Joseph G Blake

Brenda

That honor went to me in another class. I will not say I bested him but I was the staunch Republican and Mr Mohney (as I recall it) claimed to be a Rockefeller Republican. Or so he told me once. He was certainly on the liberal side of issues. And it was 63 and 64 and many of us were Goldwater fans as was then Hillary Rodham.

Sometimes the class did "team teaching" and we had several civics teachers. I recall two older teachers were on the GOP side but right now I do not recall their names. 

Of course that was the crossover era where so much changed after 1964 because of the war, civil rights and the sexual revolution. 

I am still a stalwart GOP albeit not for Trump because of his exressed views about Russia, Putin, Nato,and trade ( see both Ronert Gates and Bret Stephens recent columns in the WSJ). I want to apologize because I may have opened the box too far. I meant to comment on how Trump expressed himself relative to what we would have learned as appropriate ways to be speak for clarity and understanding. Someone had suggested that the press misrepresented what he said, In any event, to those who are annoyed, let me apologize for instigating it.

Thanks

Joe

Joseph G Blake

If like me you enjoy watching other people bake wonderful treats, then you may enjoy this LA Times column about the BBC/PBS show "The Great British Baking Show." The author is y daughter but its a fun piece and informative.

http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/tv/la-et-st-great-british-baking-show-mary-berry-leaving-20160922-snap-story.html

Dana Shepard (Treister)

Brenda et al~

To those of you who know me, it will not surprise you that I acutally HAVE my original graded copy of the senior year American Problems Term Paper (for Mr. Mohney) of which Brenda and I were the co- authors:  "The Problem of the Pigeon in America Today as These Renowned Experts See It  --or -- A Bird in the Museum Case is Worth Two in the Air" ! 

Our (tongue-in-cheek) "Dedication" reads, "Througout this year it has been observed that our dear teacher, Mr. Robert Mohney, has a kind and passionate heart.  Such a person can be interested only in the good of the world, and people interested in the good of the world are deeply concerned about the distressing problem of birds. Therefore, it is with the utmost sincerity that we dedicate this theses to the Birdman of Shaker Heights, Robert "Meadowlark" Mohney."

Alas, Mr. Mohney lacked the intellect and/or perspective to appreciate our wit and humor, and did not even properly value our hand-drawn illustrations...  His comment on our drawing of Lyndon Johnson feeding popcorn to pigeons while he was campaigning in Public Square?  "DISGUSTING - JOHNSON IS THE GREATEST!!!"

And we got an "F"!  But -- we were graduating, we were accepted to college, and -- it was worth it!!

Thanks for the memories...

Betsy Dennis (Frank)

Dana, That is fabulous!! What a great paper to keep. Betsy

Margery Lynn Perlberg (Rapport)

I cannot believe that you have that paper, Dana.  On second thought, I can believe it!

Joseph G Blake

In talking about Mr Mohney someone mentioned Asa Voak's exchanges with him. I kept up with Asa until we moved to the UK in 1979. I recall doing early morning runs with him in the winter of 75 down to Shaker Square and back.

But I lost touch after we moved. I know he had a very rough period after that. He was married to Martha Barry who later married Jim Horsburgh. Both of them are gone now. But does anyone know where Asa is? I have tried to find him but alas no luck.

Joseph G Blake

When George Divocky suggested reading "Crooked River Burning", I did. It included excellent essays about events and personalities of the period 1948 to 1968 around a fictional story about an Irish Catholic girl who lived on South Park. Her father was a ND grad and Chairman of the County Democrats. The author based that on Ray T Miller who was all of those things.

The one event that still sticks in memory is the Shepherd Murder Case in 1954. Clearly the Cleveland Press and PD had a field day with the lurid details. But I also grew up in a house of adults who openly discussed it despite the presence of their 8 year old sibling or son. I guess they thought I was precocious or not there. In any event I recall hearing about wife swapping and keys in a hat. I had no idea what any of that was but knew from the scowl on my grandmother's face that it was not good. 

Of course my grandmother's cousin was the murder victim of the year in 1919. Very lurid case because he was the other man who was killed by the husband. The husband was found innocent by a jury of 12 men. I can add the New York Times covered the case as they did in 1954. I guess that explains Gramma's scowls. 

I still recall sitting on the porch playing scrabble with my mother when I first heard the news about Marilyn Shepherd's death. 

