f Poems To, For, or About
The Michelsen Family of Brooklyn by Neil Michelsen Mother and Father: Enid and Stanley Children: Neil, Enid, Eric, Christine and Ingrid
Written between 1960 and 2014
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f Dedication To the Michelsen family of Brooklyn (My parents, brother and sisters) and To the Michelsen family of Connecticut (Violeta, Leandra and Kerry)
2015
The Michelsen Family
1958
1998
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f Preface I began writing at home in Brooklyn in 1960 when I just turned 17. That was the year my mother died at age 44 with my first poem being about her death. I continued writing through and including my years in the navy and after my discharge. Then there was an approximate 25 year gap in my writing between the early 1970s and late 1990s when I was focused on my career and bachelor years living in New York City and Rio de Janeiro, travelling, getting married and starting a family and working 7 ½ years renovating our 1894 home in Connecticut. I started out writing traditional style poetry but then gravitated to blank verse. Many of my poems are like poetic chronicles or essay as they record my observations, feelings and experiences. The poems in this volume relate to me, my mother and father, my brother and sisters and other family members. Since they were written from my own perspective they may not reflect the perspective of others, but I hope they generally do. Some poems represent emotional lows that were written for emotional release and may even take the form of private confessions. Many are heavy, personal and serious which reflect the somewhat introspective side of my nature and personality. A number reflect some of the events of my younger, delinquent and wilder days before I settled down. I thought about excluding certain poems that were not well written, were too personal or revealing or that talked about my youthful indiscretions but decided to include them for completeness which I hope any readers will take into account.
I apologize if any offense is taken with anything I’ve written as that was not my intent. Also, since these poems were not professionally edited, I apologize for any deficiencies in poetic form and for any grammatical, typographical or spelling errors. The poems in this volume go up through 2014. Those written after 2014 are included in subsequent volumes. The poems are presented in the chronological order in which they were written. Also, those which I considered to be the better ones, based on their poetic value, subject matter or personal meaning to me, are indicated with an asterisk. In the back of this volume is some family tree information that might be helpful when reading certain poems. An index of all my poems, including those herein, is presented in a separate Master Index volume. It is my hope that these poems, along with my other personal works (i.e. my journals, books and other writings; music compositions; family movies and photo albums; paintings; and various collections and memorabilia) will serve as my legacy and mark in life as well as a personal inheritance to my family.
f Table of Contents No Title Preface 1. Mom’s In A Cold, Cold Grave * 2. The Vision 3. Rooms Of Thought 4. What’s The Use? − Mother Is Gone * 5. Blue 6. My Grandfather’s Death 7. A Train To Washington 8. Something Made A Long Time Ago 9. Something Set By Him 10. On Him Again 11. Father, What Have You Done? * 12. My Father’s Aging * 13. Mother’s Day * 14. Age Is A High, High Hill 15. He Was Right But Also Very Wrong * 16. I Am My Mother’s Orphan * 17. Why Did My Mother Have To Die On Me? * 18. I Didn’t Hug Him So Convincingly * 19. I Had To Sit A Spell 20. He Called Me His Hero 21. Ghost Stories About My Mother And Father 22. I Heard Him Crying Down The Hall * 23. And Then There Was One 24. Standing In Their Empty Room 25. All Chances All Used Up * 26. My Father’s Sweater * 27. The Prosecution And Defense 28. I Have Become My Father * 29. The Classics 30. He Also Said Goodbye * 31. I Don’t Know How He Did It 32. Don’t Let The Rift Repeat Itself 33. You’re Never Appreciated In Your Own Home Town
Pg 1 3 10 11 12 13 15 17 19 21 23 25 27 29 31 34 37 38 42 44 46 53 55 59 63 65 67 69 71 73 76 78 80
34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68. 69. 70. 71. 72. 73. 74. 75.
A Little Boy Rejected By The Priests * If They Were Any Source Of Discontent I May Regret I Didn’t Do Enough I Saw It In Your Face I’m So Lucky For My Brother And My Sisters A New Relationship With My Father * Your Open Bravery * My Wild Bachelor Days The Guillotine Collision At Sea Transported To The Past * My Old Neighborhood And Classroom Running Away From Home The Duck Dinner That I Missed I’m Luckier Than My Father Was I Saw The World When I Was Bulletproof You Did Make A Difference In My Life * Scuff Marks On The Kitchen Cabinets Just Barely * Changing History * Role Models A Good Dump My Image Of Retirement What A Mouth He Had On Him You Don’t Deserve This All Out Of Sequence * Welcome Back Chris When We Danced At Your Wedding * Man Hugs While You’re At It The Fourth Dimension No, I’m More Than A Little Depressed That New Year’s Eve Call * Mind Games My Family Is Dying Before Me Pictures Of The Five Of Us * A Hole Overfilled “Can You Get It?” My Father’s Old New Shoes Bring It On Like Father Like Son Still Filling Up My Little Books
82 85 86 88 89 92 94 98 102 105 113 118 131 135 140 144 148 152 154 165 169 176 178 181 189 191 194 198 200 203 207 211 213 217 219 220 227 229 232 235 236 239
76. 77. 78. 79. 80. 81. 82. 83. 84. 85. 86. 87. 88.
Stealing Cars If I Had A Mother Trespassing In Brazil “Eat The Chocolate” That Little Red Circle Of Blood A Thousand Soldiers Must Die The Shoe Polish Solution Cruel Tradeoffs Throwing That Ball Of Clay In The Air “Sorry Richie” “All’s Well That Ends Well” Shoveling Coal And Hanging Out The Clothes “You Don’t Understand, Neil” Family Tree Information
* Most favored based on their poetic style, subject matter or personal meaning to me. *****
240 246 248 250 252 254 256 257 259 262 265 267 269
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Poems of Neil Michelsen
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Mom’s In A Cold, Cold Grave * (To My Father) 8-1-1960 My mother’s early death was hard on the family but especially hard on my father. ______ 1. Oh God, please tell me why You took the sun down from his sky For I cannot bear to see my father there In his early and undeserved despair? Mom’s in a cold, cold grave. 2. He lived his life with her for 22 years But now what’s left for him is only sorrow and tears. Oh God, oh God, please help this man In any way You can! Mom’s in a cold, cold grave. 3. When he plays the piano his music is drained of any hope For only broken dreams remain for him with which to cope. As he runs his fingers across the keys He stares out blankly at what I can only guess he sees. Mom’s in a cold, cold grave.
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4. He turns to me, with his teary eyes downcast And says, “I now only live in the past And for me there’s no longer any dawn For my life’s all through, now that your mother’s gone.” Mom’s in a cold, cold grave. 5. He visits the gravesite of her final rest − A cold and dreary place where he stands with sunken chest − A place where the clouds hang low and the trees are bare And gruesome gray shadows are everywhere. Mom’s in a cold, cold grave. 6. There he stands with his shoulders stooped and his head hung low Where his tears turn cold as the icy winds blow And bite and chill him to the bone And tell him that this is now her new home. Mom’s in a cold, cold grave. 7. And as he looks up at the dim lit sky He asks God just one question, “Why, Why God, couldn’t You have just let things be And not taken this dearest one from me?” Mom’s in a cold, cold grave. *****
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y The Vision (On My Dead Mother) 10-13-1960 My dead mother appeared to me one night soon after her death. (The 22 verses represent the 22 years she and Dad were married.) (Adapted from an essay.) _____ 1. I don’t remember the date exactly But it was on a night in the early fall of 1960 When it occurred − One of the strangest experiences of my life − The night my dead mother Who had passed away last July Came and spoke to me On one scary autumn eve. 2. It was a cool, lonely, and penetrating night. I had just come out of the movies with a friend of mine And was on my way home When I sensed a strange feeling Coming over me.
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3. It was a still and present air of eeriness That imparted an unknown And indescribable mood in me – Thinking clearly Yet somewhat confused − Joyful Yet at the same time sad − Confident Yet fearful and suspicious. I hadn’t noticed the sky then But would later on. 4. When I got home I went to my father’s room And said good-night. Then I went to my room, undressed, and laid down And turned the radio on low. My brother, Eric, was asleep. 5. As I laid down I looked out of my window and up at the sky And what it held Was something that astounded me. I turned the radio off And looked again for a second time. Yes! Truly! There it was – It was my dead mother’s face!
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6. Think me crazy or delusional But by all that’s holy I swear It was my mother that I saw. I’m not saying that she was physically there But supernaturally She was surely there. 7. I remember the clouds were all broken up And looked like chunks of ice All about the same size And evenly distributed Floating on a cold black sea. They were bright white in color With a gradual darkening at their jagged edges As they met the black and sea-like sky. 8. The moon was over to the left Making the right side of the clouds Almost completely black. She stared at me. 9. Bounded by bewilderment and fear I fixed my eyes on her ghostly image. She had a worried expression on her face As she swayed in her ethereal position in the sky.
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10. I was scared And my stomach felt like a pit of butterflies. I couldn’t think clearly. My eyes were fixed on her As I frowned at her frightening Yet calming face. 11. I questioned myself, “What did it mean?” “What did she want?” 12. Then, she began to move. She began to float in that cold autumn sky − Up and down, left and right − As if she were In some spherical orbit − As if she were A puppet of God. Then she steadied And began to approach me. 13. I felt like bursting into tears. I tried but couldn’t. Suddenly Without realizing it at first I became aware That my mind was clogged with thoughts As if someone was tuning in on me.
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14. Someone with unknown powers − Powers of telepathy − Was communicating with me. I became more terrified than ever! I wanted to get up and run away! I searched her face And saw that her lips were moving Slowly and smoothly. 15. In time She was right beside my bed Standing over me. My heart was in my throat. She spoke these words As best as I can remember: “Neil, be good and change your ways. Neil, please be good.” She uttered these words Over and over again. 16. I tried to answer But her words Just kept coming back at me Again and again.
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17. I hit my pillow and turned away Hoping she’d be gone Yet hoping she’d remain For this was the most frightening But also The most mysterious thing I had ever experienced. 18. When I looked back Her eyes were still on me But this time Her image was not as clear as it was before. She began to fade and fade some more As she began to ascend back up into the sky again As slowly and deliberately as she had come Still whispering those same words of warning – The words of love and counsel to her son. Oh, those words How profound and penetrating they were! 19. Then she was gone. It were as though God had called her back Telling her that her time was up And she had to return To her place in Heaven somewhere.
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20. I remember having timed the vision At 20 minutes − From 1:05 to 1:25 am − But it seemed like Only a few short minutes. 21. As I lay there With the emptiness that followed So many thoughts raced through my head − All too confused and complicated To be written down then. 22. Her vision lingered in my mind Keeping me scared and awake For some time afterwards. But slowly My eyes grew heavy And eventually I fell asleep. *****
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y Rooms Of Thought (On Dad) 11-25-1962 About the restrictions my father placed on me. _____ 1. Into the next day, by half an hour I dwell alone in my solitary rooms of thought With no one to know, see or hear, the sour And the bitter things that my mind has caught And snagged itself on in this lonely dead-night hour. 2. One thing that pains my heart so much And is so sensitive to the slightest touch Is my father’s harsh reactions and overbearing ways on me Which saddens everything I do and so often deeply angers me. *****
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What’s The Use? − Mother Is Gone * (On My Mother) 7-12-1963 Remembering Mom and missing her. _____ 1. I came upon a little paper fragment On which my poor dead mother had once wrote. And while looking at that simple script I saw much more than what was written on it. I saw disquieting images from the Past unpent Themselves, and stand before me wearing Sorrow’s heavy cloak. 2. I used to see her sitting at the kitchen table praying – Praying the rosary as she did each day − Praying for indulgences from Above For all her children and all the family who she so dearly loved. My mind went back in time that day − Back to when I was all too young and self-indulged To fully appreciate everything she was. 3. But what’s the use to dwell on her memory and this sad affair For she’s gone away forever to some vast Abyss somewhere − Gone away forever from me her eldest and now empty son − Lost to me forever − this precious only one. *****
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y Blue 1-4-1964 On a very cold winter’s day, I was struck by the very bright blue sky that I saw from my father’s car while going to the walk-up tenement apartment/studio of an artist/painter named Nelke from whom my father occasionally bought paintings that he hung in the house, some of which I now have in my house. He was an old, almost crippled Norwegian who lived on Pacific Street in a poor and rough section of Brooklyn just barely eking out a living selling his paintings. (I wrote this poem on the edge of my dresser after coming home.) _____ 1. While looking out the window of my father’s car On this cold and icy day All the brown and gnarly branches of the winter trees Seemed like they were painted on a canvas sky of blue. 2. All the clouds were brilliant white And looked like giant icebergs Sailing high across the sharpest brilliant blue Of any sky that I had ever seen. *****
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My Grandfather’s Death (On Grandpa Hackett) 5-12-1964 I took leave from the navy to attend the funeral of my kind, softspoken, maternal grandfather, John F. Hackett, Sr., at St. Vincent Ferrer’s Church in Brooklyn where I attended grammar school. _____ 1. The prayers and bells of Death much sorrow bring And the rhythmic Latin chants of the priests evoke In me the darkest feelings I have ever known Rising up to meet the soul I now bemoan. No sadder sorrows or emotions in me have ever been awoke Than when those doleful priestly chants were sung And the heavy church bells did loudly ring. 2. Oh, how those death-songs plummet my heart and soul into grief And how the black-garbed choir voices so deep in me do resonate. How easily they rise up, these choking sorrows Inside of me, bringing with them all their latent woes. And how those mournful waves of lamentations plait Themselves around my heart in ever-tightening weaves.
