Tuesday, November 12, 2024

Henry

 Henry

 

Bearded and bow-tied,

from his portrait on the library wall,

Henry surveys his collection

begun in the ‘30s, continuing today..

and finds it good:

comfortable and at home,

rubbing shoulders with Garrick and Macbeth,

with Juliet and Falstaff

and the various incarnations

of the man of the hour—

William Shakespeare.

 

 

Painting

 

A scene from a horror flick—

three creepy women

presiding over a pot of writhing souls,

pointing gnarled and knotty fingers

at their latest apparition:

the arm-ed head of Macbeth’s rival.

Henry

 Henry

 

Bearded and bow-tied,

from his portrait on the library wall,

Henry surveys his collection

begun in the ‘30s, continuing today..

and finds it good:

comfortable and at home,

rubbing shoulders with Garrick and Macbeth,

with Juliet and Falstaff

and the various incarnations

of the man of the hour—

William Shakespeare.

 

 

Painting

 

A scene from a horror flick—

three creepy women

presiding over a pot of writhing souls,

pointing gnarled and knotty fingers

at their latest apparition:

the arm-ed head of Macbeth’s rival.

Eternal Life

 Eternal Life

 

When my untidy ball of words and emotion 

finally rolls to a stop, so much will be left unsaid. 

And it will not matter if I was black or white, 

brown or yellow or rainbow-colored. 

It will not matter if I am Christian, Muslim, or Jew—

or any conglomeration thereof. 

I will not be—

at least in my present state—

and what is left will be disposed of   

by those who come after me.

 

What do I leave behind? 

Evidence of things I hold dear: 

piles of ordinary books, china, cut glass, crystal , 

turned wood bowls, particularly lovely old books,

maps and pictures, and precious photographs...

all the things I found beautiful in their own way. 

Will they mean anything to anyone 

after I am gone? Unlikely.

 

What do I do with my accumulated life? 

The casually gathered items 

that fill my house and brighten my days? 

Who is willing to accept my memories? 

Dare I even ask that of someone? 

I am reminded of a book 

(is there anything that does not remind me of a book?) 

whose hero, a so-called “divvy”, has a sixth sense for antiques. 

Somehow, he can feel the love and emotion 

a craftsman expends in the creation of an object. 

Might there be some person 

whose heart can sense the loving touches 

I spend on my Blackwell Herbal, 

my beautiful bowls, my fragile crystal, 

my china, my books?

 

Might I believe, somehow,

in eternal life?

Tuesday, July 30, 2024

Chosen People


I think I can read God’s mind

and know what He thought 

about his people in the desert:

“What’s WRONG with them?”

They had a heritage (enviable,

an actual promise from God!)

that they didn’t care to uphold. 

They had so much, and yet,

it was not enough.

They turned away, and

He drowned them in a flood,

sent them to Egypt as captive labor.

He led them out and fed them in the desert—

and they built a golden calf to spite Him.

 

What’s WRONG with us?

America: the light of the world?

hope burning bright in the harbor?

the golden door, promising

work and reward and peace and safety?

It’s not enough that we have so much—

we need to hoard it,

to hide in our storehouses,

to count our wealth,

to shut others out,

to be the greatest.


Let me tell you a secret:

We can’t be great while others starve.

We can’t be great while others drown

in pursuit of freedom.

We can’t be great on the backs of others

if we are ever to have peace,

if we are ever to achieve greatness.

God knew that then. He knows it now.

Folger Re-opening

 THE FOLGER SHAKESPEARE LIBRARY: Everything old is new again!

 

After a four-year renovation and expansion of its visitor spaces and services, the Folger Shakespeare Library once again opened its doors on June 21, 2024. Having acted as Docents for 10 years before it closed, and as participants in the reopening weekend, we found the changes dramatic– and the public reception was electric!  The new Folger is, indeed, for everyone.

