24 EVENTS:   Jan257 to 9 p.m. - Deerfield Poetry, open mike at The Lion Café, 463-7374, on Rt. 107,  Guest Host – “The Masked Avenger”  (Click here or 463-7226).   BIRTHDAYS:   John Vanbrugh    (1664 – 03/26/1726)      English architect, writer Click here Click here Click here Click here, 6th earl of Dorset (1637 or 8-1706 )  poet Click here Click here (1670- 1729), British comedic playwright and poet of the Restoration Age Click here Click here Frederick the Great, (1712 – Click here/1786) Prussian royalty Click here Pierre-Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais (1732 – Click here/1799) French dramatist musical composer Click here Click here E. T. A. Hoffman (1776-1822) German writer, composer, caricaturist, and painter Click here Vasily Surikov, Russian painter (Click here - 1916) Click here Click here   (1862 – Click here/1937)  US writer  1920 Pulitzer Prize Click here Click here Konstantin Bogaevsky, Russian painter  Click here-1943 Click here Ethel Turner, Australian author 1872 -1958 Click here Arthur A. (Arturo Alfonso),  Schomburg 1874. He was an African-American historian. http://www.aaregistry.org/historic_events/view/arthur-schomburg-meticulous-historian Henry King, American film director (Click here OR 8 - 1982) Click here Ernst Heinrich Heinkel, 1888 -Jan. 30, 1958 German designer and builder of the first rocket-powered aircraft Click here Hedwig Click here (1888 – 08/29/1960)   Austrian-US writer Click here Click here Click here Elizabeth Cotten 1893 African-American guitarist. Click here Albin Zollinger, Click here - Swiss poet/author (Der Halbe Mensch) Click here Eugen Roth, 1895 April 28, 1976 in Munich) German lyricist and poet   Thoughts By Eugen Roth       A man, sweat dripping from his brow earns his first bread and now knows how. From bread to ham the step is small and now the appetite wants all. A lobster sits upon his table expensive bubbly, he is able. The rich get to this upper stage arriving on their final page. They see that there is nothing else beyond the luxury of smells. He reminisces of the bread before he reaches it, drops dead. Note: This was inspired by Eugen Roth's Lebensleiter. It is a loose translation thereof.                                                      By Herbert Nehrlich   Click here C[atherine] L[ucille] Moore (1911) US, sci-fi author (Judgment Night) Click here Click here Click here Robert Motherwell  (1915 – 07/16/1991)   US artist Click here Click here Nora Beloff, 1919 - Russian-Jewish Click here. journalist Click here   Keith Douglas, 1920- June 6, 1944. Eng war poet Click here Click here                       How to Kill Under the parabola of a ball, a child turning into a man, I looked into the air too long. The ball fell in my hand, it sang in the closed fist: Open Open Behold a gift designed to kill. Now in my dial of glass appears the soldier who is going to die. He smiles, and moves about in ways his mother knows, habits of his. The wires touch his face: I cry Now. Death, like a familiar, hears and look, has made a man of dust of a man of flesh. This sorcery I do. Being damned, I am amused to see the centre of love diffused and the waves of love travel into vacancy. How easy it is to make a ghost. The weightless mosquito touches Her tiny shadow on the stone, and with how like, how infinite a lightness, man and shadow meet. They fuse. A shadow is a man when the mosquito death approaches.                                                                       by Keith Douglas Click here Georges Lautner, Click here - French director and screenwriter Click here Click here 1928 British zoologist, author, and artist Click here Neil Diamond   (1941 – )     US singer, songwriter  Click here Warren Zevon   (1947 – 09/07/2003)     US singer, songwriter Click here John Belushi    (1949 – 03/05/1982)      US comic, actor (SNL) Click here Benjamin Urrutia, 1950 -  Ecuadorian-born American writer Click here         PASSED   January 24th James Ralph, Amer/Brit political writer, 1762 Click here Click here David Graham Phillips, American journalist and novelist. 1867- 1911 Click here Thephilo Joaquim Teófilo Fernandes Braga Braga, Click here  Portuguese poet/politician Click here Felix Timmermans, Click here   writer/painter (Gift from St Nicholas) Click here Click here Ira Hayes, American World War II hero. 1923- Click here Ballad of Ira Hayes © Ira Hayes, Ira Hayes CHORUS: Call him drunken Ira Hayes He won't answer anymore Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian Nor the Marine that went to war Gather round me people there's a story I would tell About a brave young Indian you should remember well From the land of the Pima Indian A proud and noble band Who farmed the Phoenix valley in Arizona land Down the ditches for a thousand years The water grew Ira's peoples' crops 'Till the white man stole the water rights And the sparklin' water stopped Now Ira's folks were hungry And their land grew crops of weeds When war came, Ira volunteered And forgot the white man's greed CHORUS: Call him drunken Ira Hayes He won't answer anymore Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian Nor the Marine that went to war There they battled up Iwo Jima's hill, Two hundred and fifty men But only twenty-seven lived To walk back down again And when the fight was over And when Old Glory raised Among the men who held it high Was the Indian, Ira Hayes CHORUS: Call him drunken Ira Hayes He won't answer anymore Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian Nor the Marine that went to war Ira returned a hero Celebrated through the land He was wined and speeched and honored; Everybody shook his hand But he was just a Pima Indian No water, no crops, no chance At home nobody cared what Ira'd done And when did the Indians dance CHORUS: Call him drunken Ira Hayes He won't answer anymore Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian Nor the Marine that went to war Then Ira started drinkin' hard; Jail was often his home They'd let him raise the flag and lower it like you'd throw a dog a bone! He died drunk one mornin' Alone in the land he fought to save Two inches of water in a lonely ditch Was a grave for Ira Hayes CHORUS: Call him drunken Ira Hayes He won't answer anymore Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian Nor the Marine that went to war Yeah, call him drunken Ira Hayes But his land is just as dry And his ghost is lyin' thirsty In the ditch where Ira died                                                         written by  Peter LaFarge Click here Click here Click here  (Click here/1874 –1965)  British Prime Minister (41) Click here Click here Caresse Crosby, Mary Phelps Jacob (April 20, 1892- 1970), American patron of the arts, poet, publisher, and peace activist.  Click here Click here Click here Click here Click here Click here George Cukor, Click here  director Click here Click here  (Click here/1911 –1986)  US writer Click here Click here Click here  (Click here/1908 –1993)  US Supreme Court Click here Click here Victor Reinganum, Brit Click here and Click here 13 September 1907 - 1995 Click here Callum Alexander MacDonald, Click here   historian Click here     Peter Gzowski, Canadian broadcaster, writer and reporter 1934- 2002 Click here Click here Vladimir Savchenko, Ukrainian writer 1933-2005 Click here   SITES: Click here Click here Click here Click here Click here Click here Click here Click here     HISTORY: Click here - 1st games played in baseball's American League   Click here   1962 - Jackie Robinson is 1st Black elected to Baseball Hall of Fame    Click here                             BONUS POEM: Pigtail When all the women from the transport had their heads shaved four workers with brooms made from linden twigs swept and gathered up the hair Behind the clean glass lies the stiff hair of those gassed in the gas chambers there are pins and bone combs in this hair No light shines through it no breeze parts it no hand touches it nor rain nor lips In giant chests clusters the dried-out hair of those gassed and an ashen pigtail with a little ribbon pulled on at school by naughty boys   The Auschwitz Museum, 1948 Click here translated from the Polish by Joanna Trzeciak Click here