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3. Although enough sadness had already pervaded the church When I saw the 6 pall bearers assemble around the casket’s place More hidden vaults within me were wrenched wide open Allowing even greater and deeper sorrows to irrupt − And even more so, when I looked into his death-mask ashen face. 4. Oh Sorrow and Despair, how you make my bankrupt heart race With pain, and show me not an ounce of pity As you tauntingly parade yourselves before me. Farewell, Grandpa, and may you find that restful promised place That for all your life you believed existed somewhere in eternity. *****
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y A Train To Washington (On Dad) 3-7-1965 Written on a train returning to my ship the USS Loeser (DE 680) in Washington DC after a visit home and another argument that I’d normally have with my father. _____ 1. Roll! Roll! Roll on you rescue train And take me from my home − Far! Far! Far away again Take me from my home. 2. Fast! Fast! Fast you must Take me from this place Where never was there any trust At least that I could ever trace. 3. Please! Please! Please I plead That whenever I come home I’ll be spared the sorry need To flee in haste from my father, my very own.
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4. Hang! Hang! I hang my head Awaiting every scathe. “Weren’t you the fool to come back home?”, to myself I said, “Is it sorrow that you always crave?” 5. Fly! Fly! Fly steel engine, fly! Put your gifting miles between my home and me to ease my pain. Let me hear those beating click-clack sounds continue to reply Marking the relieving distance you now give me, my rescue train. *****
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y Something Made A Long Time Ago (On My Father) 4-23-1968 Something sadly made permanent. _____ 1. I saw a man last night Who looked just like my father And who made my eyes brim with tears For just like my father, he too looked sad and broken. 2. I saw my father in this man But absent all his polarizing sensitivities Which stirred up in me a sympathetic and pining kind of love That I sadly never had with my own father. 3. How sad it is that I could never seem to put aside The hurt, anger and frustration that I’ve always had towards him. How come I just can’t let love out of its cage Which is banging on the bars begging for release? How sad and ironic it is That I could only generate such tender feelings for my father Indirectly through the catalyst of a stranger But not directly through and to my father himself.
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4. Oh, this twisted, sad and confusing thing − Although it always feels like something painfully new It’s been with me for as long as I can remember And something that was made A long, long time ago. *****
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y Something Set By Him (On My Father) 9-21-1968 If my mother had lived she might have eased some of the tension between my father and me. _____ 1. As he walked around the house He’d sometimes look at me Pleading, it seemed For some measure of response, recognition or love from me. While in many ways It was hard for me to give him what he wanted In other ways it was even harder to withhold it And hold it in. It was a tragic, stand-off and tense relationship that we had. 2. As he passed me I’d often look away to avoid his eyes But I couldn’t avoid The deafening sounds of his footsteps That matched the pounding of my heart. I could always feel his presence Anywhere he was, or wasn’t And there was always this anxiety in the air.
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3. How sad is it That even when he’d go upstairs − I’d continue to hear the lingering sounds Of his angry and hurting footsteps Echoing in my heart – Echoing, echoing, echoing. 4. His dominating presence was always looming So much so that at times I wished That either he or I were dead − For both our sakes. 5. Was he the one Who made me so tense and jumpy, even now? Was it something that he had set in me A long, long time ago That makes me wish sometimes That we both had never been born? Or is it just me? More likely though It was probably a combination of the two. 6. At times I feel so empty and sorry That I don’t have my mother And her intervening love. Oh why did she have to die on me so soon? Why did she have to leave me here To handle him alone? ***** 20
y On Him Again (On Dad) 7-7-1969 More thoughts on our sad father and son relationship. _____ 1. When I think about him I could almost cry Knowing That I could never come and just talk to him Much less seek his comfort or his counsel. It was easier going to a stranger. 2. He made life difficult, unsettling and full of tension So much so that I believe My emotions never got the chance to settle down And form a calm, self-confident and proper personality. 3. Shall I blame it all on him? That would be the easy and the clever thing to do − To shift responsibility And gain some tempting sympathy for myself − But I know I share the blame.
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4. And although the consequences of his influence Were tragically imposing I never thought that he did anything on purpose. 5. Whatever the reasons were For things to be the way they are between us I’ll never know for sure. But what I do know is That it’s a sad, sad situation And probably just as hard on him As it is on me. *****
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y Father, What Have You Done? * (To Dad) 6-1-1997 Lamenting over the unfortunate relationship my brother, sisters, and I had with my father. _____ 1. Father, we have to ask you this painful question As to why you had to give us So many sorrows to wear? 2. With all the maturity and control you had back then Couldn’t you have chosen a better way to raise us? But maybe that’s too much Of an open and incriminating question to ask For we know You had a wealth of problems to deal with in your life. 3. Though the choices you had Might not have been so clear or easy to make Couldn’t you have at least anticipated a little better The hard effects they might have had on us And taken a different approach to avoid them? Couldn’t you have?
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4. But while you made it hard on us We’re sure the pent up love you had for us inside of you − But that was so hard for you to deliver − Made it equally hard Or even harder On you. 5. Though we cannot put the blame totally on you For what Life had unfairly burdened you with And made you handle all alone Our nagging wounds can’t help but ask, “Why father, why did you have to give us So many sorrows to wear?” *****
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My Father’s Aging * (To Dad) 9-21-1998 Had I been more perceptive about his aging I might have been more comfort to him before he died. _____ 1. I never saw my father getting old. We were both so lock-stepped in time That it wasn’t so apparent to me Just how much and how fast he was actually aging. 2. But when I looked back through all my photo albums I could see what I hadn’t seen before − Just how much he had been aging Throughout the years. 3 And only now, now that he’s gone, Do I realize how much I’d been distracted By all the fighting that we did And how I sadly missed so many chances to tell him How much I really loved him Which I know now Would have been the greatest gift to him.
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4. But in my defense What love was deep inside of me Was all contorted and confused And hard to recognize. It was a frightened love That was afraid to show itself And almost impossible to give. 5. I always thought that there would be Plenty of time and opportunity in our lives For peace and reconciliation to come. It never dawned on me That there was any urgency to this matter And that one day we might run out of time. 6. And so as Life would have it We did run out of time And unwittingly I let him walk his final miles alone All because I didn’t have The insight, foresight, maturity, charity, sensitivity or whatever To see my father aging − To see him dying − While it was actually happening. So now It’s sadly all too late for anything. *****
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Mother’s Day * (On My Mother) 5-9-1999 Feeling sad about not having a mother on Mother’s Day. _____ 1. Today, on Mother’s Day I have no mother’s eyes to look into Or a Mother’s loving eyes To look back at me. 2. Today on Mother’s Day I have no mother left to love Or to love me in return. 3. Oh Archer, take aim again At this here undeveloped heart of mine And finish up thy deed. 4. Words can never fair convey The wanting, absence, and disquiet Of a mother gone away.
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5. Oh Sorrow How cruelly you have carved a hole in me And what a dry and empty desert You have put me in. 6. Dear Sorrow Can I bargain with you For the anthem of my loss? Can I negotiate with you To have you fill back up The heart that you have emptied? 7. Dear Life and Sorrow Can you tell me what your motive was To have put this life-long curse on me? And what more do you want of me For haven’t I already given you My most precious gift − That of my one and only mother? *****
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y Age Is A High, High Hill (To Eric On His 50th Birthday) 3-25-2000 Written for my brother, Eric for his 50th birthday. (Read at his birthday party at Christine’s house.) _____ 1. It has gone so fast, hasn’t it? − All these years crammed all together? − As fast as “Bang-Zoom”, to quote Ralph Kramden Our folk hero of the Honeymooners. * 2. And remember Buffalo Bill, Howdy Doody and Clarabell? The Ed Sullivan Show? And Cecile and Beenie and Captain Video? * * all old TV shows 3. And remember those duck tails on the rowdy1950’s teens? And fins on cars and those tight, not “gansta”, jeans? 4. All these things have gone away with time Along with the subway ride for only a dime.
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5. Remember too, the room and bed We used to share in Brooklyn long ago And where we listened to the Barry Farber And the Gene Shepherd shows on late-night radio? 6. To embarrass you with your age I do not mean to do For as you know I’m right up there in age with you. 7. Do not lament your age Nor feel any fret of what it brings As you may be as happily surprised as I was When I reached age 50 some years ago For I saw some wonderful things From atop that high, high hill and vantage point called “age” And from where I got that panoramic view of Life That only comes with age. 8. So take comfort and relief And don’t think of yourself as getting older But rather just as going on ahead To scout things out for those who’ll follow you When they’re a little older. ~ Love, from your brother, Neil *****
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y He Was Right But Also Very Wrong * (On My Father) 5-3-2000 Reflections on the sad relationship with my father. _____ 1. After all the preliminary civilities were done We’d ultimately get stuck in some kind of fight That would create painful knots in our stomachs And lumps in our throats. That’s the way it always was With my father and us − But more so I think, with me. 2. Though his love was there And always at the ready He’d get snared in the trap Of his own unfortunate personality. 3. Although he loved us dearly His love got all hung up on his sensitivities So it often never saw the light of day. Sadly and regrettably He had an insurmountable difficulty In packaging and delivering All the love I know he had for us inside of him. 31
4. He just couldn’t let things go. He just couldn’t let things be But rather always had to judge and criticize Almost everything we did − Never for any malicious reasons I don’t think − But rather for only thinking that it was “For our own good.” In many ways he was right But in many ways He was also very wrong. 5. All too often he’d hold back his love Waiting for us to show it first. It was a kind of standoff − A tragic kind of standoff In which there were no winners. But that’s just the way it sadly was. 6. Though his love for us was there He painfully held it back On principle. It was a sort of hostage situation Where he held it back Waiting for us To be the first to blink − Waiting for us To pay the ransom. He held it back Until he was convinced That we “deserved” it.
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7. Sadly, that’s the way things were. In many ways he was right But in many ways He was also very wrong. *****
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I Am My Mother’s Orphan * 8-14-2000 Thinking about some possible effects of not having a mother. _____ 1. Yes, I had a mother − But she died on me Early in both our lives. So now I am my mother’s orphan The effects of which I’ll never fully know But most certainly can feel. 2. I missed having a mother To care for me In my early and formative years And for me to care for her In her later and dependent years. All that mother’s love Lost to an orphaned son. And all that pent up love inside of me With no mother to give it to. I am my mother’s orphan son.
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3. So with no mother’s love To learn from or to practice with When it comes to love It’s sometimes hard for me to give. With no mother’s love to trust my feelings to I’ve never learned to trust so much As I might have otherwise. 4. I trusted once before When I trusted Life with my mother’s life But it broke that trust. 5. So now When it comes to love It’s hard for me to trust so much again And I often have to crudely guess about such things And just how I should proceed. With no mother’s love at the beginning of my story How can I expect a happy ending? 6. When it comes to love and security And all the other agents of my personality I may not be so secure or well developed as I should. This is what I’ve heard and read about − And been told about myself by others.
