WKMS Autumn Fundraiser

Thank you for making the WKMS autumn fundraiser a splendid success!
Thank YOU for reaching the $95,000 goal!

WKMS is fortunate to have a public radio community of friends who take time out of busy schedules to pledge, volunteer, serve as
on-air guests, provide listener and corporate challenges, and offer testimonials.

So again, thanks!

Top left: Peggy Watzek, Main Street Music Guitar Winner. Top right: Terri Bryan on the air. Bottom left: Bo Fowler takes a pledge! Bottom right: George Eldred and on-air guest Dr. Cynthia Gayman enjoy a coffee break.

We can't do without you! Thanks for your support!

WKMS Member Spotlight: Sandy Miller Sasso and Paul Sasso

Paul Sasso Cosmic Background Explorer: Are you on the Level?; acrylic on wood, gold leaf, clock works; 95"x 37.5 x 17.75"; 2004

Sandy Sasso Perserverance ; oil on panel 10" x 8"; 2004 Now on display at the Mark Palmer Gallery in Paducah

In this issue of WIRED, we turn the spotlight on Sandy Miller Sasso and Paul Sasso of Almo, Kentucky, who are WKMS Members.

Sandy and Paul have been WKMS supporters for nearly a decade. Sandy creates carefully staged paintings that reflect deeper social concerns while Paul enjoys woodworking from "a personal viewpoint that is based on not only observation of my everyday surroundings, but also observation of society with the removed eye of the outsider."

Both live and work at Sassoville, a compound of their own design and construction, near Almo, Kentucky where they are surrounded by trees and other people's coon dogs. They share a love for late Gothic and Early Renaissance art, Italian food, and travel. They say they could do without the coon dogs, but we know better!

Visit Sandy's site at sandymillersasso.com and Paul's site at Kentucky Arts Council.

We'd love to put the WIRED spotlight on YOU, too, so let us know more about you for upcoming issues! To do so, click here.

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CORRECTION:
WKMS wishes to make the following corrections related to the September 30th issue of WIRED.
The underwriters listed below contained incorrect links in, or were mistakenly excluded from, our previous issue.

Thanks to the following businesses for becoming underwriters or renewing their underwriting during September 2006. For information about becoming an underwriter on WKMS, e-mail ronda.gibson@murraystate.edu or anne.bidwell@murraystate.edu or call us at 1-800-599-4737.
We can’t do without you!

Alcan Composites, USA, in Benton	Oh, Riley's! Interiors in Paducah
Café Minou	Mansion II Go's Artisan Kitchen in Paducah
Shops of Midtown Paducah, including Poppy Seeds & Beads, With Ewe in Mind, Kersey’s Gallery, and Prima	Murray Calloway County Hospital

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WKMS Feedback is a new site for listeners to respond to what's on the air now.

Read more information on what you hear and share your thoughts on WKMS programs. Visit http://wkmsradioblog.wordpress.com for more. We're listening!

We thank WKMS Member
Dr. Cynthia Gayman of Murray
for submitting her favorite poem to WIRED!

Excerpt from "Garbage" by A. R. Ammons

1
Creepy little creepers are insinuatingly
curling up my spine (bringing the message) 

saying, Boy!, are you writing that great poem
the world's waiting for: don't you know you 

have an unaccomplished mission unaccomplished ;
someone somewhere may be at this very moment 

dying for the lack of what W. C. Williams says
you could (or somebody could) be giving: yeah? 

so, these little messengers say, what do you
mean teaching school (teaching poeny and 

poetry writing and wasting your time painting
sober little organic, meaningful pictures) 

when values thought lost (but only scrambled into
disengagement) lie around demolished 

and centerless because you (that's me, boy)
haven't elaborated everything in everybody's 

face, yet: on the other hand (I say to myself,
receiving the messengers and cutting them down) 

who has done anything or am I likely to do
anything the world won't twirl without: and 

since SS's enough money (I hope) to live
from now on on in elegance and simplicity— 

or, maybe, just simplicity—why shouldn't I
at my age (63) concentrate on chucking the 

advancements and rehearsing the sweetnesses of
leisure, nonchalance, and small-time byways: couple 

months ago, for example, I went all the way
from soy flakes (already roasted and pressed 

and in need of an hour's simmering boil
to be cooked) all the way to soybeans, the 

pure golden pearls themselves, 65¢ lb. dry: they
have to be soaked overnight in water and they 

have to be boiled slowly for six hours—but
they're welfare cheap, are a complete protein, 

more protein by weight than meat, more
calcium than milk, more lecithin than eggs, 

and somewhere in there the oil that smoothes
stools, a great virtue: I need time and verve 

to find out, now, about medicare/medicaid,
national osteoporosis week, gadabout tours, 

hearing loss, homesharing programs, and choosing
good nutrition! for starters! why should I 

be trying to write my flattest poem, now, for
whom, not for myself, for others?, posh, as I 

have never said: Social Security can provide
the beans, soys enough: my house, paid for for 

twenty years, is paid for: my young'un
is raised: nothing one can pay cash for seems 

very valuable: that reaches a high enough
benchmark for me—high enough that I wouldn't 

know what to do with anything beyond that, no
place to house it, park it, dock it, let it drift 

down to: elegance and simplicity: I wonder
if we need those celestial guidance systems 

striking mountaintops or if we need fuzzy
philosophy's abstruse failed reasonings: isn't 

it simple and elegant enough to believe in
qualities, simplicity and elegance, pitch in a 

little courage and generosity, a touch of
commitment, enough asceticism to prevent 

fattening: moderation: elegant and simple
moderation: trees defined themselves (into 

various definitions) through a dynamics of
struggle (hey, is the palaver rapping, yet?) 

and so it is as if there were a genetic
recognition that a young tree would get up and 

through only through taken space (parental
space not yielding at all, either) and, further: 

so, trunks, accommodated to rising, to reaching
the high light and deep water, were slender 

and fast moving, and this was okay because
one good thing about dense competition is that 

if one succeeds with it one is buttressed by
crowding competitors; that is, there was little 

room for branches, and just a tuft of green
possibility at the forest's roof: but, now, 

I mean, take my yard maple—put out in the free
and open—has overgrown, its trunk 

split down from a high fork: wind has
twisted off the biggest, bottom branch: there 

was, in fact, hardly any crowding and competition,
and the fat tree, unable to stop pouring it on, 

overfed and overgrew and, now, again, its skin's
broken into and disease may find it and bores 

of one kind or another, and fungus: it just
goes to show you: moderation imposed is better 

than no moderation at all: we tie into the
lives of those we love and our lives, then, go 

as theirs go; their pain we can't shake off;
their choices, often harming to themselves, 

pour through our agitated sleep, swirl up as
no-nos in our dreams; we rise several times 

in a night to walk about; we rise in the morning
to a crusty world headed nowhere, doorless: 

our chests burn with anxiety and a river of
anguish defines rapids and straits in the pit of 

our stomachs: how can we intercede and not
interfere: how can our love move more surroundingly, 

convincingly than our premonitory advice