 

Henry Clay Folger and his wife Emily Jordan Folger were long-time collectors of all things Shakespearean, of items from the English Renaissance period, and from 17th through early 20th century theater. From shortly after their marriage in 1885 until Henry’s death in 1930, they accumulated 82 Shakespeare First Folios–the largest collection in the world. These and their affiliated collections provide a veritable treasure trove for scholars of the Early Modern period. Making this feat possible was Henry’s income from his position within John D. Rockefeller’s Standard Oil Trust and later as President and of Standard Oil of New York.    

 

Henry and Emily’s collecting efforts were organized and advanced by Emily’s incredible diligence in identifying potential purchases, exhaustively cataloging them as they arrived, and noting where they were stored.  She was the more scholarly of the two, having received a master’s degree from Vassar, under the mentorship of Shakespeare scholar, Horace Howard Furness in 1896, on the subject of “The True Text of Shakespeare.”   

 

As their collection expanded, and as other early 20th century collectors, like Henry Huntington and J. P. Morgan, considered opening libraries to house their rare collections, Henry and Emily decided to open one of their own. Though Nantucket Island, New York and Stratford-upon-Avon were considered as possible locations, Washington, D. C. was ultimately selected. Henry was intimately involved in the planning for, and design of, the library (the primary architect was Paul Philippe Cret, of Philadelphia), but unfortunately, he died in 1930, only a few weeks after the cornerstone was laid. 

 

Despite Henry’s death, and the onset of the Great Depression, the venture continued under Emily’s direction, and The Folger Shakespeare Library was dedicated on April 23,1932, the 368th anniversary of the purported date of Shakespeare’s birth, in 1564.  The Library was originally envisioned as a scholarly library for research on Shakespeare, his times, and the evolution of theater, primarily Shakespearean, from the 16th through the early 20th century.  However, from the beginning, there was always a space in the building, known over time as the Great Hall, for visitors to see and enjoy objects from the collection. 

 

Beginning in the 1960s, exhibitions with a specific focus began to be mounted in the Great Hall, and as of the very early 1970s, volunteer docents were added to respond to visitors’ questions, give periodic tours of the building and engage in school and community outreach.  This approach to public interaction continued until the early months of 2020.

 

The Folger Board of Governors had already begun, however, in the early years of the 21stcentury, to plan for a Folger that would reach outward to a much broader and more diverse audience than the inwardly-focused Folger of the previous 90 years.  This outreach began in earnest in 2016, the 400th anniversary of the death of Shakespeare. At that time, the Folger sent a First Folio on loan to every U. S. state and territory, which occasioned activities and exhibitions across the country. That effort stimulated an enormous amount of interest. The leadership of the Folger believed that this was their moment, and began the process of renovation.

 

After the initial requisite funds had been raised, the work began, unfortunately coincident with the onset of the COVID pandemic. A significant problem arose in the planning of the new Folger: the building was surrounded by the U.S. Supreme Court and the Library of Congress. Since outward expansion was impossible, the only way to go was down. Digging commenced, and in the end, after some incredible feats of engineering, 12,000 additional square feet of user-friendly space was wrestled from the site.

 

So, now that the expansion has been accomplished, what is there to see and experience in the public spaces?  First, entrances to the building from the east and west ends are via gently sloping ramps, through gardens filled with plants that provide textural interest. Stairs – outside or inside– are no longer necessary, thus improving accessibility.  

 

Entering from the west, you are greeted by a panel that reads “Shakespeare is…? He was there and then—and he is here and now.” Food for thought, indeed. A nearby installation by artist and sculptor Fred Wilson consists of a black Venetian glass mirror. Reflected in that mirror is a 1579 portrait of Queen Elizabeth I, an image of 19th century Shakespearean actor Ira Aldridge--and you. As Wilson explains, the mirror represents Shakespeare himself.  How the viewer interprets this juxtaposition is an individual decision.

 

Entering from the east, you are confronted by a digital participatory “Shake Up Your Shakespeare” big screen, at which you and another player can trade electronic compliments or insults from Shakespeare’s plays.  Most visitors, at least in the early days, preferred to exchange insults, some of which are fairly obscure nowadays.  What, for example, does “You Banbury Cheese!” mean today?    