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7. View me through this magnifying glass − Here, look, I’ll even hold it up for you − And tell me what you see And more so What you don’t see. 8. What would a mother’s love have done for me? This is what I always ask myself − Just as others have. *****
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y Why Did My Mother Have To Die On Me? * (A Young Boy’s Question) 8-14-2000 A fragment of a longer piece about a boy losing his mother. _____ 1. When lying down in his bed at night He’d have trouble sleeping And would often stare into the darkness of his room. 2. He was all too young to be starring through the dark. He was all too young to be listening to a racing heart As loud as someone pounding on a wall. 3. Sometimes he’d almost want to cry, “Why don’t I have a mother like all the others do? Why don’t I have a mother to tuck me in at night And sing me fast asleep? Why did my Mother have to die on me?” 4. He always held those questions deep inside of him Just as he did with all his tears − He always held them in − At least mostly always. *****
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I Didn’t Hold Him So Convincingly * (On Dad) 10-25-2000 An incident with my father grieving over my mother’s death where I possibly could have been more responsive. _____ 1. My father was so much in love with my mother. She was his everything And the only one who really understood him And who loved him for himself. So when she died He lost everything. 2. Death embezzled her from him Slowly and painfully And right before his eyes Leaving him with a bankrupt heart From which he never recovered. 3. The more he reached out To grasp her frail and outstretched hand The more it faded and slipped away from him.
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4. He felt her every pain. And out of love for her He might have felt it even more than she − Just in a different way. 5. It broke his heart and sunk his soul When slow, like torture, she died on him. And when she died, he died too Right there next to her. 6. He thought about her every day And frequently visited her grave Where he’d stare down through the ground at her As if she were still alive and looking up at him For now, this was the only way he had to be close to her And all that he had left of her. 7. With five children to raise alone I’m sure that he was tempted On more than one occasion To end his hopeless life, To drown himself in drink, Or to run away and leave us on our own. We worried and we waited But he never did.
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8. So attached was he to her That when she died He was truly set adrift And in many ways So were we. 9. He looked for comfort From his children − The only living part of her That he had left. 10. I remember one night He sat down next to me And sobbing softly Held me And asked me to hold him back. I was uncomfortable and confused For I wasn’t used to things like that. 11. Though I did it I’m not sure I did it − So convincingly. Was it adequate enough? Or was it only something half-hearted And something that made him feel Even more alone and empty inside?
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12. When I think about it now I could have held him Harder, longer and more convincingly. Even though he’d caught me by surprise And I wasn’t used to things like that I felt I should have given him just a little more − And a little more convincingly − For his sake then And for my sake now. *****
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y I Had To Sit A Spell (On Stella And My Brother And Sisters) 10-26-2000 The views that others have of us. _____ 1. I had heard That my brother and sisters Had looked up to me in some ways: As their elder brother, The most educated, The naval officer, The professional, The businessman, The most traveled, The most adventurous, And the most financially well off. 2. But what I didn’t know or think about Was what other views they might have had of me Until my girlfriend, Stella, Told me some of them.
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3. While they said that I was all those things That I had mentioned They also said That I was: Different, Was moody, Had a temper, Was a little wild, And took a lot of risks. Among other things. 4. While nothing I heard About that other view of me Was really very bad or shocking I had to admit That I was caught a little off-guard And had to sit a spell to digest it all And reconcile myself a bit. 5. Sometimes we live in ivory and myopic towers Often never giving much thought As to how we’re perceived by others − Always making unconscious excuses For who we are and the things we do – And always painting self-imaging portraits of ourselves But never asking to see the portraits That others have painted. *****
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y He Called Me His Hero (On My Cousin Dennis Hackett) 7-21-2001 Being called a hero was flattering. _____ 1. My cousin Dennis called me on the phone And somewhere in the conversation He told me that I was his hero. 2. Though I was flattered His comment reminded me Of the other time that I was called a hero When my sister, Chris Selected a song for us to dance to at her wedding: “You Are The Wind Beneath My Wings” Which song contained the words: “Did you ever know that you’re my hero?” To think that she would think of me As her hero Touched me deeply.
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3. Although I’m not a hero By any stretch of the imagination It’s kind of nice To think that someone In some way Might think so. *****
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y Ghost Stories About My Mother And Father 7-27-2001 Five ghost stories told at lunch after the family visited my mother and father’s graves at Holy Cross Cemetery in Brooklyn. _____
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Mom’s Ghost Beside My Bed (As Told By Neil) 7-27-2001 This is an excerpt from a much longer poem that I had written in 1960, the year my mother died. _____ 1. One night, soon after my mother died I looked out of my bedroom window And saw my mother’s vision On a field of moon-lit clouds In the distant sky. 2. Slowly and silently She wafted into my room And stood beside my bed.
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3. And then Without uttering a word She spoke to me Imploring me to be good And to change my ways. After she had spoken She left As slowly and deliberately as she had come And vanished into the clouds. 4. For some time I laid there in my bed Trying to digest what I had just seen And asking myself If it was real or just a dream. But whatever it was I know it was the ghost Of my dear dead mother. *****
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Mom’s Ghost Comforting “Little Richie” (As Told By “Little Richie”) 7-27-2001 My mother’s ghost comforting her grandson. _____ 1. My nephew, “Little Richie” Had a bad car accident In a remote industrial section of Brooklyn. 2. There wasn’t anyone around to help him And he thought that he would die there Alone and trapped in his car. He then said A woman came up to his car Reached in Held his hand And told him That everything would be all right. 3. She held his hand Until the police arrived Then slowly let it go.
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4. When he asked the police About the woman who had stayed with him They told him that there wasn’t any woman And that in fact he was alone. 5. He told us he was certain That it was my Mother Who had come to save his life − To save the life of her grandson Whom she had never met. *****
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Mom’s Ghost Checking On The Kids (As Told By Chris) 7-27-2001 My father always felt my mother’s presence in the house until the day he died. _____ 1. Those who ever slept over our house in Brooklyn After my mother died Would often tell strangely similar stories About hearing eerie footsteps During the night. 2. And when the morning came They’d ask my father what those noises were Who would calmly reply With conviction in his eyes, “That was my wife, Enid Checking on the kids − Checking on her children.” *****
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Dad’s Ghost In Serina’s Room (As Told By Chris About Serina) 7-27-2001 My niece’s experience with my father’s ghost. _____ 1. My niece, Serina, Having just seen my father’s ghost Was frightened by it. 2. She said that when she looked at him He was all white And could see right through him. 3. She also said That when his spirit sensed That she was scared It slowly withdrew And disappeared. *****
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Mom’s Ghost At The Foot Of The Bed (As Told By Roseanna) 7-27-2001 Chris recited this story that my sister-in-law Roseanna told. _____ 1. While lying in her bed one night Roseanna was awakened By something that she sensed in the room. And when she opened her eyes She saw my mother’s ghost Standing at the foot of her bed. 2. Although she’d never met my mother She recognized her From some of the photographs That she had seen. 3. And when their eyes met My mother smiled Then slowly faded away. *****
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y I Heard Him Crying Down The Hall * (On Dad) 10-14-2001 Should I have been more comfort to my farther after my mother’s death? _____ 1. When my mother died She left my father alone and broken-hearted. And sometimes in the middle of the night When I was in my bed I could hear him crying down the hall. She had been his life. 2. Did the other four − My brother and my sisters − Hear him too? Or was it only me? Was I the only one Having trouble sleeping?
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3. After she died He never was the same. Life had cheated him. Life had brought him down − From the top to the bottom Almost all at once And from which he never recovered. 4. At night when I was in my bed I could hear him crying down the hall But didn’t − couldn’t – wouldn’t go to him. “There was really nothing I could do” − I guessed − I figured − I avoided − I convinced myself. 5. So I just listened in the dark Feeling helpless, guilty and sad About him, me, and everything. *****
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y And Then There Was One (To My Brother And Sisters) 11-29-2001 Since we were very close to each other, this may be the scenario of our passing away one by one. _____ 1. We were always so very close − My brother, sisters and I − All five of us. It was as though we were a single unit All equal and reinforcing to each other. It wasn’t Enid, Eric, Chris, Ingrid, or Neil. It was only “us.” We never really thought about it Any other way. 2. Then one day One of us died. Death had pierced our impenetrable circle − Death had penetrated our family circle. 3. A great fear came over us. For the first time Our protective ring had been broken. We were exposed and fragile now − Now that one of us was gone.
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4. We stared into the blackness of the night And saw the eyes of the monster Who had taken one of us – Our first − And who was now eying the next one. 5. It was the first time That we really thought about − About what could happen to us And what was up ahead. We were deeply frightened For now For the first time We felt both the fire and the ice of Death – The lightning strike Against one of us And the ice cold vacancy Of the one now missing. 6. The death of one of us Was a terrible shock. It was a fortress breached, A rape committed, A murder done. It was something That we just couldn’t reconcile.
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7. Death had paid us a visit Bringing along with her Her escorts of Pain, Sorrow and Fear. Death came empty handed But left with one of us As her prize. 8. No matter how we felt Nothing can be said against it Or done about it. It’s just the way things are In the System we are in. 9. We saw the sorrow in each other’s eyes And silently speculated About who would be the next − And the next one after that. 10. Over time It happened one by one Until only the fifth and final one of us remained Who was now waiting Empty-eyed, broken-hearted and alone − Waiting for the fifth and final dreaded death.
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11. The final one of us was hoping though That the other four were waiting Somewhere on the other side of Death. 12. I can only hope and pray That the Universe is built this way − Where when we die we’ll all be united again − The five of us – And can form a brand new circle That will never be broken again − Somewhere in another System On that other side. *****
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y Standing In Their Empty Room (To My Mother And Father) 1-7-2002 My parents left little to give me insight into them as individuals. (This poem is the theme of a book I drafted and will try to publish.) _____ 1. When my parents died I realized that I really only knew them As my mother and father − As my parents − But not as the individuals and people They also were. 2. Except for my own personal memories And perceptions of them I knew very little about them From their point of view − About their private lives, Their inner personal feelings, And their views about life and love − For they left nothing about these sort of things behind And sadly took all that with them To their graves.
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3. They never wrote anything personal about themselves − Not in any poems, diaries, notes or letters − Nothing about: Their feelings and emotions, Their joys and sorrows, The plans and worries that they had, Their views about the world in which they lived, Their hopes and wishes for me and themselves And so many other things About the life we shared together as a family. I was left to only guess about so many of those things. 4. So when they left I felt as though I’d been orphaned in a way. One minute I had everything of them And the next minute I had nothing. 5. I felt as though I had woken up one day And found their room completely empty. It were as though They’d slipped out in the middle of the night And took everything with them. 6. Had they not cared enough To even leave me a note? Were they that insensitive?
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7. More likely though They just never thought about it much And how valuable it might have been to me To have been left something personal About themselves. 8. Had they thought about it just a little more − Had they had a little more foresight − They might have left a little something And not taken everything with them To their graves. 9. By leaving something as simple as A few personal writings About themselves, the times they lived in, The experiences, feelings and emotions they had, And maybe even something personal about me, They could have avoided Leaving me naked on the church steps And saved me from the orphanage. 10. And by leaving something personal About themselves They could have avoided Putting this open and inadvertent hole in me.
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11. By leaving something personal about themselves They also could have had a chance To be better understood As well as had a chance For a modest bit of immortality − But they didn’t. 12. I’ve learned well From my parent’s “mistakes” In that leaving an empty room like they did Will not be one of my mistakes For when I pass away They’ll find my room Far from empty. *****
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y All Chances All Used Up * (On Dad And Kerry) 1-19-2002 I felt proud hearing Kerry play the piano which is probably how my father felt when he heard me play. _____ 1. I remember my father Listening from a distance While I clumsily Played the piano. 2. I never knew how proud he might have felt As he watched his son play Until I watched my son play. 3. To my father I’m sure my playing Was a proud pin-point of light In his dark and lonely night − A little respite From the mass of pain and disappointment in his life That he could take some pleasure in And some credit for.
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4. Knowing what I now know I wish that I could play for him again − But that’s not possible now And not a gift that I can ever give him again For all such chances Are all used up and gone. *****
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My Father’s Sweater * (On My Father) 2-8-2002 The possible symbolism of my wearing my father’s old sweater. _____ 1. I wear my father’s old Maroon knitted sweater now And wonder what symbolic meaning That may have. 2. We rarely got along when he was here And things were very tense between us. It was like waiting for a storm to break That always did. Our personalities would clash, Arguments would flash, And we’d always seem To touch each other’s nerves. 3. So with his passing And the wearing of his sweater Am I now in some unconscious way Trying to undo or compensate For all our past misunderstandings?