Brenda Siegel (Cohen)

Dana, Joe,

Memories indeed.  I thought the "team teaching" approach had potential but they failed to execute.  And they were so proud of it, patting themselves on the back over and over, touting it to the parents on Parents' Night.  American Problems was probably the weakest high school course I experienced, whether it was the subject matter, the team teaching approach or my being ready to venture forth into the big world...could have been any or all of these reasons.

"Alas, Mr. Mohney lacked the intellect and/or perspective to appreciate our wit and humor, and did not even properly value our hand-drawn illustrations..." -- got that right.  I thought he was the weakest link of the team but I was spoiled by the likes of Mr. Meshenberg, Mr. Seidman and Mr. Bresnicky. 

William L Kahrl

Many of us doubtless sympathize with Bill Sokol, Chris, Andy. We've all probably had enough of this election. But their comments got me thinking and I want to see if I can interest any of the rest of you in addressing what I see as the last geat question that our generation has to answer for. Namely: who are these horrible children who now inhabit our colleges and universities, how did they get that way and how much are we to blame?

Don't blame Brother Sokol for the question. But look at what we've been doing here these last two years. Our ever-expanding forum is a testament to our belief that what happened in school really mattered in our lives. Most of society might disagree but it's a good thing for us. And the essence of the value of that schooling, as we keep pointing out, involved the exposure to new ideas and the intellectual turmoil that provoked.

As I recall, we argued about everything, trying on new ideas evey few weeks like the latest fashion tyles, to see if they fit. When I got to college we took great pride that our alumni were leaders on both sides of the March on the Pentagon. Proud because it spoke to the ideological diversity of Yale and to the importance of the issues our generation chose to fight over.  Contrast that with the humiliation of the institutions we love -- Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Smith, Brandeis, Vassar. In the squabbled over safe spaces, the silencing of debate, and the bans on ideas, questions, and even words, I don't what's more troubling -- the hysteria of the students, their teachers and administrators, or its utter triviality. I don't for a minute imagine that young people graduating from high schoool today are any less intelligent or accomplished than we. And I'm sure many of their professors are at the forefront of their fields so far as the bonds of collegiality and the demands of academic entrepreneurship allow.

So I am mystified. I first encountered thhe contagion in the mid-80s when a friend reared up a brilliant, multi-talented daughter, engaged and engagin, sent her off to Williams, and got back an angry, disoriented, oppressed minorty. Sine then I've seen parents on bookstores (when there still were bookstores), taking books away from their children. I wanted to shout, "What are you doing? The kid wants to READ!" (Stay tuned. I'm not done yet)

William L Kahrl

(For those who can stand a little more of this rant)

Any friends I have today who still have offspring in college insist their kids are immune. Our three emerged unscathed as well. All are just as ferociously independent as we'd hoped. too articulate for their own good, and deeply involved in shaping public policy. We disagree about everything and love to get together for the sheer joy of the argument. If you were seated next to us in a restaurant, you would ask to have your table moved.

I'm sure most of you agree. Almost all our children, after all, were quite wonderful. And yet it's their generation, and their children in turn, who are responsible for this silencing of the discussion that nurtures civilization. So we must be in some way to blame.

So there it is. The problem I hope you can help me to understand before we all check out. How did our generation, basted as we were in the intoxication of free speech, indulged by free love, and devoted at one time to the defense and encouragement of free people everywhere, wind up producing two generations of the most regressive, oppressive, authoritarian, Pecksniffian, and paranoid Americans since the Puritans stopped piling up rocks on the neighbors they didn't care for?

Any takers?

Barbara Ellen Adelman (Anderson)

First of all I wonder why my birthdat, sept 22, is not noted !!  Next regarding Asa voak, the last I heard (30 years ago) he did some horrendous crime and went to jail for a loooong time.  I was such a bad student but I'm so impressed with this dialogue. I was too shy to ever get close to any teacher.

Joseph G Blake

That is a tall order,Will.

I hope some will take it up, I like to think my children are not as you describe, but they are all well traveled, lived overseas with us and two studied in Europe. And I like to think we taught them to be independent of thought and tolerant. 

I guess I am not much help and should apologize for patting myself on the back but I can say to touch one point. Their mother always bought them books she ever they wanted one or at the school book fairs. She died the same now for the grandchildren. I recently organized my stamp collection for my granddaughter as a gift which we talk about to give them a sense of history and the geography and countries.

