{"product_id":"dreams-of-the-presidents-isbn-9781556437502","title":"Dreams of the Presidents","description":"The stuff of dreams—hopes, fears, and longings—represents universal subjects to which everyone can relate. Dreams take on a new cultural currency in this collection of dream-poems, one for each American president. Exploring power, as well as its limits and possibilities, linguistics instructor Charles Barasch plays no favorites, making light of the sense of entitlement and self-importance that afflicts too many politicians. Fun to read, humorous, and laced with events of historical interest, each poem gives a dose of insight into the president’s life and his relationships with others, including his family, allies, and rivals. Where contemporary people or important references to American history—such as slavery and the Indian wars—occur, notes explain and contextualize them within the poem’s meaning. Published during an election year, this book offers a well-timed look at politicians, some much-needed laughs at leaders who take themselves too seriously, and a fun platform from which readers can start to explore the lives of those who, for better or worse, have led America.Foreword XIII\u003cbr\u003eGeorge Washington 1\u003cbr\u003eJohn Adams 2\u003cbr\u003eThomas Jefferson 4\u003cbr\u003eJames Madison 6\u003cbr\u003eJames Monroe 8\u003cbr\u003eJohn Quincy Adams 10\u003cbr\u003eAndrew Jackson 12\u003cbr\u003eMartin Van Buren 15\u003cbr\u003eWilliam Henry Harrison 17\u003cbr\u003eJohn Tyler 18\u003cbr\u003eJames Polk 20\u003cbr\u003eZachary Taylor 23\u003cbr\u003eMillard Fillmore 25\u003cbr\u003eFranklin Pierce 27\u003cbr\u003eJames Buchanan 29\u003cbr\u003eAbraham Lincoln 31\u003cbr\u003eAndrew Johnson 33\u003cbr\u003eUlysses Grant 34\u003cbr\u003eRutherford Hayes 36\u003cbr\u003eJames Garfield 39\u003cbr\u003eChester Arthur 41\u003cbr\u003eGrover Cleveland 43\u003cbr\u003eBenjamin Harrison 45\u003cbr\u003eWilliam McKinley 47\u003cbr\u003eTheodore Roosevelt 49\u003cbr\u003eWilliam Taft 51\u003cbr\u003eWoodrow Wilson 53\u003cbr\u003eWarren Harding 56\u003cbr\u003eCalvin Coolidge 58\u003cbr\u003eHerbert Hoover 60\u003cbr\u003eFranklin Roosevelt 62\u003cbr\u003eHarry Truman 65\u003cbr\u003eDwight Eisenhower 67\u003cbr\u003eJohn Kennedy 70\u003cbr\u003eLyndon Johnson 72\u003cbr\u003eRichard Nixon 74\u003cbr\u003eGerald Ford 76\u003cbr\u003eJimmy Carter 78\u003cbr\u003eRonald Reagan 80\u003cbr\u003eGeorge H.W. Bush 82\u003cbr\u003eBill Clinton 84\u003cbr\u003eGeorge W. Bush 86\u003cbr\u003eName Index 87\u003cbr\u003eAbout the Author 93“With the grueling neverending election finally behind us, Charles Barasch’s magnificent book lets loose one last broadside at the insane zoo that is American politics. The conceit is simple: 42 poems, one for each president, in the form of a possible dream that president might have. The result is surreal, funny and even poignant at times.”\u003cbr\u003e—Dan Szczesny, \u003ci\u003eHippo Manchester\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“The dreams drift lazily over the harder prose of the footnotes, forming a world saturated with sexual imagery and guilt about slavery and imperialism. Melancholic Presidents wander the White House hallways, grieving over dead children and spouses. Lillian Gish and Marilyn Monroe, who were half ghosts already, rub against the dreams’ surfaces. The poems are a delicious smoke curling around the Presidents; something like the fantasy air around the ad men on TV drama \u003ci\u003eMad Men\u003c\/i\u003e, which could’ve easily been Barasch’s title.”\u003cbr\u003e—Allen Shelton, \u003ci\u003ePASTE\u003c\/i\u003e Magazine\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"None of the dreams in \u003ci\u003eDreams of the Presidents \u003c\/i\u003eis real. But they're a brilliant concoction. And if we are ever to come to terms with the exaggerated importance we have assigned to our presidents, we will have to see these men (and women) as they are, not larger than life, but sized appropriately—and as human and flawed and brilliant and scarred as each of us.\"\u003cbr\u003e—Nat Frothingham, \u003ci\u003eThe Bridge\u003c\/i\u003eCharles Barasch’s poems have been published in many literary and general-interest magazines, as well as in the anthology \u003ci\u003eBaseball, I Gave You All the Best Years of My Life. \u003c\/i\u003eHe has created crossword puzzles for the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times, \u003c\/i\u003ethe \u003ci\u003eWashington Post, \u003c\/i\u003eand other major publications. A linguistics instructor at the University of Vermont and a speech pathologist working with children, he lives in Plainfield, VT.\u003cb\u003eGeorge H.W. Bush’s Dream\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI’m flying a mission over the Pacific,\u003cbr\u003ethe water still as a summer pond.\u003cbr\u003eWith no target in sight,\u003cbr\u003eI do some rolls,\u003cbr\u003esome loop-de-loops.