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4. Is the wearing of my father’s old maroon sweater Some kind of peace offering to him? An open and extended hand? The formal ending of hostilities? Reparation for damages done? Amnesty for crimes committed? A symbolic burying of the hatchet? A confession and absolution? 5. Is it a form of paying my last respects to him? − A kind of sad memorial to two old soldiers Who fought in the same war But on opposite sides? − A belated reconciliation That we sadly never could achieve While he was alive? 6. I don’t know exactly what it means But it’s probably a little bit of each. But what I do know is That it’s now a sad and weighty thing for me Knowing that our reconciliation Hadn’t come while he was alive And that all I have to offer him now Is the wearing of his old Maroon knitted sweater. *****
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y The Prosecution And Defense (Thank You For Defending Me) (On My Father) 2-19-2002 Two opposing views of my father and how he raised us. _____ 1. The Defense: “He shouldn’t be such a sorry and painful memory.” The Prosecution: “But how can we ignore the things he’s done.” 2. The Defense: “But, he loved us all, deep down under.” The Prosecution: “Then why was he so hard on us?” 3. The Defense: “It’s because he couldn’t show his love so well.” The Prosecution: “That’s no excuse for all the pain he caused.” 4. The Defense: “But he didn’t have that soft capacity to give.” The Prosecution: “But he should have tried harder, shouldn’t he?” 5. The Defense: “I think he hurt himself as much as anyone.” The Prosecution: “Two wrongs don’t make a right.”
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6. The Defense: “He never left us or took to drink when Mom died.” The Prosecution: “Yes, but he turned a lot of his pain on us.” 7. The Defense: “But we all came out OK, didn’t we?” The Prosecution: “Yes, but we did it, in spite of him.” 8. The Defense: “In my opinion, we should just forgive and forget.” The Prosecution: “You have your opinion and we have ours.” 9. My Father: “Thank you so much Defense, for defending me. But after hearing all the testimony, I have to say That both the Prosecution and you, my Defense Are equally correct.” *****
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y I Have Become My Father * 2-24-2002 As I age, I become more aware that I’m displaying many of my father’s characteristics. _____ 1. I remember when My father used to play the piano. And now when I play It crosses my mind That in a sense I’m now him − Grey hair and all − Playing on the very same piano. 2. I also notice something else − I sort of drag my feet Just like him. 3 And another thing I’ve noticed Is that after sitting for a while It’s hard for me to get up − As hard as it was for him.
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4. And when I walk I walk with a little waddle − His waddle. 5. And when I get angry And yell across the room I listen to my echoes And think how similar they sound To the echoes I heard When he used to yell. 6. And finally When I look in the mirror And see my eyes Saddened with all the regrets And disappointments in my life I’m looking into his eyes. 7. In so many ways − Both happy and sad − I have, with age Become my father. *****
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y The Classics 3-25-2002 Better appreciating the classics now that I’m older. _____ 1. Years ago when we were children My father bought a set of classic books: By Homer, Epictetus, Plato, Aristotle, Marcus Aurelius and the like. I remember vowing to myself, “Someday I’m gonna read those books.” 2. With my father’s death And my being 40 years older That “someday” has arrived. 3. After my Dad died His personal possessions Were divided up amongst the 5 of us With my brother Eric getting his book case That had that set of classic books in it.
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4. During all the years my father had them I never once asked him if I could borrow one to read. But now, now that I am older I thirst for all the knowledge they contain And so whenever I’d see Eric I’d ask to borrow one or two of them. * * Subsequently Eric gave me that set which I much appreciated. 5. Experience and age have given me A little more of this elusive and late-blooming thing Called wisdom. And now, with its arrival I’m finally ready to take them on. Now I’m better equipped to comprehend and appreciate The wisdom that’s in them − Now that 40 years have passed. 6. I’ve also come to realize How many other classics I haven’t read but want to read In the years that are left to me. 7. So now I read them all, voraciously As if I’m in a race with Death Which in many ways Is in fact the race I’m in. *****
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y He Also Said Goodbye * (On My Father Losing My Mom) 4-9-2002 My father knew my mother was dying. _____ 1. He looked into her eyes, Kissed her on the cheek, And said, “Goodnight.” Everything of love and pain Was in his look and kiss. But when he said, “Goodnight” He also said, “Goodbye.” 2. He firmly held her hand Reassuring her that he was there. And from his breaking heart He told her that he loved her. Everything was in those words For he knew full well That when the morning came She might be gone.
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3. She was dying And he was facing an empty life alone. With five of us young children, motherless We would only put more weight on him For we were all too young To be of any comfort in his sorrow. 4. He knew how hard his life would be Without her. He knew that when she died He’d be sentenced to a lonely life of misery. He also knew that he’d be better off If he could just go along with her. 5. Then she died. And when she did His heart and spirit Followed her. 6. In my bed at night I would hear him crying down the hall. My brother and my sisters Might have heard him too But I was never really sure − And never asked − And just kept it to myself.
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7. Each night he held her hand And when he said, “Goodnight” He also said, “Goodbye.” *****
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I Don’t Know How He Did It (To Dad) 4-22-2002 I marveled at how my father managed to raise five kids alone. _____ 1. I’m so lucky That I have someone To share my worries with For when my mother died My father lost the only one Who really understood him And had to carry all his worries All by himself. 2. He was all alone With five young kids to raise. And without a job And having spent so much of his savings Trying to save her We were forced to go on welfare For some period of time.
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3. How empty, desperate and lonely It must have been for him. And we, his children Were of little comfort For we were all too young and immature To understand what Life had done to him And to figure out what we should do to help. 4. But now that I am older I have a greater appreciation Of how hard it must have been for him. And when I really think about it I don’t know how he did it. *****
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Don’t Let The Rift Repeat Itself (On My Family) 9-13-2002 I pray our family won’t become polarized as my father’s was. (Prompted by the effect that “Little Richie” and his drug, conning and criminal activities are having on the family.) _____ 1. Please preserve our family unity. Please do not allow Any controversy – Or anything − To come between us And split us up One side against the other. 2. Because we lost our mother Much earlier than we ought to have And because our broken-hearted father Was so difficult to be around The five of us − My brother and my sisters − Grew especially strong and close With no major splits or frictions among us.
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3. But now Due to the controversial things That “Little Richie” is doing And the different opinions That each family member has As to how to handle the situation Is causing some friction in the family And prompting me to hope and pray That our unity will prevail And the family circle Will remain intact. 4. I’ve seen the circle broken once before – I’ve seen the family split On my father’s side − Which split lasted All of his final years in life. 5. We cannot have what happened To his family Happen to ours. We have to keep the family circle Unbroken. *****
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You’re Never Appreciated In Your Own Home Town (On My Family) 11-29-2002 Recognition sometimes comes more from outsiders. _____ 1. Many years ago At one of the family gatherings I played some cassettes Of the piano music that I had written And many years after that I gave the family Some CDs of some guitar music I composed − But they didn’t get the reception That I thought they might. 2. While I understand That the type of music I wrote May not be the kind they particularly liked I thought there might have been A little more reaction to it − Or at least for the effort that went into it all – No “A” for effort, so to speak. So without prejudice I quietly withdrew Somewhat like a turtle Who pulls itself back into its shell.
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3. I withdrew for 3 reasons: Firstly – I didn’t want to have them think That I was boasting or pushing for any recognition. Secondly − I didn’t want to be viewed as any kind of an “elitist” And risk distancing myself from the family that I love. And thirdly – Just in plain old self defense. 4. Sometimes I feel a little isolated with my avocation − Feeling a little bit like: I’m marooned on an island, A visitor from another planet, Or a kind of Ancient Mariner trying to tell his tale. * * From Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s 1798 poem, “Rime of the Ancient Mariner.” 5. So while I continue to pursue my love of writing music And believe in its value I generally keep it to myself Recognizing that there may a lot of truth in the old saying That “You’re never much appreciated In your own home town.” *****
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y A Little Boy Rejected By The Priests * 11-21-2003 Something I never forgot or forgave. _____ 1. When I was a little boy I had a lot of weight on me − More than any kid should have at that young age. I felt that life was all too much to bear And sometimes I just wanted to end it all. 2. On one cold and rainy late autumn afternoon While walking the streets To try and clear my head And relieve my heart from the worries I had I came upon a rectory door. “A priest might help,” I thought, “A priest might understand Or at least listen And help me get things off my chest.”
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3. I knocked Not even knowing what I’d say. An assistant answered and let me in And sat me down in the waiting room. Then she called the priest on duty. When the priest arrived He asked me what was wrong But as I was about to speak I started to cry. 4. With that The priest got up Took me from my chair And with his palms against my back Gently pushed me out the door saying, “Everything will be alright. Everything will be alright.” 5. That’s the only thing he said to me. That’s all the time he had for me. In just a few minutes I was on the street and in the rain again And the afternoon, by that time, Had turned to night.
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6. He didn’t even care enough to hear What was troubling me. He didn’t even have the time or empathy To even let me cry it out. He didn’t even care enough To talk to a little boy Who was just looking for some help − A little boy who used to trust in priests And looked up to them. 7. No empathy, sympathy or compassion − No nothing. I wasn’t worth his time. I wasn’t worth the trouble. I wasn’t worth the bother. 8. I was disillusioned to my core And more burdened Than I was before. 9. I never did forget that afternoon − Or the priest − Or the Church − Or religion − Nor did I forgive. *****
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y If They Were Any Source Of Discontent (To My Brother And Sisters) 10-28-2004 I’m very blessed to have no real sibling rivalry or jealousy. _____ 1. I haven’t written many poems or verses About my brother and my sisters Which is a good sign As I’ll try to explain. 2. You see So much of my writing Stems from discontent and worry And happily There’s very little of that among my siblings − No severe alignment issues, No biting jealousies, No clashing personalities, No major factions, No major frictions.
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3. Although we have Our little disagreements and irritations Now and again They’re only minor and short-lived And never large enough to undermine The compatibility and love we have Between and among each other. And if there were any major points Of discontent or worry You’d certainly find them in my writings. 4. I therefore feel so very fortunate For the relationships we have And grateful for the fact That there’s nothing serious enough Where I feel I have to write about it. *****
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I May Regret I Didn’t Do Enough (To My Sister Christine) 11-14-2005 Possibly regretting not having done more while she was healthy. ______ 1. I worry about your fragile health And fear I may be near to losing you. You were the one Who always gave the most to the family, Who never forgot a birthday or an anniversary, Who always made me feel more special And who had the greatest appreciation of the things I’d done. 2. Dearest sister, Chris If you were to leave me now I’d be a broken man With a deep and tearing emptiness inside of me From which I’d not recover well. 3. If you were to leave me now I’d forever regret That I hadn’t spent more time with you − That I hadn’t done enough for you − While you were alive and well And this regret would haunt me All of my remaining days. *****
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y I Saw It In Your Face (On “Big Richie”) 11-14-2005 My brother-in-law, “Big Richie”, a good and decent man, has been financially and emotionally crippled by the troubles brought on by his son, “Little Richie.” He even borrowed thousands of dollars from me to pay off his son’s debts to loan sharks in the Brooklyn Mafia who were beating up his son and threatening to hurt others in the family. This poem reflects the pain I saw in his face at a family gathering. _____ 1. I saw the hurt and loneliness in your face Which is a fraction of what I’m sure is in your heart. You searched the room for comfort and relief − Searching for a friendly smile. 2. You held your head up high − Higher than normal − To compensate for the sunken spirit That cannot raise itself. 3. You can’t hide it from me. You can’t mask it. I see right through it all − And I understand. *****
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I’m So Lucky For My Brother And My Sisters 3-5-2006 I feel blessed that we don’t have any sibling rivalry in our family. _____ 1. No rivalry or favoritism. No preferential treatment. No jealousy among us. No black sheep to deal with. Nothing like that at all. 2. We were bonded as brothers and sisters By two combining forces: By our mother’s early death And our father’s polarizing personality. 3. Our mother’s death created a vacancy Which my father over-filled. And with her absence And his dominating presence Brought us all closer together.
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4. He was very tough on us And always the subject And center of all our family conversations Which sadly made us turn away from him And compensatingly towards each other. He made us, so to speak Circle our wagons. 5. He was also the subject and center of our fears When we were young And of our angst and anger As we grew older. He unfortunately became A kind of common enemy That forced us to unite For our own protection. 6. He made us look away from ourselves As individuals − Away from finding petty faults and differences Amongst ourselves That were both imaginary and real − And towards each other And towards our commonalities And mutual support.
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7. Over the years He slowly and unwittingly Forged us together And during all that time We didn’t even know it was happening. 8. Out of these poor circumstances Came the inadvertent blessing − The closeness that we have together As brother and sisters. *****
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y A New Relationship With My Father * (On My Father) 12-15-2006 A new and relationship too late. _____ 1. When he was alive Things were very tense between us. We had a sad, unfortunate, and combative relationship − Nowhere near a normal father and son relationship. 2. But now − Now that he’s gone − And now − Now that I have A little more perspective and maturity − Our relationship has so much more improved. 3. Now that he’s gone We’re on much better terms: No more tension Like a bowstring taut and ready for release. No more sitting on a powder keg Waiting for the explosion. No more waiting for the bell to ring That would start the fight.