 But it's easy to end up in Ghetto. What I mean is that we often feel most comfortable with people like ourselves. A negative feature in the history of Shaker was its claim of exclusivity. There was a Van Sweringen ad in the mid 20s that asserted that if you lived in Shaker your children would play with children from equally well ordered homes. That was I response to the paranoia or angst that prevailed after WW1 and the perceived fear about immigrants. Around 1920 we first heavily restricted immigration and established quotas that favored immigrants from Western Europe.

We are doing it again albeit rather Eastern Europeans it's Mexicans. 

But your examples are much wider than that. But history may not repeat exactly but it's themes do.

We should recall that when we were in school at Shaker many outside our immediate world saw us as entitled and snobs. Not fair but it may demonstrate the ghetto is not necessarily for the poor. Even in Shaker there were lines some based on ethnicity and another based on the tracks- which side of Van Aken Blvd you lived on.

I have said too much and may be completely off the mark relative to your comments. 

Barbara Ellen Adelman (Anderson)

I so look forward to your comments. being from shaker i was always asked if i was Jewish!  i was anxious to leave shaker asap. it was a difficult time for me although I didnt realize it at the time. then the man I married second time around was from New Rochelle ny and would only live in shaker, he loved it there. so back i returned with my 2 children to also graduate from shaker!  when I was a senior my family visited mexico city and when i said i was from Cleveland people actually asked if i knew where Shaker Hts. was. 1964

James Reese

Joseph G Blake

Barbara

Thanks for the kind words.

Yes there was a time when Shaker was famous. And associated with Cleveland as much as the Indians.

Even Ward Cleaver of Leave it to Beaver fame had an Aunt Martha who lived in Shaker Heights.

Because my family lived there from 1928 until 1989 we saw a real evolution of attitudes. I even saw it within my own family . I am sure we perceived the world more narrowly as one might have in those days. But my father was in wholesale clothing and most of his business associates like Howard Rubin (Howard's men's shop on Chagrin) were Jewish. So we understood the differences more directly and accepted them. 

We had two lists for the holidays . Christmas and Chanukah. We gave to Christian and Jewish charities. But my mother did decline to join Hadassah when called a few times. My mother explained she was not Jewish.

We also had two lists for holiday gifts to customers. Really good ones got Johnny Walker black and average ones got Johnny Walker red. This was well before blue green and whatever else they have added sincez

But my father often recalled the Van Swetingen consent. He could not sell the house without their OK. That consent actually survives today and always granted because the power is with the Mayors of Shaker, Beechwood and Pepper Pike. The deed restrictions form the basis of zoning in the cities and hence the consent   Only reinforces the zoning and not exclusion. The restrictions lapse in 2026. 

While I am thinking of it, let me wish all our Jewish  class mates a Happy New Year. This reminds me I have to send greetings to my son in law as well.

There is much to be proud of in the Shaker legacy including its willingness to confront the issues of integration properly and now confront the challenges of aging commercial areas by rebuilding Chagrin and now Van Aken.

Hope this all goes well. I sometimes wish there was a place to bury my ashes there. I miss it.

Joseph G Blake

I wanted to summarize below a story I today baout Willie Mays and the 1954 World Series between Cleveland and the New York iants, The author is Carl Cannon of REal Clear Politics. He included it in is morning summary.

Major League Baseball’s postseason is around the corner. Although our heroes of the diamond can’t rescue us from this year’s callously contested presidential campaign, they can distract us -- even thrill us -- which is precisely what happened on this day in 1954, when a brown-eyed handsome man made a beautiful over-the-shoulder catch that set the tone of a stunning World Series.

The Cleveland Indians had won 111 games while losing only 43 that year. They were not just the best regular-season team in 1954, they were one of the best of all time.

The heart of this squad was its pitching staff, which featured four future Hall of Famers, but like this year’s Chicago Cubs, the ’54 Indians were loaded everywhere. Second baseman Bobby Avila won the American League batting title. Third baseman Al Rosen had another All-Star season; Larry Doby led the American League in home runs and runs batted in while playing perhaps the best defensive centerfield in the league.

The team was led by another legend, Al Lopez, who was in the process of parlaying what he’d learned during a solid 18-year playing career as a catcher into another 17 years managing the Indians and the Chicago White Sox. Known as the American League skipper whose teams interrupted the Yankees dynasty, Alfonso Ramon Lopez is also enshrined in Cooperstown. In addition, I’m happy to tell you, he’s the great-grandfather of Shelby Lopez, RealClearPolitics’ audience development manager and all-around utility woman.