 

Continuing into the Shakespeare Hall, all 82 First Folios are visible in a specially-constructed glass case. Two are selected for viewing in a case flanked by consoles that enable the visitor to select specific Folios for viewing. You can take a closer look at the one Henry Folger considered his premier Folio: the presentation copy from William Jaggard, the First Folio printer, to Augustine Vincent, his friend from the College of Heralds.  Or perhaps you would like to see the one that, for several years in the 19th century, could be borrowed for up to a week from the Plymouth, England public library. Or maybe you’d care to examine a sample from the large percentage that were once owned by women, or the one owned by the Wodehouse family, or the one with the imprint of a pair of eyeglasses on a page.  The variations go on and on–each distinctive in its own way, each priceless.

 

During opening week, a visitor identified herself as being a member of the Caxton Club. There are two of William Caxton’s books on display in the new exhibition spaces. The first isThe Canterbury Tales, printed by Caxton in 1477, and obtained by the Folger in 1938 from the estate of Sir Leicester Harmsworth,. (One visitor said that, in many libraries, this particular volume would be the centerpiece.  Here, it is one of many candidates for that honor.)

  

The second Caxton is included in a very special loan exhibit from the Stuart and Mimi Rose collection, which will be available for viewing until January of 2025. The Recuyell of the Histories of Troy is a first edition of the first book printed in English by Caxton. Forty-nine other treasures from the Rose rare book and manuscript collection are on display, including an Egyptian Book of the Dead, from 100 BCE, and also a first edition, hand-colored Nuremberg Chronicle. There are first editions of Don QuixoteWuthering HeightsJane Eyreand Phyllis Wheatley’s Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral. Twentieth century literature includes first editions (and presentation copies) of The Wonderful Wizard of OzThe Tale of Peter Rabbit, The Great Gatsby and The Catcher in the Rye.  Proofs, with corrections in the authors’ hands include The Lord of the Rings, Dr. No, and Profiles in Courage.

 

Lest scientific works be neglected, the exhibit also includes first editions of Copernicus’s De revolutionibus, Kepler’s Astronomia nova, Galileo’s Dialogo, Newton’s Principia, and Darwin’s On The Origin of Species, among other gems. With this exhibition as an opener in the temporary gallery, one can only imagine what might be in store next for this exhibition space!

 

However, even though the Rose collection is full of wonders, the Folger vaults cannot be overshadowed. Items that have languished in storage for years are beginning their rotation through the exhibition cases.

 

In the Shakespeare Hall, for example, alongside the 82 First Folios (and a working reproduction of the type of printing press on which the First Folio would have been printed), there are two large exhibits that showcase aspects of Shakespeare. The first – called “Shakespeare Is…”-- begins with Shakespeare’s world in the late 16th and early 17thcenturies and extends to modern times.

  

This section begins with a reminder of Tudor England, represented by objects signed by the boy who would become King Henry VIII, and by his daughter, Elizabeth I, the future Queen. Then there are objects that reflect Shakespeare’s rise (e.g.,the document in which he is called an “Upstart Crow”), and his prosperity (e.g., portions of Shakespeare’s deed to New Place, in Stratford).  Additional objects point to what else was going on at the time: the settlement of Jamestown and the Virginia colony, as represented by John Smith’s 1612 map of Virginia; the lure of gold and silver and sugar in the New World; and the enslaving of Africans to do the hard labor.

 

Following these is a section on Shakespeare performance in the 19th and 20th centuries: beginning with a look at the 1849 Astor Place riots in New York, pitting rabid fans of the American Shakespearean actor Edwin Forrest against supporters of the English actor Charles Macready.  The outcome wasn’t pretty.  Also ‘not pretty’ was the long-delayed and denied acceptance of Black actors in Shakespearean roles.  That history is traced from 19thcentury productions in blackface to the 1930’s “Voodoo Macbeth”, staged in Harlem with a totally Black cast, as part of the Federal Theater Project, and, proceeding even farther, to Black actors, like Earle Hyman as Hamlet, in Washington, D. C. productions, to a 2015 production of “American Moor” – a hard look at the racism experienced by Black actors. at the Anacostia Playhouse in Washington.  Elsewhere in the exhibit hall is a section on Paul Robeson and his contributions to Shakespeare’s universal appeal.     