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4. Now I can talk to him And he can talk to me Better than we ever could before. Now we can talk to each other As father and son. 5. While I’m happy for our new relationship I’m also sad For it only serves to accentuate What we didn’t have When he was alive. 6. I’ve waited a long, long time For this new relationship with my father And although I’m happy that it’s finally come I’m also sad That it’s come so late. *****
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y Your Open Bravery * (To Christine) 4-6-2008 Prompted by the crushing news that my sister Christine has stage IV cancer and maybe less than a year to live. _____ 1. Christine You are my dear, dear sister Who means so much to me. So when you told me that you had cancer And possibly only a year to live I could hardly breathe. I was stunned to silence, shock and disbelief And you could see it on my face And in all my actions. 2. But you never showed it on your face. You were above that. You didn’t whine or feel sorry for yourself. You were the model of strength and courage. And with your smiles of open bravery You took so much burden off of us.
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3. How I admire and appreciate your bravery For in your time of need − When you have all the right in the world To request or even demand Our sympathy and pity for your own relief − You don’t. 4. By all rights We should be the ones to keep your spirits up. We should be the ones With that obligation. But instead you provided us relief By putting it on yourself. 5. Although I know you get depressed You always think of us and others And hide it for our sakes And only show us spirits high and ever hopeful. What courtesy and love! What bravery and example! 6. Defiant in the face of Death You say: “The tough Brooklyn, Irish and Norwegian Will come out of me!” And as witty as ever you further say: “I can’t die just yet For I’ve got so many more butts to kick And people to annoy!” How can we not be brave ourselves in light of your example?!
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7. Forgive our sullen and our sunken spirits. Forgive us if we can’t hold back our tears. Forgive our hearts that break in front of you. Forgive the hurt and anger on our faces. Forgive our cowardice In the face of the enemy And our weakness In the face of your true bravery. 8. Forgive us our emotions Which break their ranks in the heat of battle And scatter so unsoldier-like. We’re not the seasoned soldiers That we thought we were. You see, We just can’t imagine losing you − You who’s been so central to the family. 9. Forgive us, Chris, For all our weaknesses For we’re not as brave as you. And forgive us for our tears That come with the thought and fear of not having you. And even when we say “good-bye” to you And you begin your walk away from us We’ll be reaching out for you in denial and disbelief For we just can’t imagine What we’d ever do without you.
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10. And when you go, Chris Please take our precious love along with you. And when you reach the other side Please say, “Hello” to Mom and Dad for us And keep their spirits up Just as you have done for us. 11. And also tell them, Chris Just as we tell you, “We’ll see you later On the other side When we’re all together again.” *****
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y My Wild Bachelor Days 11-9-2008 Remembering my wild bachelor days. _____ 1. My wild bachelor days Were during the 15 years Between 1967 and 1981 − Between the day I was discharged from the Navy And lived in Brooklyn, Manhattan and Rio de Janeiro And the day I got married. 2. Almost every night I was in the bars Drinking with the guys And looking for the girls. Though I knew I’d never find The right girl in a bar I couldn’t help myself. 3. Almost every night I drank hard and heavy. And if I wasn’t drunk, I was nearly so. And all during these times I got very little sleep.
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4. I took big risks back then But luckily I came out of them in one piece But some others I knew Weren’t so lucky. 5. In many ways those 15 years Were shallow, hollow, empty years As I could have been doing Much more productive things − Like writing more poetry and music. In a way they were wasted years − Or were they? 6. Maybe they weren’t completely wasted For during those years I really tasted life − A part of life That many others rarely got to taste. And I experienced things That many others rarely got to experience − Things that were wild, exciting, and daring And sometimes downright dangerous.
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7. The things I did in those days Fell on both ends of the spectrum And were often stark contradictions of each other. Some were innocent things While others weren’t. Some were flattering and complementary While others were quite embarrassing. But they were all Unforgettable. 8. By day I was a young professional “Turk”. And by night I was a hard-drinking, girl-chasing marauder − A Dr. Jekyll and a Mr. Hyde − The head and tails of a coin − Sometimes a horse’s head And sometimes a horse’s ass. 9. Those 15 wild bachelor years − While they were empty years in many respects They were also Cram-packed with a lifetime worth of Life.
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10. In the back of my mind though I always knew that I had to change my ways And always knew that someday I would For I felt the commitment and momentum inside of me − Unshaped and slow at first − But definitely there and on the move With the power and certainty of tectonic plates Moving ever so slowly But unstoppable. 11. While I harbor some understandable regret About a lot of those wild and wasted bachelor years And my immature antics That were so often empty-headed and unproductive I didn’t come away completely empty handed For as I said I experienced a lot of Life That many others didn’t. 12. Everything in Life’s a trade-off. And everything has its price. And the price I paid For my little taste of Life’s wild adventures − While expensive in many ways − Was, I guess, At the going rate. *****
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y The Guillotine (The Power That Music Has On Me) 11-27-2008 How I found out about the effect that music has on me. _____ 1. When I was a teen in Brooklyn Maybe 14 years of age A street hood named Roy Doyle cursed at me As I rode down the street on my bike. (In my old neighborhood There were always confrontations like this.) I got so mad at him That I threw my bike down And went after him. He was ready – And I was too. 2. We fought nose to nose And fist to fist. Then one of my punches Caught him hard in the face And knocked him through A store-front window.
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3. As he lay there semi-conscious I saw that there was a huge triangular piece of glass Hanging from the top of the window Swinging slowly back and forth. I can still see it in my mind − That pointed piece of glass Wobbling above him And pointed directly at his chest Poised like a guillotine. 4. I watched and waited For it to drop into his chest. Time had stopped Waiting for Fate To make its life-changing decision. The guillotine stayed poised Just waiting for the order to be given. But thankfully it never came For something intervened And convinced it otherwise. 5. So before Fate Had any chance to change its mind I grabbed this gang member thug By his shirt and belt Pulled him out And threw him on the ground.
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6. When I got home I was shaking Knowing how close I’d come To perhaps killing him. 7. I remember picking up my guitar To distract myself And started playing. In seconds I was completely calm. It was then that I knew the power That music had on me. 8. Even today When I come home All stressed out And begin to play the piano or guitar All the stress I have inside of me Is drawn away and out of me Like magic Just as it was On that scary day so many years ago − Only these days Under less dramatic circumstances. *****
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y Collision At Sea (A Naval Tragedy) 11-30-2008 During the Vietnam War while on night maneuvers in the North Pacific our ship was cut in half by one of the ships in a convoy we were screening. It was a first-hand experience with tragedy and death. _____ 1. It was in the middle of the night And I was just about to go up topside to the bridge To assume the night watch as Officer of the Deck. I was down in CIC * Getting briefed by the CIC officer-in-charge About our ship’s current position, The contacts that we had on radar and sonar, And our planned maneuvers for the night. * The Combat Information Center
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2. Our ship was the USS McMorris (DE 1036), a destroyer escort And one of many ships screening a convoy To protect it from a potential submarine attack. When I arrived in CIC A signal was already “in the air” – A signal poised for execution: “Standby to re-orient the screen!” Which signal, when executed Required all the screening ships To turn and speed through the convoy And take up new positions to protect it From a submarine threat from a new direction. 3. The maneuver was to be performed Under darkened-ship conditions − A term used for when the navigation lights On all the ships were all turned off So that any stalking submarine couldn’t sight in on them And get an easy torpedo shot. It was a moonless night that night Which made it even more dangerous In that when the ships reoriented themselves And crisscrossed each other Speeding to their newly assigned positions They wouldn’t be able to see each other − Other than on radar.
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4. The maneuver was quite complex And required: Accurate plotting, precise coordination and timely execution. It was a dangerous enough maneuver in daylight And so much more so on a moonless night Under darkened-ship conditions. Then, the signal was executed, “Reorient the screen!” And all the screening ships were on the move. 5. Halfway into the maneuver I looked at the CIC radar plotting board And asked a simple question, “Where’s the Tombigbee?”, a cargo ship that we were screening. “It’s temporarily lost in the sea return * But it’ll be out in a minute.”, The CIC Officer reassured me − But it never did. * When ships are close to each other they’re not able to be seen on radar as their radar reflections are masked by reflections off the sea. 6. Soon I heard some panicked yelling on the bridge And the Captain order, “Right full rudder!” Then I heard him yell, “I think, we’re too damn close! We better show ourselves!” Then he screamed, “Lighten ship! All lights on!” − But it was too late.
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7. Then I heard a loud heavy thud followed by a dead-stop jolt Which threw me across the compartment and into the bulkhead. I hit my elbow hard against its cold and solid steel rib framing. I also heard the hissing sounds of broken steam pipes. We’d been almost cut in half! − Cut in half by the Tombigbee − One of the very ships we were screening. 8. There was pandemonium both on deck and down below. I heard the crackling sounds of electricity Arcing from the electrical lines that had been cut The ends of which were flailing around like unmanned fire hoses. I also saw the sparks shooting out from all their severed ends Lighting up the black night sky Just like sparklers on the 4th of July. 9. The smell of oil was in the air, on the decks and in the sea. It was everywhere. I was more afraid of fire than I was of sinking. I remember thinking that it was just a matter of time Before the fire and explosion. But I kept that thought and fear to myself So as not to cause any greater apprehension in the crew.
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10. Everyone was yelling, “Get the men out from down below!” (Most men who were killed, hurt or trapped Were in the berthing compartments below.) “Lower the stretchers and get those men up top-side!” Slowly, one by one, the heads of sailors Began to appear above the combings of the decks. One by one we laid them out on deck. It was hard to find enough free and undamaged space on deck To accommodate all of them. Some were dead, Some were missing limbs, And some had broken bones and lacerations. It was better that this tragedy had occurred at night For mercifully The blood showed more black Than red. 11. There can be no real plan or order When a tragedy like this occurs. You just did what you saw you had to do. Rank between the officers and men Meant less than it ever had before. Reflex, common sense and bravery Were the real officers in charge And you did whatever they ordered you to do. And if you didn’t You just froze in fear And did nothing − Nothing but just instinctively Look out for yourself.
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12. At one point I went below decks To see what damage had been done down there. And when I reached “Chief’s Quarters” I saw an Engineering Chief Petty Officer Stretched out on the deck lying on his back. His head was twice its normal size And looked like a balloon of water For all the bones in his skull had been crushed Leaving no support for the liquid That had become the inside of his head. 13. I stopped and knelt down beside him, Took his hand, and felt it weakly take hold of mine. Our eyes engaged But neither one of us said anything. I knew he wasn’t going to make it − And he knew it too. Then the light in his eyes went out And his hand went limp on me.
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14. I slowly put his hand down and moved on. I remember that not a single tear came to my eye For too many things were happening and all too fast − Too fast to have even such a tragedy as this Fully sink in. Emotions can’t catch up With all the things that were going on For they need more time To properly assemble themselves into grief. The mind can’t function in its proper way For it just can’t process well When there’s so much that has to be absorbed − And thank god, for otherwise Things such as nights like this Would overwhelm you. 15. I’ll never forget that night And that taste of tragedy and death. Though only a taste It was a taste I’ll never forget And one that will always stay with me Wherever I go In some way, shape or form. *****
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Post Script You grow up fast when life demands you to. One lesson in this kind of school – In the school of tragic experiences – And you’ve earned a full degree. And while you grow up harder and stronger for it In many ways you grow up weaker too. ~ You also never sleep as soundly as you used to And sometimes jump at loud or sudden sounds more than normal Or when those scary jack-in-the-box memories Pop-up on you unexpectedly. ~ And while tragedies like this train you for the next one You always wish there was a better way. *****
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y Transported To The Past * (By The Clattering Of The Dishes) 12-9-2008 A flashback to those not so happy years after Mom died. _____ 1. As I was putting away the dishes one night Their clattering sounds Triggered something inside of me For the next thing I knew I was hearing the clattering of the dishes In our dim-lit yellow kitchen back home in Brooklyn Nearly 50 years ago. I’d somehow been transported back − Back through both time and space − Back to the time Right after Mom had died. 2. Some kind of sinister magician Had apparently snapped his fingers And sent me back To those not so happy years when Mom died And I had just turned 17 And was the oldest of the 5 of us With the youngest one Being just around 5.
