read between the lions...

as a poet i realize that so much of my intent is not only in the lines...but in between them as well...the true mark of success - when your readers find themselves in both...but when i hit "the wall"...as i often do...and cannot write...i read...and being "old school" and proud of it...that means holding a book in my hands...maybe one hot off the press...crisp, with that inky odor wafting from the pages...or from a discounter...worn a bit, with curled corners...or to really feed my nerdy soul...a library book...complete with food and coffee stains from previous borrowers...a bookmark left behind...notes scribbled in the corners...which makes me imagine who held this book before...did they love it...hate it...did it push them to pull out a pen and paper...laptop...or phone...and get those thoughts, feelings and ideas down...twist them...flip them...and find meaning on the other side...and so as i dismay over a drought of words...and look for a book on my bookshelf...i think a train ride is needed....think i need to walk up those stairs between the lions on 42nd street...hold the fruits of writers that came before me in the palms of my hands...hoping for sweet inspiration as the summer heat toasts my brain!

the road not taken

as we shift from winter to summer...(if you blinked you missed spring)...and bask in the heat and humidity...(everyone on the east coast is banned from kvetching after this winter-you must schvitz in silence)...i find myself thinking of choices we make...and one's life makes for us...and i know all this is started whenever i see a graduation post or read a commencement speech...it is not a feeling of melancholy or regret but more of astonishment at the swift passage of time...i found it really hitting me as i paused for a late lunch last week at café reggio in the village...it coincidentally was nyu graduation day...and although the large ceremony now finds its home at yankee stadium, when i closed my eyes i was immediately back 33 years ago in washington square park...a hot glorious day...marching with fellow school of the arts grads...we would be dubbed tisch that day after a hefty endowment...we marched from the old building on second avenue...we were loud, brass and scared...facing a dubious employment future at best...it was tradition that our school jumped in the fountains after  being officially deemed graduates...my bestie jeannine and i had heard the violet robes ran in the water...and we had dresses on anticipating a nice lunch with our parents after...so we held back a bit...or maybe it was all the champagne we had that morning...but those graduates in the fountains...that was always the picture you would see in the daily news...exuberance...defiance...joy...and now it is 33 years later...and there i was draining an iced coffee in the presence of newly minted grads and their parents...from which nyu division really didn't matter...the ache i felt at what was...what is...and what will be...it reminded me that it does the creative soul a little good every once in a while to walk those old familiar steps again...take in all that has changed...and cherish what's remained...and to never second guess what roads you have taken or passed by...it's the detours that define who we are...

the birdcage

"as i wandered out on the streets of miami, i said to meinself this is one fancy town"....back a few days from a trip to the promised land...well, the domestic promised land...and it feels like years ago, as all vacations do...yes, we were in miami...south beach to be exact...a somewhat quieter section, unlike the picture of nathan lane and robin williams forever in my brain...a quick vacation for sun and relaxation...a trip seemingly surrounded by birds...first the emu in front of mike...a woman who clearly should have paid for the seat with extra legroom...when she put her chair back she was practically in his lap...then just for added measure she had to blast her music and get her groove on...so now mike's tray is about to bust off the back of her chair...we were one plane seat malfunction away from paralysis...then there were the cute little birds by the hotel rooftop pool...actual birds...not exactly sure of the species...let's say they were like "swifties"...you know, taylor swift fans...once they start they don't shut the fuck up...but when they did the new cackling came from a group of rocker wannabees directly across from us...you know the type...jeans, black tee shirt...in 90 degree heat...arm sleeve tattoo...then removal of said shirt...and ew...omg...not david grohl...but david lee roth....the 2015 version...they pranced like peacocks but were really rooftop pigeons...the beach...the ocean...the turquoise horizon that melts all memory of winter and the spring that never was...the peaceful hum of the ocean and sunbathers...bright and yellow like canaries...until..."abuelo, abuelo, abuelo"...one billion times...a freaking mynah bird...and I want to scream..."answer your fucking grandkid"...but I turn to the sun instead and dream of meadowlarks...as I watch shore birds comb the sands searching for buried treasure I dig my toes in deeper...want to take the bird songs home...to help me soar above the three hour delay back to laguardia...and the cacophony of caged birds waiting to fly home to their nests