 

The second area of the Shakespeare Hall – called “Tellers and Tales” – highlights Shakespeare’s plays as performed around the world, from his time to the present. Here you will find a selection of objects identified with Shakespeare’s plays, including a playbill for the 1853 “winter season” of the Royal Arctic Theatre, a company of players aboard the H. M. S. Resolute in the Arctic, looking for Sir John Franklin’s lost expedition. You may also examine Cleopatra’s snake girdle, worn by the Polish actress, Madame Modjeska, in a late 19thcentury production of Antony and Cleopatra; a copy of Macbeth in Yiddish, for a 1904 production; the shooting script for the 1944 film of Henry V, starring Sir Laurence Olivier, a porcelain of Charlotte and Susan Cushman as Romeo and Juliet, and scores of other prompt books, sketchbooks and ephemera from many, if not all, of the plays.

 

A part of the expanded space is devoted to the Folgers’ own collecting philosophy and approaches, including Emily Folger’s invaluable contributions to the collection.  Nearby is another exhibit, called “The Folger Collecting”, which shows various items collected by the Library since the deaths of the Folgers.  

 

One cannot ignore the role the Folger has played in book and manuscript conservation; research into the history and provenance of objects in the collection and transcription of manuscripts by staff and docents. These are also addressed here, along with the long history of the Folger’s commitment to the education of the public about Shakespeare and his works.  Several generations of the Folger editions of the plays, narrative poems and sonnets of Shakespeare (including Folger teaching aids) are on display, and the philosophy behind them explained.    

 

Despite extensive renovations, many aspects of the Folger Shakespeare Library remain familiar.  The exterior façade, for example, designed by Paul Philippe Cret, was not modified.  Between the two doors on the north side are the tall grilled windows that overlook the original public exhibition space – the Great Hall . Today, the Great Hall houses a newly-added café. Bas-reliefs by John Gregory, beneath the windows, depict scenes from several of the plays, and the east garden is graced with a fountain featuring the familiar statue of Puck. 

 

The interior of the Library, prior to the renovation, was in the style of 17th century England, and the Great Hall, the Reading Room and the Elizabethan Theater retain that look.  As a 1937 Guidebook to Washington, prepared by the Federal Writers’ Project said:

 

“The exhibition gallery (Great Hall) is a great paneled hall of exceptional dignity and scale.  The high, vaulted ceiling is elaborately decorated with strapwork designs in plaster relief; the tile mosaic floor and the wooden grilled doors, with their rich carvings, bear the arms of Elizabethan England (on the east end), and of the United States (on the west end).” 

 

The theatre remains, at first glance, much the same. Its improvements are less obvious than in other areas. Lighting and seating have been improved, and aspects of the stage and dressing areas are being considered for further improvement. 

 

Finally, the Reading Room remains essentially unchanged.  Again, from 1937:

 

“The Reading Room …is designed in the manner of a traditional English great hall.  It has a high hammer-beam ceiling hung with three bronze chandeliers.  Light enters through three large bays along the south wall (into which are laid coats of arms representing patrons of Shakespeare and others).  Light also enters through a large tracery window at the west end: a reproduction of a church window at Stratford-on-Avon.  The stained glass window depicts the Seven Ages of Man, and is the work of Nicoloa D’Ascenzo…On the north wall is a stone-canopied fireplace set with marble inlays.  At the east end, a hall screen, with a reproduction of the Shakespeare memorial from Trinity Church at Stratford-on-Avon, forms a frame to the entrance of the Folger burial crypt.  The east doorway is flanked by portraits of Mr. and Mrs. Folger (by society painter Franklin Salisbury.) “ 

 

The Reading Room is still reserved for registered researchers, but research opportunities are open to the wider spectrum of those interested in Shakespeare, his works, his time, and theater from his time to the present.

 

Whether or not you have visited the Folger Shakespeare Library in the past, this reincarnation is well worth another visit. There are books you have never seen before, there are things you may never see again. There will be new ways to think about what you have always known, and a change in perspective that makes everything new. Come see what has changed: perhaps it will be you.