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3. The clattering of those dishes Had somehow opened up A worm-hole in time and space And converted My Today into my Yesterday − My Present into my Past. 4. When Mom died The whole world changed for us Wherein our former lives became irrelevant. I remembered all of it And all the things we now had to do ourselves − The washing, ironing, cleaning, cooking And dealing with Dad − All the things that Mom had always done for us before. Starkly different times were thrust upon us. 5. You learn to cope By just keeping busy And doing what you had to do And not over-thinking things too much. You learn to cope By just accepting things as they are − That’s the theory anyway.
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6. Acceptance is not perfect though For whenever you find yourself with time to think Your nagging heartaches, fears and worries All show themselves And you fall into that sinkhole Of insecurity, anxiety and depression. And when Dusk arrives It’s even worse For that’s when you know That Night is coming And you’ll be at your most vulnerable Laying in bed, Staring at the ceiling, And feeling the Night Trying to swallow you whole. 7. In many ways You can get used to anything. But in many ways You can’t For how can you shake the constant pining For the things that used to be But that aren’t any more And will never be again? How can you effectively mediate Between the two battling war-lords in your head − Those of Memory and Denial?
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8. I used to enjoy the Night Because it offered me invisibility. But when Mom died I more preferred the Day For the Day Was much more sympathetic to my grief By offering me a multitude of visible images To distract me from my new reality Which was something that the Night Would never do for me. 9. So many times I found myself wondering If the Night would ever end on its own Or if I should just end it myself And be done with it all. 10. My eyes were often Wide-eyed searchlights in the Dark And when I closed them − Thinking that would help − Things got even worse. 11. When the lightning in my mind Flashed too bright And the thunder of my pounding heart Rolled too loud I pulled the covers over my head Afraid of everything.
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12. With the clattering of the dishes A second time I was fast-forwarded From those gloomy and motherless days Of the Past Back to the Present. Although I was only gone For a second or two It seemed like An eternity. *****
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y My Old Neighborhood And Classroom (Thank God I Was Paying Attention) 12-11-2008 Stories in my youth and lessons learned in my old neighborhood in Brooklyn. _____ 1. It wasn’t that bad of a neighborhood in Brooklyn But, it had its share of characters and stories Which made it both my observatory and my classroom. 2. Bobby Nally was a good looking street-tough Irish kid Who came to Flatbush from Canarsie Where he had lived in one of those Quonset huts That were built right after World War II And that didn’t have any water or electricity. He was a convicted felon, a boozer and an addict − Hooked on heroin Which was the king of drugs back then. I’d often find him in grubby hallways in the streets Or on “The Tracks” where the freight trains passed Stoned and incoherent With his eyes rolled back in his head. One day he overdosed and died − For god’s sake He was only in his late teens or early 20s.
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3. Frankie Carpentier was a brick of a guy − A tough Italian kid Just like you’d see in the movies. One story on the street as to why he disappeared Was that he’d joined the merchant marine. But there was another one That he’d been “whacked” after crossing the Mob. 4. Dick Peer and Emil Corno were two guys Who I hung out with a lot But neither one was really street tough And therefore nothing much to brag about. Of the three of us I was the most daring And the one most tempted By the lure of the streets. I wanted to be a tough guy like some of the others − To prove myself − To make a “name” for myself. 5. Rocky was a hairy Italian guy Who ran Leon’s Luncheonette. While it was a luncheonette It was also a front for numbers running, Money drops, And small time mobster meetings. Leon’s was on the same street As Grogan’s Bar and Grill And Rand’s Cleaning Factory.
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6. “Lucky” Luciano − the “Lucky” Luciano – And big time mobster − Bought a corner house on Troy Avenue and Avenue I. I never saw him myself But I saw his wife and family living there. They pretty much kept to themselves Which was “Lucky’s” style − Sticking to business and keeping a low profile Unlike so many other mobsters. 7. “Butch” Daniels was a big tough Irish guy But a nice guy and pretty straight. Although he never went to college I never saw him follow the others And get in trouble on the streets. He was his own man And seemed secure and comfortable in his own skin. He was a good example Of how you could resist the pull of the streets If you wanted to. 8. Jackie Lynn was a little older than the rest of us. We used to watch him walk an 8 by 8 foot square In the front of his house. You see, he’d done time And never broke the habit of “walking his cell.” He’d gone crazy on the “inside” And took it with him when he got out. It wasn’t long before he went back in again.
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9. Tony Ionaconi, was a short Italian guy Who bought the vacant lot next door to us To build his house. He had no front teeth, Wore gold chains around his neck, And of course had a pinky ring. At night he used to steal materials From the construction sites he’d worked at And used them for his house. But when the mob found out about it They came after him And from then on in He always came home after dark, Went in the back way, And never answered the door himself. 10. Kenny “Cats” Catherwood was a short Irish kid With rotten yellow teeth Some of which had already fallen out. He was a little wannabe tough guy. He was a fast talker and showed off a lot. He’d sometimes hang out with the ghetto blacks Which I guess, made him feel tougher.
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11. There was a ranch style house across the street Owned by the Welner’s Who I think were the only Jews on the block. It was also the only ranch-style house In the entire neighborhood. As the story went It was built by Al Capone – The Al “Scarface” Capone − When he lived in Brooklyn When Brooklyn was the “sticks” And before he moved to Chicago. He had a secret underground tunnel built (That since had been boarded up) That ran from East 42nd Street to East 43rd And always had a get-away car waiting On the 43rd Street side In case the Feds or local cops showed up On the 42nd Street side.
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12. Another Al Capone – Not the Al Capone – Was a neighbor of mine Who lived two doors down and was Emil’s uncle. Because I was a kind of serious kid, and he, being older We struck up a friendship And talked a lot about such things as Art, philosophy, religion and the like. He was also the one who introduced me to opera And we’d listen to a lot of the old-time arias in his room On those heavy, scratchy, 78 (rpm) records of his. One time I asked if I could use him as a reference For a gun permit I was applying for But he told me that I’d better not As he had a police record. I knew there was a story behind that But never asked. 13. Joe Scigliano was my piano teacher For about 6 months before I joined the navy. He was married and had two kids. I think he was a little gay Because one time He made some “suggestive” remarks to me. Right after that I dropped piano lessons.
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14. Larry Orr lived around the block. I could see his house From my back bedroom window. He was a loud drunk and a hairy ape And sometimes I’d see him Smack his wife around in the kitchen. He also had a kid who was “mental” And who used to swing out of The second floor bedroom window On the chords of his Venetian blinds. 15. Joe Conigliaro lived across the alley. He was a Sicilian And worked at night at “The Airport” Which was a Mafia club Near Floyd Bennett Field At the far end of Flatbush Avenue. He had access to guns which worried me Because I was having an affair with his wife Who was 34 and more than twice my age of 16. There were times I had to slip out of her house In the middle of the night When he came home earlier than expected. It was a very dangerous affair.
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16. Jack “Jake” Nutting Was a tall, skinny, black-haired Irish kid Who was kind of a loner. He was into cars and car repair. One night they found him dead Inside a garage with the engine running. Murder, accident or suicide? My bet was suicide For he wasn’t a happy guy And always looked as though He had a lot on his mind. 17. Billy “Bo” Boshinski was a Polish guy Who also worked on cars. He had polio as a kid and limped badly. In reality, it was much more than a limp For he almost had to hop to get around.
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18. “Paulie” something − I forget his last name − Was a drug addict just like Bobby Nally was Only “Paulie” wanted to kick the habit − And kick it “cold turkey.” So, we took him to a one room flat Off Prospect Park That we had rented for the weekend And took turns watching him. At times we had to hold him down And even tie him up and gag him When he screamed too loud Or shook and fought us too violently. It was something I’ll never forget And because of that experience I became deathly afraid of drugs For I saw first-hand What they could do to you. 19. Old man Salomons had three girls And when he wanted them home He’d whistle. It was the loudest and most piercing whistle That I had ever heard. And when he whistled The girls came running from blocks away. It was such a commanding whistle That it almost made me Want to run home too.
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20. In those days There were gangs throughout the neighborhood − After all, it was the 1950’s and ‘60s and vintage: “Grease.” There were, to name a few “The Tigers”, “The Lords of Flatbush” and “The Dukes.” I myself was in a gang called “The Avenue K Boys” But not in a very serious or committed way. Many of the gangs had “junior factions” Like “The Junior Tigers” and “The Midgets” For the younger wannabes in training. 21. And as for the “big” gang – The “Mob” – The “Mafia” − They were all around the old neighborhood too. There were: Dons, captains, lieutenants and soldiers − And there were Bagmen, hit men, loan sharks, runners and enforcers. Gang wars and rub outs were common And often very visible. I remember frequently looking out the window Of the Utica Avenue bus On my way to high school And seeing police barricades Around bodies with white sheets over them That evidenced The prior night’s shootings and rub-outs At the Mafia night clubs.
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22. In my neighborhood The Italians had their lounges and social clubs And the Irish had their bars, saloons and societies. There were many other ethnic clubs and organizations But too many to name. 23. All the time that I was in the neighborhood I was both an “insider” looking out And an “outsider” looking in − Always trying to distinguish “me” from “them” − Always trying to figure out Who I was and whose side I was really on − Always trying to decide Who I was “for” and who I was “against” − Always watching and observing – Always studying everything around me. Every observation had a hidden meaning and message That I had to figure out. I was always playing the game of: “What’s wrong with this picture?” And “Why am I in it?”
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24. I saw the young ones in their teens and 20s And the futures they were making for themselves. I also saw the old ones Who had already made their futures And with no money or any options to get out Were trapped in the neighborhood like prisoners Sleeping in the beds that they had made Or sadly That were made for them. Knowingly or unknowingly The doors were locked behind them So all that was left for them Was to feel sorry for themselves Or just accept things as they were And make the best of it. 25. After a while it hit me − “You gotta get outta here! You gotta get off these streets! You gotta mend your ways! You gotta get an education For that’s your ticket outta here!”
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26. From what I had gleaned From all that I’d seen In my old neighborhood in Brooklyn. It was clear to me – Clear as night and day − As to what I had to do. I had to get off this dead-end path I was on. I had to reject the temptation of the streets. I had to side-step the trap I saw ahead of me. I had to choose my destiny Before it chose me As it had for so many others. 27. My neighborhood was my school And my block, my classroom. My friends and neighbors were my teachers And their lives, my subjects. And as I look back now To the time I was in my neighborhood school All I can say is, “Thank god I was paying attention And took good notes.” *****
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y Running Away From Home 12-15-2008 Remembering the times I ran away from home. _____ 1. When I was a teen ager I had a hard time living with my father And ran away from home a few times. 2. One time I planned to run away to Canada − To the upper Hudson Bay − A place where they spoke English But was so far up North that I’d never be found. It was so far up That when I called on the phone To make some inquiries about moving there They stopped me and asked me a strange question, “Are you a missionary?” “Why?”, I asked, and they replied, “Well, that’s all we have up here − Indians and missionaries.” * I never took that trip. * Inuit Indians
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3. One time I ran away to Bedford-Stuyvesant Which was a tough black ghetto and Brooklyn’s Harlem. I stayed with a black guy Who they called, “The Deacon”. He was a friend of my friend, Kenny “Cats” Catherwood. I stayed in his uncle’s bed, who they told me, “Never comes home.” Well that night he did come home And very drunk. When he opened the door to his room he startled me Which made me sit straight up in bed As fast as if I were spring-loaded. And when he saw me bolt up like that He got startled too, and let out a loud yell And then literally tumbled down the flight of stairs That was behind him. Being white I’m sure I must have looked Just like a ghost to him! I never saw him again – That night or any other time during my stay. In the morning, I’d have breakfast with the family And see them pour the bacon fat behind the stove Onto piles of old newspapers “So as not to”, they told me, “clog up the drains.” While there were roaches everywhere I was more worried about the lice and bed bugs. I didn’t stay there for very long.
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4. Another time I ran away I took a room off Prospect Park in Brooklyn For a dollar a day. It was a “dive” And every time I slammed the door A piece of plaster Would fall off the ceiling or walls. I was only there for about a week. 5. The third time I ran away, I stayed at a flop-house On the Bowery in New York City Where the bums would go to get out of the weather Or to get some sleep. You had three choices there: You could get a cot, Get a chalked off section on the floor, Or drape yourself over a long thick rope That was as thick as a ship’s mooring line And that was stretched across the room Which allowed you to take the weight off your feet And maybe get a wink or two of sleep – (The rope thing sounded strange But that’s what they told me.) I remember also There was a guy there who provided a very special service: For a nickel or dime he’d lay a line of lighter fluid Around your sleeping spot on the floor As a barrier to keep the roaches away. In a place like that, it was a very valuable service. I was only there for just one night.
