The Sentimentalist

poem had been created. Three years later Zimmer told Jack he’d done it.

Since then Jack has gone on to publish ten collections of poetry with an eleventh to arrive in 2024. William Stafford once said, “If I write ten poems, one will be effective and all will be worth it.” Jack holds these words close; he believes in the power of the process over publications or press. What Jack captures on the page, he hopes others will find accessible, but he also assures that further reads will provide layers of depth. “There has to be mystery in it,” Jack says.

In 2016, Ridl tried his hand at a new writing practice: a blog. It all started with the election of Donald Trump, who I’ll refer to from here on out the same way Jack does: number 45. Each Thursday, Jack would publish a reflection. The posts were intended as a form of protest. “A protest of the alternative,” as Ridl phrased it. He wanted to distract from 45; he wanted something to say, “Look here! Look here!” The subjects of his posts ranged from baking bread to his grandmother’s porch to putting down the dog. Each entry ended with a poem written by Ridl. He vowed to keep at it until 45 left office, which he admitted he thought would surely only last a few weeks. With 45’s departure in 2020, Jack shifted gears. He now hosts The Sentimentalist every Thursday at 9:00am on Youtube. The atmosphere reads very Mr. Rogers. Ridl leads the audience down tangents about losing keys and insights about rain and kindness, all captured as he sits on his couch with the dog by his side, much like he does for our interview. As he did with his blog, he ends each episode by reading aloud a poem.

It’s this sense of hospitality and kinship that carries over into his workshops. As a participant last summer, I feel confident naming him not merely as a facilitator of the workshop, but as a guide and companion through the writing process. His hope is to leave writers with something they can take home with them. “You won’t get criticism from me,” Ridl says, “You’ll get suggestions and feedback and possibilities.” And by the time I’ve finished my cup of tea, that’s exactly what I leave the poet’s house with, a sense of possibility.

JACK RIDL (he/him) is the Poet Laureate of Douglas, Michigan, and author of several collections of poetry, including Saint Peter and the Goldfinch. He is a longtime instructor of Art on the Meadow courses of which he co-taught for several years with his daughter Meridith Ridl. Every Thursday, Ridl hosts and posts on his YouTube channel, The Sentimentalist.

The Lost Similes by Jack Ridl

Like the way the nuthatch comes down a tree headfirst

Like two vanilla wafers left on the platter

Like winter leaving behind ice by the road

Like your sister’s hair when she was in seventh grade

Like a pair of shoes by the door

Like Spring coming and going

Like a bucket of mulch sitting beside the bicycle

Like a rusted tire iron

Like butter burr spreading under the white pines

Like my grandmother’s crooked smile

Like eleven days without going to the post office

Like that regret

Like when it rained all night and into the morning

Like nothing you know

—for Mary Ruefle