 

 

For Peggy

 

 

In an ordinary world, be extraordinary,

be anything but commonplace.

Deny the drab and dreary,

the routine and run-of-the mill.

Stay fresh and unpredictable

--the antidote to boring—

be decidedly unconventional.

Stoop to a child;  

share a stage with a Queen.

Recast the everyday,

upset the familiar,

change this average world

to a new place, a better place.

Bring it to life as you do

in so many ways..

 

In a prosaic world, be a poem,

and amid this wealth of mediocre poets,

the ‘it will do’s and the ‘good-enough’s

you are, and will continue to be

a Shakespeare.

Friday, March 22, 2024

Lunch with Friends

Lunch with Friends


Twenty years, thirty years, forty years, and more...

how did we find each other, find our place?

Different meetings, different circumstances,

chance encounters, different people, actually..

Yet, here we sit...

again around a table, 

sharing again the day-to-day

along with our lunch:

our past, our present,

our speculations and expectations

for our futures.

And yet..

None of that compares to

this friendship, this here and now:

here where we sit.

Tuesday, February 6, 2024

Alone

 Alone

 

The rain sifts down from the gray-feathered skies

and I walk on earth as if through clouds.

On the street, misty strangers pass

without acknowledgment,

intent on unknown destinations, 

wrapped in their waterproof cocoons,

behind umbrella shields, 

heads bent, collars turned, 

shoulders sprinkled with the diamond-dust

of not-quite-rain.

Unremarked, I wander on, 

in trenchcoat and fedora,

myself a solitary shadow,

silently slipping 

across the border of 

reality and dreams.

 

 


 

 

Birds

 

The chatter outside my door 

calls me, and I glance outside: 

dozens of small brown chirpers,

gathered and gossiping

like a choir awaiting 

the tap-tap-tap of a baton:

there, in my tree,

waiting to perform.

My fountain’s warm-up music

tinkles in the background

and the susurration of the leaves

sounds the orchestral prelude.

I stand at the window

waiting to applaud.

 

 

Anticipation: Sandy

 Anticipation: Sandy

 

Ready! Set!

But we're not going, yet.

The 24/7 Cassandras

with all their techno-toys

predict a big one:

the biggest, strongest,

highest, lowest, most destructive,

longest, widest, tallest

monster wind and wave

extravaganza.

An epic storm, a perfect storm,

a storm of the barely-begun

century.

Board up your windows, 

batten the hatches, 

raid the markets

and lock up your daughters!

Stock up on water, find your flashlights,

and where are the batteries?

Gas up your car, and tie down the cat.

Charge and charge again

electronic devices that govern your lives.

Pack your bags; prepare to run.

 

Is this what we've become?

Masters of the universe,

but fearful of the wind? 

There's not enough tree for our ornaments now, and there are boxes of lights and stuffed animals and Santas that will not see the light of day this year. Christmas dinner may not be turkey because there are always leftovers, and we won't have time to consume them. We are leaving for California on the 27th, and Christmas must be put away before we leave. After all, who wants to come home to a Christmas tree in March?

So many of the things that made our house Christmas Central in the past have been curtailed, have not been attempted, have disappeared from the list of December to-dos. No party (which drove me crazy for 25+ years, but now, brings on waves of nostalgia.) No eggnog. No boxes and cans brimming with Christmas cookies. No mountain of presents under the tree. No midnight services, replete with carols and candlelight. No shopping at the mall, or wandering down King Street, on the prowl for stocking gifts. It's just not the same.

The parties are still there--but complicated by the calculus of lengthy drives to unfamiliar locations, and night vision that seems to be getting worse. Sometimes, we just decide that we have longer recovery times than we used to. Shopping has been curtailed by the tempting ease of the internet--and Amazon. Who wouldn't trade the parking, the crowds, the endless lines at counters for midnight ordering and next-day pickup at the UPS store? I miss the baking, but...no one drops in over the holidays anymore, and diabetic proscriptions can only be ignored every so often. They can't withstand that onslaught of cookies.