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6. Those were the only times I ran away – If you want to call it that − But never for very long. But some years later I joined the Navy And always wondered, just a little If that qualified as running away. Whether it did or didn’t That one lasted About 4 years. *****
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y The Duck Dinner That I Missed (Three Miracles) (On Christine) 5-1-2009 Reflections on my wilder days. _____ 1. “I’ll just stop for a drink or two after work Before I pick up Vi.” That’s what I told myself Before I drove to Brooklyn For a duck dinner That my sister Chris Had especially prepared for me. “Just a drink or two”, I reassured myself. 2. But the bar owner’s niece Had a crush on me And wouldn’t let me leave. So I stayed way too long And drank way too much So by the time I picked up Vi At the Stuyvesant Town Apartments I was very late and kind of drunk.
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3. To make up time I put the pedal to the floor And screamed down East 23rd Street In its narrow service lane. 4. Then it happened. “Boom!” I hit another car in a horrific crash. Vi’s forehead hit the windshield hard And the other car spun around violently And smashed into the side of a nearby building. And as for my car It was completely wrecked And undrivable. 5. When I went over to the other car The dazed driver asked me, “Did you see the car that hit us?!” It happened so fast That neither the driver or his girlfriend Realized that it was I who’d actually hit them. Though tempted by the opportunity he gave me To lie about the incident and deflect the blame I didn’t, and told him it was I that hit him.
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6. While Vi was hurt And had a lot of glass embedded in her forehead Thank god she wasn’t badly hurt. And as for those in the other car Though very shaken They generally seemed OK as well. It was a miracle That no one was killed or severely injured. This was the first of three miracles Relating to that accident and that night! 7. We all started off for the hospital But I held back, saying, “You all go on ahead And I’ll catch up with you later.” 8. As they went off to the hospital I went off to find the nearest bar And conspicuously ordered a number of drinks But never drank them. Rather, I inconspicuously Poured them on the floor. I had the calculating presence of mind To establish a potential defense for myself If I needed one: “Yes, officer/judge, I had some drinks But only after the accident, to calm my nerves.”
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9. Next, I called Chris Who was very mad And reprimanded me − Berated me − “You’ve got to stop your drinking! You’ve got to settle down!” Still reeling from the crash I wasn’t in the mood for any sermon So we argued. 10. Then I went to the hospital Where surprisingly neither the people in the other car Or the hospital staff Asked for any identification or insurance papers Or made any real inquiries about what had happened. And as for the police − Who I expected might take me away in cuffs − Never even showed. That was the second miracle that night! 11. Early the next morning When I went back to see about my car. Amazingly, I found that it was still there And hadn’t been towed away or ticketed by the cops. That was the third and final miracle Of that infamous night!
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12. This horrific accident Was a defining moment in my life For I can honestly say That as a result From that day forward to today I became A much more cautious and safe driver. For me That accident was Close to a near-death experience Where I had caught a glimpse of that bright white light That you always hear about In that scary tunnel between life and death. *****
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y
I’m Luckier Than My Father Was (On My Father) 8-25-2009 Life was hard on my father especially in the second half of his life. _____ 1. My father’s life started out All well and good: Having calm and loving parents, Getting a college education, Not being shipped out overseas during World War II, Landing a good and steady job, Finding a loyal and understanding wife, And making money enough to buy a house and start a family. It was almost too good to be true. 2. During the first half of his life He was doing so well That he probably never had the slightest inkling That Life was watching him And how envious and spiteful it could be. I wonder if he ever gave any thought To the possibility That he was being set-up for a major fall By Life, the Spoiler.
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3. Then, sure enough, it happened − My Mom died on him. Life took his wife and dearest love away. It took the bottom card out from his house of cards. And to make things even worse It took her slowly, Painfully, And all too early in her life. Life could have done it quickly, Painlessly, And at a better time − When the kids were all grown up and on their own Or after he had had her love and company For at least a few more years − But no, it didn’t. 4. Life also could have chosen Not to break his spirit like it did − But no It spitefully took away his will to live. It also had him spend a lot of his savings Trying to save her. And then To add insult to injury It found a way to make him lose his job Forcing him and his family to go on welfare For an embarrassing period of time.
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5. And Life wasn’t finished with him yet. No, it continued on with its spitefulness By plaguing him with having to deal with A number of unruly kids And their problems in the streets. And if that wasn’t enough It gave him a whole host of other worries that he didn’t need Including personally afflicting him with: Obesity, high blood pressure, colon cancer, diabetes High cholesterol and heart disease, among other things That methodically sucked away his strength. 6. And all the while he suffered through his fate He prayed a silent prayer for Death to take him too So he could free himself from Life − His jailor and tormentor − And shorten the time he’d have to be away from her. But no, Life wouldn’t hear of it For that would have been too easy, and too merciful. No, Life had to turn an already sad story Into a complete tragedy By having him continue his suffering For many years to come. 7. Although Life has given me My own set of problems, Compared to what it had given my father There’s no comparison.
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8. And what I’ve learned from all of this − From both Life and my father’s fate − Is that it’s never good for you To rise too high, too fast, or too soon As my father did For when you do You just make yourself an easy target And too great a temptation For Spiteful Life To ever resist. *****
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y I Saw The World When I Was Bulletproof 12-15-2009 Some stories about my travels. _____ 1. After some convincing I got a friend of mine to put aside his reservations and concerns About its danger and inconveniences And come with me to South America, Trinidad and Mexico. We went to almost every major city and jungle there. We also went in very troubled times: When revolutions were being plotted behind closed doors, When people were demonstrating and often rioting in the streets, And when anti-Americanism was running high. 2. I also went through almost all of Africa At a time when the blacks were taking over And the whites were literally on the run and being hunted down And their property appropriated by the natives Including using their elegant homes as barns for their animals. Before I went, I asked some friends if they would like to go But they didn’t want to take such a risky trip So I went alone.
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3. I also went through most of Western Europe And parts of Scandinavia too With a Navy buddy of mine in his little Volkswagen And who was stationed in Naples, Italy. 4. I also went alone Through almost all of Asia Taking a number of young, Foolish, And exotic risks But all for the sake Of adventure and experience. 5. And just for the adventure of it all I went up north, past the Arctic Circle Into upper Canada and Alaska. Here again I went alone As I couldn’t find anyone Who was willing to deal with the ice and cold. 6. Most everyone who I approached about these trips Wanted to have a safe, comfortable and “normal” vacation − Preferably one in the sun and the sand. But I wasn’t thinking of “vacation” − I was thinking of “adventure” − Adventure while I was still young, willing and able − And bullet-proof.
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7. I knew that at any time later in my life I could sit by the pool at some Holiday Inn In a safe, friendly and English-speaking environment And soak up the sun in a comfortable chair With a fancy umbrella drink in my hand. 8. Correspondingly I also knew that I might never again Find that unique timing in my life Where youth, opportunity and daring All converged and fused perfectly together Into a burning desire to see the world Raw, first-hand and without any frills And to see whether I was up to Accepting its dare. 9. If I wanted to see the world, I told myself I had to do it now: When the moon and stars were all lined up, The iron was hot, And youth was on my side. I told myself that I had to do it now With whomever was ready, willing and able − And if no one was I had to make that hard decision To go alone.
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10. In order to see All those places around the world That I had heard, read and wondered about I knew I had to take some risks And that I might encounter some problems Along the way − Some of which I mention below. 11. For example: Having to get away from a rioting mob in Lima, Peru; Almost dying in Egypt from an overdose of quinine; Being chased by a gang of blacks in Tanzania; Swimming with piranha in the Amazon; Almost drowning in the currents off Trinidad; Nearly being knifed in a Tokyo nightclub by some pimp; Being beaten up in Amsterdam by a bunch of US draft dodgers; Having to leave the Philippines one night for fear of my life; Getting violently ill from eating bad horsemeat in Mexico City; And catching an exotic disease from a bargirl in Bangkok. There were other incidences as well, but not so dramatic. Anyway, I got through them all more or less unscathed Because luck and youth were on my side. 12. I took my chances and saw the world At the perfect time in my life − When I was young, single, daring − And bullet-proof. *****
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y You Did Make A Difference In My Life * (To My Father) 3-11-2010 My father might have thought that he never made a difference in my life. _____ 1. My father and I fought a lot And hardly ever saw eye to eye On much of anything. 2. So it would have seemed to him, I’m sure That he never had any positive influence on my life − That I was never proud of him − And that I never respected or emulated him. And being a father That must have hurt.
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3. He had sufficient grounds to think that way For I never gave him much of any sign That I was receptive To much of anything he said or did. While I was immature And let pride get in my way By the same token He was very hard to deal with And had a volatile temper So he didn’t make it easy Which made it a double tragedy. 4. Everything back then Was so clouded By the fighting that we did That I couldn’t rightly tell The good from the bad effects He had on me. 5. But now that I am older And our personalities Are no longer in the way I can see more clearly Some of the positive influences He had on me.
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6. “For all the fighting that we did, Dad, You probably never imagined That I’d ever be grateful to you For much of anything. But putting aside All the differences and problems we had I wanted you to know That I’ll always be grateful to you For a number of things: For never leaving us or turning to drink When Mom died Which you might have easily done; For having a piano in the house Which exposed and lead me into a life-long love of music; For having country music records around Which I found a lot of identification with; For helping me get into the college I wanted to By getting past some of their strict requirements; For helping me get into the officer’s program When I joined the Navy; And for setting an example for me About being in love with one woman For all your life.”
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7. “So Dad Even though I couldn’t tell you all these things While you were alive Either out of immaturity, inhibition or pride Or because you didn’t make it easy for me to do so back then And even though I can’t tell you in person now − Now that you’re gone − I wanted to let you know At least belatedly And in absentia So you can rest more easy in your grave And take pride in saying to anyone you speak to That you did Make a difference in my life.” *****
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y Scuff Marks On The Kitchen Cabinets (Fights With My Father) 9-10-2010 From upstairs in her bed Chris could hear the fights my father I sometimes had. _____ 1. At every family gathering we’d tell family stories About the times we were growing up With my sister Chris, usually taking the lead. 2. On one such occasion Chris talked about the fights she heard From upstairs in her bed That took place between my father and I Downstairs in the kitchen − About the yelling and screaming And the knocking about of bodies, fists and feet And how scared she was. 3. She also said That when she went downstairs in the morning She saw all the scuff marks on the kitchen cabinets Which was all she needed to prove to herself That she wasn’t just dreaming.
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4. As she recited all these stories About the fights I had With my father And the ones I used to have With others in the streets I had trouble remembering many of them. Why that was I’m not quite sure. 5. Why was it That I couldn’t remember So many of the fights I had? Was it just the natural erosion of memory? Was it just my becoming forgetful as I aged? Or was I forgetting things on purpose − Forgetting things That maybe I didn’t want to remember? *****
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y Just Barely * (The Story Of School, The Navy And My Career) 9-22-2010 The high cost of a modicum of success. _____ 1. Last night I dreamed That I was running down the track Trying to catch a train that had just pulled out And that I so much wanted to be on. And while I made the train − I made it, just barely. 2. I’m always having dreams like this − Dreams about trying to reach for things That were always pulling themselves away from me Or being put just beyond my natural reach Requiring me to run, push or struggle to get them. In every dream And every actual event in my life While I’d make it I’d make it only after an extraordinary effort − And then, just barely.
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3. For example with respect to college I got accepted into the better school that I wanted But it was only after they had to make An exception to their standards. This was to become the pattern in my life Where I’d make it − But always, just barely. 4. And as for studying I always had to put in long hours Just to achieve marginal results. And as for the exams I took I just finished them in time − And never easily − Always having to sweat it out to the very end And never being confident about how I did. And when the results came in They were always marginal at best. Oh if only once I could have seen myself at the top of the list And celebrated Rather than merely feeling relieved Not to have failed − But only passed, and just barely.
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5. Getting into the Naval Officers Program Wasn’t easy either For I just made the deadline And its minimum requirements. And all the while I was in the program I was miserable For I was almost failing academically And more so nearly failing emotionally For I felt so inferior When I compared myself to the others − Which was something I was always doing. I remember several times Standing outside the Captain’s Office Rehearsing what I was going to say As I resigned. But in the end though I stuck it out and didn’t resign And became the officer that I wanted to be − But, just barely.
