Wendy McVicker for Athens: Glimpses of Home

Through movement and words, one woman makes the world more beautiful
By Jenaye Antonuccio

Some have called her a “Warrior Poet”.
Having earned a fourth degree black belt in karate, Wendy McVicker affably confesses that she enjoys both a good spar and the richness of words.
But for McVicker, poet-in-residence for the Ohio Arts Council, karate teacher, and Quaker, the title is just a tease. “I don’t think of myself as someone who impacts the world,” McVicker says. “I’m a small person. I’m shy.”
She adds, “The things that I do I hope tend towards peace, good relations, community. and preservation of the natural world. I would like to walk through the world in such a way that I leave growing behind me instead of destruction. I would really rather move and touch people with words.”
McVicker loves teaching the craft of poetry with this philosophy in mind – inviting her students to write, and encouragement along the way. K - 12 schoolchildren and community members have benefited from her residencies at ARTS/West, the Dairy Barn, the Kennedy Museum, libraries, the Circle Round the Square program, and the Power of Poetry festival in Logan. Since 2000, The Ohio Arts Council has commissioned McVicker, believing in her abilities to inspire the community with a further appreciation of the art.
“It gives (people) a chance to experience the whole process of making art: coming up with ideas, experimenting, making things happen, as well as getting disappointed and starting again,” McVicker says.
She is passionate about sharing her love of words. “I am delighted and amazed by what happens with kids,” says McVicker. “Once, I did a two week, six-session poetry unit, and we made an anthology. Those kids are in their twenties now, and they come up to me and say, ‘I still have my anthology!’”
McVicker is recognized for her petite frame and lengthy locks, but she insists that karate allows her to confront her limitations and become bigger. “Studying karate can build self-confidence and calm focus,” she says, “Body, mind, and spirit all work together.”
She recalls being shocked when her eldest son requested to take classes. As a Quaker committed to pacifism, she was horrified and only thought of the violence it would entail.
“I let him try it and it was wonderful for him,” says McVicker. “It looked like fun and good exercise. Karate is not about being violent, it is the opposite.”
Now she teaches the skill of karate to 7 – 12 year olds. “My intention was to be with the boys and get exercise, but here I am sixteen years later.” She keeps these goals in mind for herself and her students: seek perfection of character, be faithful, endeavor, respect others, and refrain from violent behavior.
In her life, poetry and karate are not opposites, but different ways to communicate. “Poetry comes out of the body,” she says, “calling on all our senses and emotions. Karate is like another language, and yet beautiful as well.”
She acknowledges that she needs variety in order to think creatively. “While I love reading and writing, I need to move. I can’t do (just) reading and writing all day. I have to have both.”
Her love of words came to her at a young age. From the time she learned to read, she wanted to write. In her adult life, she moved for a time to French-speaking Switzerland where her communicating was mostly hand motions for meaning.
Upon returning to the states, her love for the richness and subtleties of the English language was rekindled. Her children’s naptime brought re-discovery of her voice on paper. “Because the only time I ever had to write was this hour, I could sketch out a full poem. If I were trying to write out stories, I would be insanely frustrated. I didn’t want to be insanely frustrated around my children.”
Now that her children are in their twenties, she reflects on her continual return to poetry. “My mind doesn’t work narratively, it tends to leap around more. My mother used to say, ‘I can’t follow your conversation. You are just jumping around.’ Making those jumps is something that poets and poems can do.”
Athens was not always home for McVicker.
“I arrived grieving for the place I had just left,” says McVicker. “My husband had already rented a place here and came back with pictures of a magnificent maple tree. But when we arrived, it had been cut down. The sun was blazing through the window and here was this raw stump and sawdust everywhere.”
They stayed in Athens a lonely six months before moving again. In 1988, they were slated to return to Athens, but she was apprehensive. Community and connection were important to her, so she was determined to find the positive.
“Any place you go there are good things and I was going to find them,” she says. “I reconnected with the Quaker meeting as a source of love and energy.” They’ve been here ever since. “Athens is home,” says McVicker. “We’ve put down roots. We feel really connected to people here.”
She laments that Athens is transitory in nature, a stopping point for people before they move on. “It can very much be a revolving door,” she says.
When she first arrived, East State Street only housed the Athens Mall and a few car dealerships. Though the town has grown, and some of it is exciting, she would like to see Athens keep uptown alive as a mainly pedestrian social center. “I wish the Athens vision could be other than just the usual sprawl that one sees everywhere. It forces me to get in the car.”
Yet, she loves the homegrown businesses and the familiar faces. Says McVicker, “At Kroger you can go and have five conversations. The farmers market is (also) like this.”
She happily raised her children here, and they are now grown. She and her husband have considered moving on. “My husband said, ‘If you want your children to visit you, live where they grew up so they are happy to come back and reconnect. Or live somewhere exotic where anyone would want to visit.’”
She pauses and smiles, adding, “But I don’t picture leaving Athens.”