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Vita by Cleatus (it almost reads like poetry)

Cleatus Rattan, a former working and rodeo cowboy, was born in Dallas, Texas, and attended St. Marks School through the fifth form (grade). At that time, his father moved him to the then- little town of Irving, Texas, where he could have cowboy experiences. After Irving High School, Rattan attended Southern Methodist University for two listless years, certainly he would rather not list them, then joined the Marine Corps from which he graduated with the degree of sergeant four years later.
Properly infused with academic vigor at this point, Rattan tried to return to SMU, but the school would not have him. Rattan’s respect for SMU soared, but he earned bachelor’s and master’s degrees from the University of North Texas, a second MA from Hardin-Simmons University, and then the MLA from SMU, followed by a doctorate from Texas A&M University-Commerce.
Rattan taught English at MacArthur High School in Irving for three years, then joined the faculty at Cisco Jr. College where he continues now into his thirty-eighth year of teaching.
Rattan authored two chapbooks, 130 Miles to Dallas, winner of the 1982 Texas Review Poetry Prize and Free of the Flesh in 1994. In 1996, he received the Mesquite Poetry Award. In 2002 he received the Texas Review Poetry Award for The Border, his first full-length book of poems. Moreover, Rattan received The New Texas Poetry Award in 2002 and was selected as “Featured Writer” for The Texas Book Festival in 2003. Approximately 250 of Rattan’s poems have found their way into journals, and anthologies published throughout the United States. He has been selected as The State of Texas Poet Laureate 2004.
Dr. Cleatus Rattan received an “Outstanding Graduate” award from his old high school in 1992, but he had to agree to attend the award ceremony and say nice things about his old high school in order to receive the award.
Rattan has been married for forty-two years to the former Connie Hood of Borger, Texas, a school beauty for each of the three years she required to earn a music degree from the University of North Texas. They have collaborated on three sons, all of whom are doctors of one sort or the other—one is a veterinarian. All three sons lettered in football for different Texas universities—the University of North Texas, Texas Tech University, and TCU.
There.

Any fame unexpected, says Poet Laureate Cleatus Rattan
continued from p. 1

What does being Texas’ Poet Laureate entail?
Being Poet Laureate in Texas means a great deal, but there are no duties associated with the designation. It is merely (I’m not sure why I say merely) an honor.
No good poet would want to write the occasional poem, which is to say for a state occasion. A few great poets have done so, but they were dragged into the activity fussing. Robert Frost read at Jack Kennedy’s inauguration, but the poem he chose was one that Kennedy knew and thought appropriate, “The Gift Outright,” which had been written about 20 years earlier. The best painters when they become well-known never accept commissions. I never write a poem for an occasion, though I have been asked to do so. Tennyson did so, and the writing of “The Charge of the Light Brigade” about an incident in 1854—The Crimean War—helped him become popular and rich. No chance for poets to become rich today. Maybe poets ought to write occasion poems, but I would never do so.

Where does being named Poet Laureate go on your Top 10 list of lifetime accomplishments?
Well … after my wife and sons, I guess I enjoy having been selected as Texas Poet Laureate more than any other of my so-called accomplishments.

A 400-mile round-trip commute. You really wanted to come here to learn plot and timing. Tell us about that. Then tell us if it was worth it.
The commute was something I needed to do, but I have little reason why. At least there is no reason that I understand. Seems crazy to me now. Kind of like suicide, I suppose. If one had waited a day, he might have been shaking at fear of the prospect of having killed himself the day before. Worth it? Yes. I have been earning degrees since I left the Corps. It is some need. Strangely, after I earned my fifth degree, I have had, for the first time in forty years, no desire to return to school as a student. I guess I killed whatever dragon was there.

Do you have any special memories of your time here?
Yeah, I have special memories. All of them have to do with the nice people I met. The students and the faculty and the administration were all exceedingly nice and helpful beyond what one might expect. At North Texas, I was lucky to get a minute or two of the grad dean’s time. At then ET, everyone seemed to have my interests at heart. I mean the staff, too. Even the secretaries, of whom I have poor memories at other universities, were especially considerate and helpful. As for my major and minor professors and the entire doctoral committee, they were always generous and helpful—even at times when it seemed to me that I must be intruding on their personal lives,.
I loved a guy named Murlon Dye too, and Harold Murphy was one of the funniest humans ever made. He once answered a dumb question in a stat class by pawing on one foot in the manner of a horse and saying, “Damn, lady, Trigger could have answered that one.” I fell into the aisle. She had that coming. We, all of the other students, loved him for that.
Murlon Dye said that we could all of us call him at his home at any time, day or night, and ask him questions. I did once. I called him at about two one morning, and he was gracious and answered my questions. I bet that doesn’t happen many places, and I have attended six universities.

… An answer to an unasked question comes to me. Even though I earned a doctoral degree, I never wanted to be a scholar. I like to write criticism, but to research ain’t no fun for me.
I always wanted to be a poet after a fine high school English class. I had a high school English teacher who wrote what I then fancied to be poetry. I would call it verse now. (The word verse is slightly pejorative.) I remember a line from a “poem” of his about our principal that read: “Tired of your boss’s face/ tired of the rat’s race?” Cool, I thought.
I read “Elegy for Jane” by Theodore Roethke in Mr. Wylie’s high school class, and I loved it. In college, I would take poems back to the A dorm or to the fraternity house and show them around for folks to see, and folks were not often as enthusiastic as I was. I was plumb full of wonder; others wondered about me, I think. So I have liked, now love, poetry for a long time, but I never thought I might write some until I heard Jack Myers read. Then I just had to try, but not because I thought him easy to emulate, but I somehow had the need to try. I never expected any, or at least not much, success.

And about his unselfconscious way of signing missives “Love, Cleatus,” he says…
I can’t give you a fair answer to that question. I like the answer. I use it on all letters to all people. I hope I mean it.

I’ve told you more than I know now.

Love, Cleatus

Elegy for a Former Teacher
by Cleatus Rattan
reprinted from The Border with permission (Texas Review Press)

A screech of tires
in a minor key
and she was gone.

She had been
a music teacher,
a good-looking woman
who taught method
and knew rhythm.

I remember her swaying
to her beat,
crescendo after crescendo.

Young eighth notes arranged
themselves on the sheet
music just for her.
She played them fast.

A drunken boy in his father’s car
the paper said.
Nothing else of note.

Resolution by the 78th Texas Legislature

Cleatus Rattan, Poet Laureate of Texas and Alumnus of A&M-Commerce, at his home in Cisco, Texas.

WHEREAS, Dr. Rattan’s poems plumb universal truths as they precisely and lovingly evoke the people and landscapes of his cherished West Texas; infused with warmth, humor, and humanity, his verses give the reader a feeling, as one critic suggested, of the way life ought to be; … now, therefore, be it
RESOLVED, That the 78th Legislature of the State of Texas hereby honor Cleatus Rattan on the occasion of his selection as Texas Poet Laureate for 2004.