Some things stay the same. There is always Christmas Eve with my family--though there are missing people who call in to the festivities. There is always an outrageous gift or two in the mix of the present-opening. Santa Dave appears for the little ones, though there are fewer of them than there used to be.






O Christmas Tree

 Now that Thanksgiving is past, it's time to move on to the great American pastime of putting away all the pumpkins and autumn colors, wind up all the things we are thankful for (Biden! Biden! Biden!) and drag out the millions of boxes of Christmas we've had stacked in the attic, garage, under the bed, in the storage space, and in the random desk drawer or dresser or closet, where they hide and breed throughout the year. Somehow we always end up with more than we put away last year. A mystery for the ages.

It will be a lightweight Christmas this year. Four of us, if we are lucky. Kay and Paul and the granddaughters were planning a trip, but, like so many others, decided to stay put and not risk a major cross-country trip. So we 'old folks'--the vulnerable and at risk--are hanging memories on the tree this year. 

Which is easy to do: every ornament has a story or a place or a circumstance that sets it apart. I need a couple more years decorating the tree with granddaughters to tell them all. We have ornaments from places we've visited (a Pinocchio from Italy, a reindeer fur elf from Russia, a pewter heart-with-a-horse from Germany). We have mementos of places we've lived (our star was from Tijuana when we celebrated in San Diego), family events (there's that Raggedy Ann from LaJolla the year Kay was born). 

The fact that there is no tinsel is a testament to our cats over the years, one of whom actually ate tinsel and walked around with it--undigested-- trailing from his butt afterwards...Instead of that gross tinsel experience, we have tin icicles (from Chadd's Ford in Pennsylvania) and chandelier prisms from a little consignment shop in Springfield, where the proprietor asked what in the world I was going to use them for... There's the tunafish can Santa being kissed by Mrs. Santa: my creation for our first Christmas tree. Regrettably, the cookie ornaments from that tree--camels, trees, our first cat-- have crumbled throughout our history--but I can still remember sharing the backseat of JC's Ford Torino with that immense tree that protruded from windows in all directions on our way home. 

And then, there are all the additions over the years from friends and neighbors and relatives: the brass ornaments from the Rogersville Presbyterian Church that were given out--engraved with names and the year--to all children of the church, and were picked up religiously by JC's mother for our girls. There are historic Alexandria and White House, and Mt. Vernon ornaments, and relics of my ceramics phase, where I painted not only an entire Nativity set, but Santa ornaments for each of the girls, where the old gentleman was inscribing their names in his book, followed by gold stars. And even if there was no precipitating event, there are the ornaments chosen by Kay and Sarah over the years on shopping trips to various malls and Hallmark stores and Christmas shops. I am still surprised at how many places and occasions I remember as we trim the tree. 

Robert the Bruce is there, in honor of the Scottish sojourn of Kay and family. There's Queen Elizabeth, who commemorates our tenure as Folger Shakespeare Library docents. We have kindergarten ornaments (the mouse in the matchbox) and a clothespin soldier presented to me by Jason, one of my high school students, never to be forgotten. There are ornaments painted by my mom--the scallop-shell angel--and Washington memorabilia from that phase of our lives. When was the last time you saw the Lincoln Memorial on a tree?

I have favorites, of course: the fragile antique glass ornaments from my godmother's tree, the few from our tree as I grew up, including a replica of the tacky 1950's era turquoise (really?!) plastic-and-glitter spinner ornament whose metal blade spun when hung above a warm Christmas light. We have a courthouse from JC's case in Illinois, a plastic Max--my favorite character from How the Grinch Stole Christmas. The angel at the top was a gift from my dear friend, Sharon Gaddis; there are innumerable Santas--and a mesquite-wood star, acquired at Kay and Paul's wedding venue. Alexandria is represented by yearly ornaments, as is the White House. When I remembered to buy one. There's even a glass pickle, a gift from Sandy Austin who died far too soon. I have cats, and snowmen, and s'mores, a few sturdy cookie ornaments from 1973--is the camel still there? and Murphy, a freehand cat cookie?--a felt frog from Chicago's Watertower Place, picked up at a weekend Christmas party sponsored by Seyfarth, Shaw, and a Wedgwood angel that Kay and Sarah bought one year on an outing with their babysitter. 