\u003cbr\u003eI feel like I’m fox-trotting\u003cbr\u003ewith Barbara, the wind her fingers\u003cbr\u003ein my hair. I guide the plane\u003cbr\u003ejust like I lead her, a promenade,\u003cbr\u003ea little twirl and dip.\u003cbr\u003eA biplane is on my tail,\u003cbr\u003eSaddam in the cockpit like he wants\u003cbr\u003eto cut in, and I try a dive,\u003cbr\u003ebut he’s still crowding me, so I pull my ‘chute\u003cbr\u003eand drift down over Washington,\u003cbr\u003epast the monuments and the pool,\u003cbr\u003eonto the White House lawn.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA carrier pigeon wings\u003cbr\u003einto the Oval Office and becomes Dan Quayle\u003cbr\u003ewith a note from Greenspan to raise taxes.\u003cbr\u003eI scream, “Can’t anyone read my lips?”\u003cbr\u003eand Barbara comes running in\u003cbr\u003esaying something about Georgie\u003cbr\u003esniffing cocaine again, and I feel\u003cbr\u003elike being somewhere else and hop\u003cbr\u003eback in the plane, pull on the throttle and we’re up\u003cbr\u003ein the air again. I get Saddam\u003cbr\u003ein my sights, but remember “kinder\u003cbr\u003eand gentler” and bring the plane in.\u003cbr\u003eSaddam and I do a hot tango\u003cbr\u003eon the tarmac, and I let him lead.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eGeorge H. Bush (1989—1993)\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBush enlisted on his eighteenth birthday and, ten months later, became the U.S. Navy’s youngest pilot. He flew fifty-eight combat missions in World War II. In his nomination acceptance speech, Bush said, “Read my lips: no new taxes.” Two years later he agreed to a budgetary compromise with Congress raising taxes. Bush also called for a “kinder, gentler” nation when nominated and repeated these words in his inaugural address.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eBill Clinton’s Dream\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI beam when Rabin and Arafat shake hands\u003cbr\u003eacross a wooden table and, for the cameras,\u003cbr\u003eswap headgear. A star flares, a sign\u003cbr\u003eof peace, then hurtles toward us,\u003cbr\u003ebecomes a gavel that smashes\u003cbr\u003elike a wrecking ball into the table,\u003cbr\u003eas a robed judge — I can’t tell who,\u003cbr\u003emaybe God, maybe Clarence Thomas —\u003cbr\u003eintones my name from a towering pulpit.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThen I’m back in Hope, a young man\u003cbr\u003epushing a stroller, holding Hillary’s hand.\u003cbr\u003eWe enter a thick woods.\u003cbr\u003eI run ahead, plunge deep\u003cbr\u003einto the forest, stumble through brush\u003cbr\u003eand over fallen logs. I’m lost.\u003cbr\u003eI see a faint glow in the cedars\u003cbr\u003eand think I’m in a fairy tale,\u003cbr\u003eit must be Grandma’s cottage.\u003cbr\u003eI imagine Newt Gingrich\u003cbr\u003ehas devoured her and waits\u003cbr\u003efor me, ready to pounce.\u003cbr\u003eBut it’s the White House,\u003cbr\u003eand tourists jam the main entrance,\u003cbr\u003eso I duck around back,\u003cbr\u003eopen the door to a tavern\u003cbr\u003efilled with smoke and music.\u003cbr\u003eI get my sax to jam\u003cbr\u003ewith Springsteen on stage,\u003cbr\u003ebut first sit at the bar,\u003cbr\u003ebuy a scotch for the woman\u003cbr\u003eon the next stool. When she turns\u003cbr\u003eto me her mouth opens\u003cbr\u003ewide as if to scream. I put the sax\u003cbr\u003ein and she plays a slow number.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eBill Clinton (1993—2001)\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn 1993 Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin and Palestinian leader Yasser Arafat signed a peace agreement on the White House lawn and, with Clinton looking on, publicly shook hands for the first time.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eGeorge W. Bush’s Dream\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAir Force One takes off,\u003cbr\u003ebanks low between buildings,\u003cbr\u003edown alleyways, through tunnels,\u003cbr\u003estretching and bending impossibly\u003cbr\u003elike in a cartoon. I’m having fun\u003cbr\u003ebut see there’s no pilot\u003cbr\u003eand climb over mounds of naked bodies,\u003cbr\u003esevered heads. I’m afraid\u003cbr\u003eI’ll be sucked under, but crawl\u003cbr\u003eto the cockpit and grab the wheel.\u003cbr\u003eI realize I don’t know how to fly,\u003cbr\u003eand when the White House looms ahead,\u003cbr\u003eI wish my father were here.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eGeorge W. Bush (2001— )\u003c\/b\u003e","brand":"North Atlantic Books","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":44886708027621,"sku":"NP9781556437502","price":12.95,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781556437502.jpg?v=1767725704","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/dreams-of-the-presidents-isbn-9781556437502","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}