Dixon poet turns phrases into a lifelong passion

DIXON – When his muses speak, 78-year-old Stan Wolzen, better known to many as “The Dixon Poet,” doesn’t dare ignore them.

They come in many forms: animals, nature, holidays, nouns of all sorts: If it’s a person, place or thing, Stan’s likely written about it. Or her – perhaps most notably, his bride of 32 years, June. She gets a poem for every occasion.

“He’s very good,” she said. “Even though I’m his wife, I can say it.”

He’s written, somewhat reluctantly, about – gulp – politics.

“I try to steer clear of that stuff,” Wolzen said, “but I’ve written a lot of political poetry. I’m a middle-of-the-roader. I’m a contributing Democrat, but I’m definitely not a liberal. I’m a conservative Democrat. A lot of people say that can’t be, and I say the hell it can’t. There’s a lot of us.”

One thing’s for certain, he said: You can’t rush, or force, art.

“If I sit down and say I’m going to write a poem, I’d sit here for hours. Nothing. Blank,” he said. “But at 2:30 in the morning, I’ll be up in bed, and things will come into my head: bam, bam, bam, bam, bam. If you’ve heard of inspired writing, it comes to me without me thinking about it.”

And if he rolls over and tries to go back to sleep.

“It won’t happen,” he said. “I’ll lay there awake for hours, looking at the ceiling.”

He began his collection in earnest after graduating from high school in his hometown of Hendley, Nebraska, population 24. He’s hand-written well more than 1,000 poems, and has three overstuffed black binders to prove it. He’s also got pages and pages of places he’s shared them, from the Sauk Valley to outlying cities such as Princeton, Hinckley, Big Rock and Rock Island.

He and June joined the Northern Illinois Bluegrass Association this year, but don’t let the name fool you. In addition to including country and other related genres, NIBA enables Wolzen’s beautiful addiction to prose. It sponsors many of the local monthly music events: First Fridays at the Oregon VFW, the Lanark jam the second week at Cherry Grove Church, Fridays at the H.I. Lincoln Building in Franklin Grove the third week and the fourth-week session at Post House Community Center in Dixon.

In addition to helping coordinate the events, Stan enjoys his chance to mix things up in between musicians’ 15-minute allowances. He’s been reading his heartfelt holiday poem “Here Come the Holidays … Where Did They Go?” at this month’s events.

One of the subjects he’s written most about is the Dixon riverfront, having served on its commission from 2009 to 2014. But he and June, who lost their first wife and husband at ages 34 and 42, respectively, love to visit their son in Wisconsin, four in California and three in this very state, as well as their 17 grandchildren and 11 great-grandchildren.

A heart attack in 2004 reminded Stan of both his mortality, and the sense of urgency to put family first. So despite his wealth of knowledge on the riverfront, politics and business, he felt torn during a chat with Mayor Li Arellano Jr. Wolzen said many have urged him to join the task force that’s been charged with helping form Dixon One, the city’s marketing arm, which will consolidate the commission, Dixon Main Street and Tourism.

Consultant will have to do.

“The next 6 months, for this task force, it’s going to be a wham, bam, knockout thing,” Stan said. “They’re really going to have to work hard on it, and if they can use my knowledge, I’m more than happy to advise.”

Stan has written numerous poems about former comptroller Rita Crundwell, and campaigned for former Mayor Jim Burke each year until they had a falling out after the 2007 election.

He campaigned for Chris Bishop, and not just because the councilman’s brother, Charlie, is his godson.

“Some people said, ‘You’re 78 years old, you should be voting for the people your age,’” he said, laughing.

On the flip side, he also helped Mike Venier in his pursuit of a council seat, drawing more confused looks.

“I told them you’ve got to have somebody that’s of age,” he said, laughing harder. “It was very evident, the feelings of the people in this city, with the way the election went, I’ll tell you that right now. For them to get rid of the whole bunch and to get all new, young people in there …”

“Thank God,” June chimed in.

Stan is guardedly excited about the new council’s early progress.

“I’m glad to see the changes, but some of it, I think they need to move more slowly,” he said. “However, there is make-up to be done. Even though it didn’t show a lot, there were a lot of things stymied with our leadership.”

He hasn’t written a poem about the new council. Not yet.

“We’ll see what they do, first,” June said, taking the words right out of Stan’s mouth – which is quite the feat.

An excerpt from ‘Sig, the Big Teddy Bear’

June Wolzen’s sister, Rose Mary Sigwards and her late husband, Elwood, own the Dixon Subway, one of about 25 locations their family owns in northwestern Illinois and Iowa. When “Sig” passed in 1997, Stan Wolzen wrote a poem and read it at the meal after the funeral. Here are some excerpts:

Elwoood Sigwards was his name, but most of us called him Sig.

He made the Hall of Fame in basketball, he was so big.

6-foot-7 in his prime, he learned to duck a lot.

But he couldn’t duck the arrow when Cupid made his shot.

He wasn’t much for flowers, but a Rose caught his eye.

And with the help of Cupid, she fell for the big guy.

…

He fought against infliction, that made this big bear lame.

But just like Cupid’s arrow, he couldn’t duck its aim.

Three years ago, our maker took our teddy bear.

He needed him for something. He’s now in best of care.