But let’s linger on Larry Doby for a moment. He was a proven star in the Negro League before the U.S. Navy needed his services in the Pacific in 1944-45. Signed by the Indians, he was the first black player in the American League, and the second to break the color barrier. Doby was also terrific in the clubhouse.

Here is how Bob Feller, one of those four Indian Hall of Fame pitchers, described Larry Doby years later:

“He was a great American, served the country during World War II, and he was a great ballplayer. He was kind of like Buzz Aldrin -- the second man on the moon, because he was the second African-American in the majors behind Jackie Robinson. He was just as good a ballplayer, an exciting player, and a very good teammate.”

Doby starred in the 1948 World Series, which was won by the Indians, and at 30 years of age was in his prime on September 29, 1954, when he saw Willie Mays, his New York Giants’ counterpart, make the play we are still talking about. Actually, Doby had one of the best views in the stadium. He was standing on second base when it happened.

The score was tied 2-2 in the top of the 8^th inning in the old Polo Grounds. Doby led off the inning with a walk. Al Rosen singled him to second. Up to the plate strode the Indians’ big first baseman, Vic Wertz, who already had two hits in the game, including the first-inning triple that accounted for Cleveland’s two runs. With a crack of the bat that sounded like a rifle shot, Wertz sent a drive over Mays’ head. Knowing he had room in the Polo Grounds’ cavernous centerfield, Mays turned around, raced toward the wall and made the over-the-shoulder grab still known in baseball circles as The Catch.

Doby tagged up on the play and went to third, but that was as far as he would get. The game went into extra innings. In the bottom of the 10^th Willie Mays drew a walk, stole second, and scored the winning run on Dusty Rhodes’ three-run, pinch-hit homer.

The Giants would win the next three games, sweeping the Indians, who have never won a World Series since. Perhaps this is Cleveland’s year. They certainly have a strong team, but let me dwell on the aspects of that play that transcended baseball.

Willie Mays was 23 years old when he made The Catch, and he stood at the vanguard of a generation of black players too young to have been barred by baseball’s shameful color barrier. Mays, a blend of power and speed, played the game with unfettered elan and a high baseball IQ. He had come to New York from Alabama and stolen hearts as well as bases. Actress Tallulah Bankhead -- a Southern white woman, but a racial liberal -- once deflected an over-the-top compliment about her art by saying in her trademark husky voice, “Genius? Dahling, there are only two geniuses, Willie Shakespeare and Willie Mays.”

But then Willie and his Giants’ teammates left New York for California, and Mays began to be part of something even larger, if not always joyous. The Giants and Brooklyn Dodgers both decamped to the West Coast just as California was readying to rival New York as a cultural and political power in this country.

It was curious what happened next. The Dodgers' Sandy Koufax, Jewish and Brooklyn-born, took to the mellower air of Southern California and blossomed into an unparalleled star. Back East, a generation of young New Yorkers essentially forgot Mays, or pretended to, if only out of self-preservation, and embraced Mickey Mantle and his Yankees team of champions.

Meanwhile, San Francisco revealed that it wasn't yet the cosmopolitan burg it aspired to be. There were neighborhoods where the color of Mays skin made him an unwelcome homeowner. Larry Doby had experienced a similar hurdle in Patterson, New Jersey. But in a California haven that liked to call itself simply “The City”? Even Bay Area baseball fans could be fickle. Those old enough to remember compared Mays, not favorably, to their city's hometown hero: Joe DiMaggio. Joe didn't strike out as much, these old-timers groused. He made tough chances in centerfield look easy, while Mays did it the other way around.

Yet kids of my generation in the Bay Area were utterly enthralled by Willie Mays. We loved how he tore around the diamond theatrically, and we cheered happily when his cap flew off his head as he slid into a base or chased a fly ball.

We saw something else, too -- or rather, we didn’t see anything at all: We didn’t see color. The Giants’ teams of the 1960s were heavily black and Latino, but we knew no other universe. The Giants were our team and “black is beautiful” seemed less a statement of liberation than an observation of the world as it really was -- at least on the green grass and manicured field at Candlestick Park.

John Fogerty, a young musician of our generation who attended El Cerrito High School across the bay, wrote a song that was inspired by watching Willie Mays play. That tune, “Centerfield,” includes the line “And rounding third, headed for home, it’s a brown-eyed handsome man.”

Those words were originally Chuck Berry’s, an apparent allusion to Jackie Robinson -- the Neil Armstrong to Larry Doby’s Buzz Aldrin.

Many years later, at the National Press Club, I had a chance to talk to Doby, who’d come to talk about baseball. Even though I was then a reporter in my 30s, I was briefly transported back in time and posed a kid’s question, not a journalist’s.