Noah's Ark? It's there. Along with a bear in a tricorn hat, just because he was so cute. And of course, George Washington. And a professor, aiming his pointer at a map. And now we've added ornaments from our granddaughters.  And we still laugh over the tin ornaments from Tijuana, especially the shepherd whose crook looks incredibly like a hockey stick.

Our decorations have dwindled over the years, largely due to our recent exodus to California immediately after the holiday. Everything we put up has to be packed away before we depart, unless we want to be greeted in March with the detritus of the holidays. However, even with the tree finished, there are boxes remaining: stuffed animals who hang about the stairway railing with big red bows on their necks, waiting for Santa; a china cupboard full of silver and crystal, sporting red and silver Christmas balls to look a little more festive; all my sugars and creamers lined up on the mantel with sprigs of pine and holly, Christmas linens on the table, and greens wherever I can fit them.

I still need a wreath for the door, but the Farmers' Market is usually good for that. And my BIG Santas--the ones that I bought year by year--one each--to stand on tables around the house. One would think that I could distribute some of these things to other family households, but they aren't having any. Perhaps we have scared them off with our yearly moaning that we just don't have enough storage space. But who could throw away Claire's handprint on an ornament from 2011? What brand of heartlessness could consign a single brass ornament to the trash? Or the chandelier prisms that have provided the sparkle on our tree (since our cat ownership precluded tinsel!)?

It is just a tree--even a fake tree nowadays. But it's more. In a way, it's our life, our memories hanging there. I may be the only one left who remembers them all, but every year, I tell the stories to any one who will listen.








Six Dozen Years Plus Three

 

SIX Dozen Years PLUS THREE

 

 

If I could pack the years in dozens,

safe in a cardboard box like eggs,

instead of blowing out candles,

I would open a carton of years:

the first dozen for the basics--

cracking shells, making messes,

and being coddled.

Humpty-Dumpty years.

 

I’d scramble the next dozen

with education and its ingredients:

testing the spice of life,

tasting and savoring it all,

finally on my own,

but sometimes missing

that snug cardboard nest—

worried I might break.

 

The third dozen years

are all in one basket:

deviled by home and family and

being in charge of everything,

whether I wanted to be or not.

wanting occasionally to crawl

back into a carton, a basket, a nest:

anywhere I could sleep…

 

I open the fourth dozen

with hesitant, careful hand..

new identities—not just mom,

or chauffeur or cook—

cautious rediscovery of who I am,

a panoply of Easter egg

resurrections, there for the taking,

in all their rainbow colors.

 

Five could be the magic number:

 the rounded years, with all rough edges gone.

Smooth sailing, or

at least it should be.

A couple dozen short of a lifetime,

deliberately paced,

taking in the show,

marveling at the speed of transit.

 

 

 Dozens of precious fragile years…

sweet and flavorful, as filled with zest

as birthday cakes and picnics,

as Christmas mornings and Saturday breakfasts…

cracked and messy, scrambled, beaten,

whipped to froth or brought to souffle-heights,

six dozen (plus three) irreplaceable years,

 and the 7th yet to come.

 

 

--Mary McElveen--

 


 

 

  

The Accident

 The Accident

 

They replaced the sign today at the intersection.

The fire hydrant will take longer,

though not as long as it will take

to change her customary routes—

to the grocery store, the cleaners,

the doctor, the dentist,

to everywhere she goes—

in order to avoid that place.

Her car inevitably backs out of the driveway,

inevitably turns to the left,

to the inevitable turn at the corner

where she can go no longer,

where she would see the place where

the axis of her world changed.

 

She would see it happen again,

again the late-to-work speed of the oncoming car,

the desperate swerve, 

(her little boy)

the toppled car, the scream,

and the horribly silent moment

before the sirens.

 

In the morning, she walks the block

And touches the cold metal signpost

Instead of his warm cheek.