the sky is crying

Every little girl should have an Auntie Sharyn…from my earliest memories of her as my first babysitter…playing with my dolls…torturing her,  along with my cousin Jennifer, by playing my Mary Poppins album… over and over and over…to the rehearsed chorus we would always sing to her “Auntie Sharyn, you got skinny”…chocolate turkeys for all of us every Thanksgiving…then years later…complaining about boys, life and everything to her…and always the sympathetic ear…to becoming a young adult and sharing a New Years with her...sleepovers here and there…next day commuting with much laughter to work…Brighton Beach memories…sun and laughter…the soft lilting tones of the knish guy “geshrying knish knish” and then parking himself by our blanket…not wanting to leave…we knew we couldn’t look at each because if we did we would still be laughing…and then I was an adult…through all the years I would marvel at the closeness and love of Sharyn and her sisters, my mother, Millie and my Aunt Harriet…affectionately “BB’s Girls”…the shorthand between them…her deep love and admiration for her daughter, Iris…her baby girl…and then Eddie…a dear son-in-law…really son after so many years…but Sharyn’s supreme “nachas” came with her grandchildren, Jeff and Jackie…she lit up when talking about them…the big events and day to day life…but life flies by on butterfly wings…and now she is gone…I cannot help but think of that famous T.S. Eliot line  “april is the cruelest month”…and it is cruel that Sharyn is gone…but I am reminded of the mitzvah of memory…a gift to us…and thanking my dear Aunt for that gift as our healing begins…

just keep swimming...

so last week i was shopping for a new swimsuit...a florida vacation in a few weeks...my favorite black go-to swimsuit ruined by chlorine and other mysterious chemicals during pool pt...i know...many of you are twitching in sympathy already...after a long and brutal winter...for me lots of idle, inactive time in a sling...and then ice...snow...indoors...cookies...pinot noir...and now...my thighs and ass are getting their own zip code...so, there i was going through racks of swimsuits...picked a few which did not make me think "hideous" instantly...and did the death march into the fitting room...three-way mirrors...yellow lighting...pasty white skin...omg, i thought...why not just give me a gun with the fitting room ticket...and then an old expression came to mind...if you can't lose it, tan it...and i swore, as i tried on one after the other...i swore to the beach gods to be faithful to the diet i had lamely started...and also vowed to keep my sunhat on at the beach...you know to protect from those uv rays...and also to hide...in case i should run into any size 4 skinny bitches from my past while sipping my exotic glass of water...gazing at the ocean...dreaming of winter and its excess washing away in the waves...

Gary, and Gary...Indiana

watching the news...can't help but think of that old expression...may you live in interesting times...new laws...old prejudices and fears...and the gentle coaxing...finessing of wording...ah, yes...the wicked witch scratches her chin...these things must be done delicately...these days those that rant against the evils of faraway lands...those countries we can't even pin on a map...ones that treat their citizens harshly in the name of what they call holy...the irony...yes, these days many of our fellow men and women...those we have entrusted with our local and national governments claim a special relationship with the stars and stripes and all we hold dear...and hide deep-seated fears behind the language and intent of law...all as the Judeo-Christian world approaches holy days...reflective days...the days of ten commandments...and then not being worthy of them...of ultimate sacrifice...resurrection...love...i do not mean to offend...but i think of a line from "hannah and her sisters"..."if Jesus came back and saw what was being done in his name, he'd never stop throwing up"...so as this holy week unfolds for many...as we pray for what should pass over and what should remain...think of the messages these days should impart to all...let your love of your faith lead you to greater acceptance of all your fellow men and women...even that which is most difficult for you...and remember...the good ole days weren't all that good...ask anyone still with us who had to wear a pink triangle...or yellow star...

as the saints go marching in

did you feel it today?...it was the feeling that the ground was about to sink from the sheer weight of it all...what weight you ask?...the weight of modern day saints...puzzled?...let my fried fifty-something brain lay it out for you...it all became abundantly clear reading a story in the paper about a man attempting to sue an applebee's in nj for burning his face as he leaned over his sizzling fajitas to pray...glad i read this because if i heard this while driving then i would have laughed so hard that i would have missed the five hundred potholes in front of me and blew out my tires....but it points to the fact that we live in a society where every individual feels blameless...surely it is always the fault of someone else...from anti-bullying assemblies where the most vicious bully wears the feigned smile pledging to be kind while furiously posting with the hidden phone...to the person ranting about the dui accident in his beautiful hamlet while running out of fingers to count recalling all the times driving home after more than a few at happy hour...the political experts among your circle ranting and never voting...people who blame those of other faiths for all life's ills who never step into their own houses of worship...the earth is sinking from the weight of this self-appointed sainthood...and maybe this long winter has left me a bit introspective...then again, maybe this spring all would be a little lighter if we did a little soul searching...a little soul cleaning, as it were...then maybe we could cut our fellow men and women a little slack...realize that each individual is flawed...including ourselves...and by accepting this and taking responsibility we lighten that weight...in time for summer...