“Who was the best player you ever played with?”

“Willie Mays,” he replied softly. “He was the best I ever saw.”

Gary D Hermann

I remember that 1954 World Series.  Went to the 4th and final game with Mom (who was a rabid baseball fan) and saw Sal "the Barber" Maglie shut out the Tribe 4-0.   Of course, our seats were in right field with much of our view blocked by a post, but it was a thrill to be there.   A great memory.

William K Dickey

Gary, my memory of the 1954 series is Game 5 that I was supposed to go to.  Having two older brothers, I was relegared to wait.  Still waiting!

Edward M Kovachy, Jr

We live in Portola Valley, California, near Palo Alto.  Fifteen years ago I took our younger son, Benny, then aged nine, trick or treating. I had learned from a parent at my older boy's (Timmy's) school that Willie Mays lived near that parent in Atherton.  He told me where. He also told me that Mr. Mays would greet kids on Halloween.  Benny and I had a great night of trick or treating and arrived at Mr. Mays's house quite late--maybe 8:00 PM. Mr. Mays had already had a long night and was looking pretty tired.  We got in line to meet him.  When our turn came, he opened the conversation by saying to me in a rather grumpy way, "Haven't you been here before?"  Yikes! Nonetheless, nothing ventured, nothing gained.  I replied politely, "No, Mr. Mays, we haven't.  And, by the way, I was in the stadium when you won the World Series in 1954." (All true.  Like Gary, I had gone to the game--but with my dad.  I was, of course, rooting for the Tribe and was crestfallen when we lost.  I did not tell Mr. Mays any of that.)  Immediately, he brightened up. He became the friendly Willie Mays for which he is famous.  He had two buckets of balls.  He reached into one and handed it to Benny.  We were very appreciative.  Now, in our family, we try to treat the two boys equally.  So, pushing my luck, I asked Mr. Mays for one more ball for Timmy, then fourteen, who was unable to come.  Mr. Mays reached into the other bucket and handed me another baseball.  Benny and I were very appreciative throughout.  What a treat to meet and talk with Willie Mays and to receive two Major League baseballs from him.  Wow!  Timmy's baseballl was a really nice Major League baseball, as was Benny's.  In addition, Benny's had something that looked like a large 4 written on it.  Why, we did not know.  What mattered was that it was from Willie Mays.  A year or so later I was in  a sports collectibles store and saw an area with Willie Mays memorabilia.  And on some of them was his autograph. It looked exactly like a 4.   How about that!  Above all, let me leave you with this:  "Now, as in 1954, go Tribe!!!!" 

Michael A Liff

Gary, don't mean to trample on your memory, but game 4 score was 7-4, and Maglie didn't pitch.  Tribe still lost and it was one of the great heartbreaks of my young life at the time.  111 wins and dropped 4 straight in the World Series.  Argggg

Howard Reid Bell

Waxing nostalgic, I too attended game 4 and witnessed the NY Giants sweep the Tribe to win the World Series. I remember it being a very dull game for the home crowd. On a brighter note, I also attended the 1954 All-Star game at Municipal Stadium. American League won 11-9.  Tribe batters on the team belted several home runs. The irony of the game was that the American League winning pitcher didn't throw a single pitch. If anyone wants to know how that could happen, let me know. Cheers to all.

Gary D Hermann

Michael is correct.   I looked it up and the Tribe in fact was beaten 7-4 in game four and it wasn't Sal the Barber Maglie who was pitching.  Obviously, my memory of the score has faded with age and I jumbled some facts together (Sal the Barber did shut out the Indians in the Series, but it was in the first game).    I am sure, however, that I was at the last game of the Series, sitting in right field behind a pole, and that it created a wonderful memory of being at the World Series.  This discussion and memory also brings back memories of my Mom, who died last year at 97.   I recall learning that she was a tomboy as a girl and played second base on the baseball team in the small town in Alabama where she grew up.   My Dad, who grew up on a farm, had no interest in sports, so I can thank my Mom for exposing me to sports. 

Sheldon J Kelman

I guess our class was very well represented at game 4, though we were all pretty young.  I was there with my grandfather and needless to say, was very disappointed.  Here's to a much better outcome this year after the Tribe takes down Toronto.  We beat them 4-3 in this season's matchup and that would be acceptable in the ALCS, though I certainly hope it doesn't go seven games.  That would be too stressful.  I envy all of you who are still in Cleveland and will be able to go to a game or two.  Go Tribe. 

