latin "laureatus." In ancient times Greeks and Romans crowned successful people with a laurel wreath.
     Eatonville won't require Emily to wear a laurel wreath but she will receive one of the beautiful silver and gold Centennial Commemorative Coins. Second prize, a silver coin, was awarded to Paul Treyz for his poem "Eatonville, a Town That is Blessed." Third prize, a bronze coin, goes to an anonymous poet for the entry "Bad Poetry." Honorable Mentions go to Annelise Litzenberger for her entry, "Eatonville, Our Town," and Darian Trimble for his poem "Mighty Eatonville."
     Read Emily's winning entry below:

Hometown

By Emily Moore

And like a hometown, fog reminds us
Of the textures of driving on the back-road in -
The one laced in mist and lined by ditches
And even I, the Independent, have missed
And will miss and will return.

I never thought I’d see the day
That I’d breathe in the fog, thick as asthma,
And announce that I wanted to return.
The hills, creeks, smiles are just a bit too much,
And remind and repine and drive me home.

And like a hometown, fog can drive us
Drive us outward, drive us gone-
And we escape like thieves with glinting futures
In our tight-lipped sacks, swearing
Never to return

But creatures of habit that we are,
The same fog follows soft like whispers,
And the sound alerts our open ears,
And we turn, and hear, and remember,

And like a hometown, fog reminds us
Of the textures of driving on the back-road in -
The one laced in mist and lined by ditches
And Even I, the Independent, have missed
And will miss – and will return.


 

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