Archives

The Green Scarf

Early on in my poetry residency at Seabrook Village, I passed around a silk scarf and invited each resident to tell us what it reminded him or her of:  what  time  of  day,  what  season,  a  place  they’ve  been,  a  possession,  a  scent, a sound, a memory. We...

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A View From Two Windows

The sun sets on the plaza, on the ripples in the river, children playing, colors changing, slowly yet so quickly. Turning to the garden filled with flowers and back again, the sun has disappeared beyond the horizon. by...

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Songs We Keep In Our Heart

Steady and true, rush along, Brown and Blue. Raise a might score today Fearless tear down the field and never yield! Brown and Blue, Brown and Blue for aye! Hammer them hard, boys, and break through their guard. That is old Tuftonia’s way. And our glorious banner once...

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If She Could See Me Now

Like the young Robert Lewis Stevenson was a disappointment to his family, my husband Frederick probably once felt himself a disappointment to his mother and father, too. One of his high school teachers told him that he’d never amount to anything. He decided to drop...

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My Son Brian and Nonna

My Son Brian How do you learn to be a father? How do you understand why little children run, jump, cry, shout, leave toys in the sink, throw clothes down the stairs, spill milk on the floor? Brian—warm, loving, disciplined, trying to be a father to two small children...

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He Said She Said and My Multi-Talented Father

He Said She Said He said he’d always cherish me. She said she would love me forever. He said he’d be my partner. She said she’d be my best friend. He said he would listen to my stories. She said she’d laugh at my jokes. He said he would always listen to me. She said...

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Stories from Seabrook’s Centenarians

GROWING UP ON THE LOWER EAST SIDE   Growing up as a kid on the Lower East Side of New York, I remember men with their pushcarts stopping by our tenement building to sell whatever they had on hand (you name it: apples, sweet potatoes, pickles in a barrel). They’d...

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Love Is All and Remembering The Heavenly Music

LOVE IS ALL: ALTERNATIVE LYRICS TO “VISSI D’ARTE” by Walter   Love is all. There is nothing else. I am ecstatic that this is so. There can be no love without forgiveness. by Walter REMEMBERING THE HEAVENLY MUSIC Growing up, my parents and I had dramatically opposed...

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On The Beach

Ah, what a perfect May day. I lie on my back, my arms folded behind my head, gazing upward. I see a canvas of blue. And with my mind’s eye, I begin to paint. Only one color exists—white— but my imagination begins to construct a world of fancy. There is a form long and...

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A Room Of Her Own and Gypsy Christmas

A Room Of Her Own Forget the pile of gifts! Never mind the work, the struggle, the pain. Ignore the love lavished on me by my mom and grandmother, who worked so hard in the hotels of New York City for so little. Pay no attention to the food and caring and clothing and...

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Writing A Children’s Book

I’m in the process of writing a children’s book called Freddie the Frog. I’m writing it for my ten grandchildren and great-grandchildren, but also for children with physical handicaps like cerebral palsy. It’s about a frog who can’t move because he was born in a kiln....

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Things That Anger Me About The World We Live In

Compared to Charles Dickens, my childhood was fairly idyllic. But I remember my mother telling me the story of the time she shared a hospital room with a woman who had survived one of the death marches that took place during the Armenian Massacres at the turn of the...

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Falling In Love With A Complete Stranger

I met my future husband Murray at Perfection Frocks, a dress house specializing in cotton day-dresses located off of Broadway, down 34th Street in New York City’s garment center. I worked there as a designer and showroom model, modeling their small-sized dresses. It...

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The Titanic From Fenwick Family Tales

Mabel Strother and Jim Fenwick were married in Kentucky on April 8th, 1912. They planned to take a month-long honeymoon, touring Europe. They took a train to New York and spent several days with family and friends. Their ship, the Carpathia, set sail for Gibraltar,...

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Three Haiku and Shalimar

Shalimar I was first introduced to the fragrance Shalimar at the time of my wedding. A business colleague of my new husband sent me a bottle of this perfume, that was created by Jacques Guerlain in 1921, as a wedding gift. I’ve used it constantly all these years and...

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The Birthday Present Of A Lifetime & Window On The Harbor

Window On The Harbor My father was the chief engineer of a ship called the U.S.S. Orizaba; as such, he was often at sea away from our home in Brooklyn. Usually, my mother would be notified in advance whenever his ship would sail into port. I recall one of his visits...

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Watercoloring With Words

The right word is like the proper color on your palate: you must choose carefully: crimson red, cerulean blue, raw umber, grass green, lemon yellow, and, of course, white and black. With brushes in hand, you begin. by Rosalind

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On God’s Mystic Shelf

Are the mountain tops covered with snow? How can I really know? Must I travel alone up slopes of gravel and stone to see for myself? What lies on God’s mystic shelf?   Will I somehow behold what I should have been told by answers to questions which forever unfold and...

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Snapshots Of Color

Silver Night and Grape Freeze remind me of the time my girlfriend and I traveled from Scotland to the Continent. We were sixteen, low on funds, And in need a good night’s sleep. We came upon a pensione these shades of purple in the night. Next morning, we discovered...

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Images Of Papa

In the early morning, Papa hurried to get ready to go to work. He wanted to be clean-shaven, but would not use a razor blade. No—he covered his face with a foul-smelling paste and cleaned it with a bone That left him smelling good all day. I can still smell the aroma...

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Happiness

So much depended upon my dying mother, her love for me, and perfect understanding. I sat on the middle stair just to be “out of the way” as my grandmother went up and down them. From here, I saw her collapse into my grandfather’s arms, sobbing, “Oh, David, the doctor...

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The Steuben Bowl

Clear, beautiful, sparkling glass. A symbol of my parents’ love for each other. A 25th Anniversary gift. Their quiet, constant love for each other. My father’s undemonstrative manner, his unexpected low-­‐key humor: An ad in a magazine—a fabulously expensive Tiffany...

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