Joseph G Blake

I am not a movie authority but we saw "Birth of A Nation " recently.

I found it very informative and from the reviews generally true to the events. It made me wonder why more did not rebel. 

See it. It's worth your time albeit graphic in many ways.

Joseph G Blake

No doubt in hoghschool we all read The Road Not Taken

I have copied below an item in the WSJ this weekend

Not the least of Robert Frost’s accomplishments is that he managed to balance popularity with artistic excellence. Take “The Road Not Taken” (1916), arguably his most famous poem. You probably read it in high school. You will find it in any good poetry anthology. In its wizardry, the poem deserves the highest accolades. The irony is that it has often been loved and quoted for the wrong reasons. The further irony is that this misunderstanding itself testifies to the subtlety and genius of its creator. The critic David Orr has written an entire book—“The Road Not Taken: Finding America in the Poem Everyone Loves and Almost Everyone Gets Wrong” (2015), newly in paperback—on this misunderstanding and the nuances of Frost’s design.

Here is the poem:

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, 
And sorry I could not travel both 
And be one traveler, long I stood 
And looked down one as far as I could 
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair, 
And having perhaps the better claim, 
Because it was grassy and wanted wear; 
Though as for that the passing there 
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay 
In leaves no step had trodden black. 
Oh, I kept the first for another day! 
Yet knowing how way leads on to way, 
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh 
Somewhere ages and ages hence: 
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— 
I took the one less traveled by, 
And that has made all the difference.

The last stanza sounds heroic. The tone—a blend of nostalgia, wistfulness, assertiveness and pride—is as irresistible as the rhetoric. Look at the last three lines. A master of repetition, Frost repeats a portion of the poem’s opening line and then creates all the drama in the world simply by repeating the first person pronoun, suspending it across two lines, and clinching it with a rhyme: “and I— / I took the one less traveled by.”

The poignant repetition, accompanied by a gently insistent rhyme, is a Frost signature. Think of the end of “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening,” which President John F. Kennedy quoted to close many of his campaign speeches in 1960: “The woods are lovely, dark and deep, / But I have promises to keep, / And miles to go before I sleep, / And miles to go before I sleep.” The effect is magical. In “Stopping by Woods,” it is the specter of death that is evoked. In “The Road Not Taken,” it is the choice facing anyone about to commence upon a career.

And here’s where the misunderstanding comes in. Generations of commencement speakers have quoted “The Road Not Taken,” because of its perceived message. Avoid the common route. Go your own way. Be a maverick, a nonconformist in the great American tradition of Emerson and Thoreau.

But now go back to the second stanza. As far as the traffic on them, the two roads are “really,” Frost acknowledges, “about the same.” Two questions immediately occur. If there is little to distinguish the two roads, what do we make of the last stanza? And if the poem is not a straightforward assertion of nonconformism, what is it about?

One thing it is about is the inevitability of regret. You cannot “be one traveler” and take both paths. At any crossroads you must choose, and though you may keep alive the hope that you’ll return someday, you know deep down you will never get a second chance. “I doubted if I should ever come back.”

What about the proud boast made in the last stanza? The key line, easy to overlook, is “I shall be telling this with a sigh.” The sigh communicates regret even as it paves the way for a stirring declaration of independence. But this declaration may just be a case of a proud man praising his own past.

So subtle is this seemingly plain-spoken poet that he can have it both ways. He can appeal to readers who look for adages, nuggets of wisdom, and he can reward those who value subtlety and complexity. Frost’s economy is exemplary: the “yellow” wood in line one suffices to place us in autumn. And the vagueness of “Somewhere ages and ages hence” establishes that the speaker is an older gentleman given to recollecting the past with a distant look in his eyes. For those captivated by the poem, Mr. Orr’s book is highly recommended.

When I teach “The Road Not Taken,” I ask students: What is the sneakiest word in the poem? Hint: It is in the title. The word is “not,” a powerful word because it gives presence to absence, summoning up what is not there. The poem is about the road the speaker takes, not about the one disdained. The road not taken is the road we will never know except perhaps in alternative versions of history, novels that center, for example, on the assassination of President Kennedy, at whose inauguration in 1961 Frost recited another of his great poems, “The Gift Outright.”

—Mr. Lehman’s latest book is “ Sinatra’s Century: One Hundred Notes on the Man and His World” (HarperCollins). He teaches in the graduate writing program of the New School in New York City.