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6. After serving 4 years in the Navy I joined the prestigious public accounting firm Of Peat Marwick Mitchell Where I was overwhelmed By all the complex accounting concepts I had to master. I remember having to leave the room that the team was working in To try and calm my panic And think things through by myself For I couldn’t let them see Just how much I was struggling. I also remember leaving the building sometimes And walking around the block Taking slow and deep breaths and talking to myself To try and compose myself for another go at it. One time, the only place I found That was private enough for me to collect myself Was in a dingy stall in one of the men’s rooms. Just like in the Navy, I debated quitting And getting into a less demanding career And one that would save me from The risk and embarrassment of washing out. So many times I had to pit my pride against my despair Which so often fought themselves To a bloody and exhausting draw. Ultimately through After a lot of head-cracking and soul-searching I gained the minimum understanding that I needed And rallied just enough courage and determination To keep my nose above water and survive − But, just barely.
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7. I also remember having to take the CPA exam Over and over again Right up to the time the firm warned me That I had no more time left And was on the brink Of being held back from promotion Or even being fired. But at the 11th hour − At the moment of extremis − I passed the last part of that grueling four-part exam And became the CPA that I wanted to be − But again, it was just barely. 8. I also remember always having to bring A lot of work home with me − Work that I couldn’t get finished in the office And that I had to work on at night and on the week-ends While the others enjoyed their free time off. But, by putting in Extraordinary amounts of time and effort I managed to keep up with the work and the job − But as usual, it was always, just barely.
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9. I remember as well In order to be considered For partnership in the U.S. firm I had to go to Brazil for 4 years As a Brazilian partner. I couldn’t become a U.S. partner the normal way As most others did But rather I had to make that additional sacrifice And pay the dues that others didn’t have to pay. I had to make an end-run And come in through the back door. And even after that When I was due to come back from Brazil There were those Who were hesitant to vote me in. Finally though In a split vote I was admitted And became the U.S. partner That I wanted to be − But it was again, just barely.
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10. And as a U.S. partner for 11years While I had some decent sized clients I was given mostly the smaller ones − Those that in some respects no one else wanted. It seemed that I wasn’t regarded or trusted enough To handle some of the larger and more prestigious clients. But I swallowed my pride And took my assigned clients with enthusiasm Thankful just to be a member of the club. Even though I was only a second class member I was satisfied in knowing that I was a partner And had a portfolio of clients of my own. I coped with that compromising And subordinate partner position as best I could − But, just barely.
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11. Never content to stay in my comfort zone I’ve always tried to reach and stretch a little further − A little beyond my natural talents − And in doing so I’m sure that stretch was obvious to many. But no matter how awkward or strained it looked I had to do it − I had to prove to them and to myself That despite the odds and the toll it took on me I could stay in the ring. I had to show them That I could survive in their world. I wanted to make those who had bet against me Lose all the bets they made. On the outside I might have seemed confident and determined But on the inside I was always second-guessing myself As to whether all the angst and effort Was worth the steep and personal price I was paying for my modicum of success. I was always debating whether all the time That I had to put into it Was worth all the emotional energy That it took out of me. I managed to win that debate within myself − But, just barely.
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12. All my life I’ve had to put in extraordinary efforts To get moderate results. All my life I strived for the best But had to settle for second best: A junior membership in that exclusive club, An equivalency certificate in lieu of a full diploma, Standing room at the grand opera, A basement apartment in that prestigious building, A second hand invitation to the gala event, And the consolation prize in the raffle. All my life I’ve had to chase and sweat for what I got While so many of my peers Were able to stay relatively cool and dry And have it come to them. I’ll always remember What my grandmother Hackett said to me, “Strike for the top, Neil and maybe you’ll hit the middle.” Fortunately and persistently I followed her advice And was able to achieve a lot of my goals – I was able to get on That ladder of achievement and success Even if it was only on the bottom rung − And only, just barely.
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13. All my life I’ve had to try and ignore The thrusts and barbs of my critics But more so Those of my own self-criticism. All my life I’ve had to ignore the snide remarks That I sometimes overheard. And all my life I’ve had to fight my constant inclinations To give up And take an easier and less challenging road And counter them by telling myself, “No, you can’t give up, you’ve got your pride.” All my life I’ve had to scare myself With the threat of the self-humiliation Of not being able to stay the course And being labeled a failure − Especially by myself. And all my life Whenever I’ve failed at something Or lost my job I’ve had to swallow my pride And rise above my embarrassment and shame And fight my way back As everyone watched − Which I did, but just barely.
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14. All my life I’ve been running down the track Trying to catch that train that I wanted to be on Knowing that it would take me to a better place Both in the world and in my head And avoid the crushing feeling I’d have Knowing that I didn’t make it. All my life I’ve been running down the track Trying to catch some train And while I usually caught it − It was always, just barely. *****
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y Changing History * (Everyone Loves A Happy Ending) (On My Father) (Manila, 4:45 am) 5-8-2011 A surreal dream-wish that I could change the history of the relationship between my father and me. _____ 1. I went behind the battle lines That History had drawn for us Where my father and I Had fought so many battles Long and hard and personal. 2. I went behind those battle lines To look for my father’s grave Hoping that History − When I did find it − Was still “curing” And hadn’t fully “set” And that I could possibly change it Before it did.
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3. I was hoping that our story Was still in draft form And that I still had a chance To do some last minute editing Before it went final. 4. I was hoping – And almost out of breath with worry − That when I found his grave It wouldn’t be too late And that I’d find That the epitaph for his tombstone Was still in the mason’s notes And hadn’t already been chiseled in stone. 5. I searched and searched And finally found him in his grave Half dead, and half covered up with dirt − Yes, half-dead but still alive. I was so desperate to find him − And so relieved when I had − That I never gave it a second thought As to how impossible this all was.
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6. Kneeling at the edge of his grave I reached down and shook him. He was almost cold with death by now But not fully yet. And when his eyes opened slightly I shook him again and told him it was me. Then I breathed a little more life into him Which he accepted And opened his eyes a little more. They looked so tired, but not angry Which had been my fear. Rather, they looked soft and glad to see me − Glad to see his prodigal son coming to his rescue − Coming to change the ending of our story − To an ending That would put us on better terms So he could rest more easily in his grave And I could live my life With a little more peace of mind. 7. For the first time in our lives We agreed on something. We agreed to change our stories To something more like A father and son’s story ought to be like And less like the story of two bitter adversaries That History had originally cast us as.
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8. We caught History just in time − Just before it became final. We also caught it in a good mood And was able to convince it That the changes we proposed were worth it Not only for our sakes But for History’s sake as well For everyone − Including History − Loves a story with a happy ending. *****
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y Role Models (In My Old Neighborhood) 7-23-2011 We create and retain role models both good and bad. (Some private confessions about my youth.) _____ 1. Growing up in Brooklyn In the late 1950s and early ‘60s I wanted to be a tough guy Like so many others in the neighborhood. 2. I admired The tough, and tough-looking, Irish and Italian kids Who dominated my old neighborhood With their handsome chiseled faces, Their muscular arms and large dagger-and-skull tattoos, Their hard personas that reeked with excitement and danger And who you just knew you shouldn’t mess with. In one way I wanted to be like them But in another way I didn’t.
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3. In one way I wanted to be like them For their independent toughness But in another way I didn’t For I could see the writing on their walls And where they were headed Which was down a dead-end street of drugs and crime. I could also see That while they had fast and exciting lives They were “scheduled” to go to jail Or die young And most probably in the streets. 4. I was smart enough to recognize Early in the game That if I were to make a hard left turn Off the main highway And onto the road that they were on I’d be risking my life And any chance for a decent future. So instead − Thinking that I could shave the odds And mitigate the risk − I just bore a little left So I could have at least A little taste Of their dangerous and exciting world But not go all the way.
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5. Yes, I wanted to be like them But I didn’t want all the consequences That were attached. I wanted to play the game But not go all-in. I wanted the best of both worlds – Mine and theirs. So I played only a little of their game Thinking that by doing so I’d be hedging my bets. But in reality I was still dangerously exposed For with one bad hand – One slip up – One police bust − I could have lost it all. 6. Yes, I wanted to see myself As a tough guy just like them But didn’t want to chance the life-destroying risks That came along with that persona − The risks of being caught, Going to jail, And having a record for the rest of my life − Or worse − Dying in some dark and rainy alleyway With only a passing mention in the papers About another kid who went to jail Or who died in the streets.
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7. Yes, I wanted to be like them And couldn’t resist the temptation Of following in their footsteps − For at least a little ways. So, for a number of scary years I lived on the wrong side of the law Having given into that fatal attraction. And all the while that I was showing How tough and street-smart I was I was actually showing How weak and dumb I was. Fortunately, I lucked-out And didn’t get caught Wherein all my chances for a better life Would have been ruined And that I would have regretted Every day for the rest of my life. 8. Yes, I admired these guys For their individuality and their toughness − The individuality and toughness that I didn’t have. I admired how they seemed to be able To look Life, right in the face And not only not be afraid But even stare it down Which was something I had always wished That I could do.
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9. Yes, I wanted to be like them But at the same time Not actually be them. I wanted that fictional world That you find in books and on TV Or that you hear about from stories on the street Where you could pretend to be The brash, daring and bad-boy main character But not have any of its attending risks and consequences − Where you could fantasize About dying in a blaze of guts and glory But not actually die. 10. So I sat down at the table Threw in a few chips And told the dealer to deal me in. While I played for a while − And much longer than I should have − I thankfully quit while I was ahead And got out of that all too dangerous game While I still had my skin. 11. Being in the game Even as the cautious player that I was Was a very dangerous gamble With monumental stakes For if luck had turned against me Anywhere along the way and I’d been caught I would have had to buy that tough-guy suit That I only trying on.
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12. Yes, I wanted to be a tough guy But really, it was only for show And only for some kind of identity That I seemed to lack. 13. No matter how irrational or illogical it was I couldn’t resist adopting These neighborhood tough guys As my alter-ego role models. I couldn’t help admiring them In some strange and fatally attractive way. But I thank god That I hadn’t gone completely in And given in to all the influences and temptations Of both my old neighborhood And my own personality For that would have been A potentially deadly combination.
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14. And even after all these years I can’t fully deny That for whatever illogical and stupid residual reasons I sometimes still think about those tough guys In my old neighborhood And admire them In some strange, distant and fantasy kind of way − Admire them Not in every way, mind you But just in some ways − For they had certain qualities of confidence and bravado That I seemed to be missing back then − And maybe in some ways That I still may be missing Today. *****
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y A Good Dump (About My Father) 8-2-2011 Things change with age. _____ 1. Things change as you age Including The things that give you pleasure. And the things that don’t. 2. The things that used to give you pleasure When you were young Often don’t When you get older. And correspondingly The things you wouldn’t ever think Would give you pleasure Might do so when you’re older. 3. Many years ago My father gave me a hint That this phenomenon Might be coming.
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4. When my Father lost my Mom He was distraught For he couldn’t stop loving her And couldn’t move on. So one time When I suggested that he date He turned to me and said, “You know Neil, at my age I get more pleasure out of taking a ‘good dump’ Than I do out of having sex.” 5. I didn’t understand it then But I understand it now. *****
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y My Image Of Retirement (On My Uncle Arthur) 8-6-2011 My retirement role model. _____ 1. I remember my Uncle Arthur After he retired Sitting calm and contented In his comfortable armchair Next to a small book case In the corner of his living room In that little log cabin In Mountain Springs, New Jersey Quietly reading his historical novels Under a soft yellowish lamplight While sipping on his pre-made gin martinis Which he made gallons of And always kept “at the ready”. 2. He looked so peaceful In that little armchair of his − As if he were In some kind of peaceful and meditative trance − As if he somehow had achieved Nirvana.
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3. I remember thinking How wonderfully relaxing retirement must be And locked that image in my head And made my Uncle Arthur My role model As to what retirement Should be all about for me one day. 4. And now that I’m retired That image has come back to me As a model for my retirement. 5. But that’s not the way my retirement Is turning out for me so far For I’ve got a million projects underway With a million more in the planning stage Leaving me with little or no time for relaxation And making me wonder If I’ll ever achieve the peaceful retirement That my Uncle Arthur had. 6. Although I’m very different from my Uncle Arthur He remains my role model for retirement − Having no big list of things to do And living in that seemingly peaceful Shangri-La world of his Just quietly reading his little dried-out And yellow-edged historical novels And drinking his assembly-line martinis before he went to bed After which he probably slept like a baby.
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7. Will I ever be able to get Into the kind of retirement mode That my Uncle Arthur did? I don’t exactly know But I suspect That it may be highly unlikely. 8. Achievable or not − And no matter what the odds are That I’ll ever get there myself − I’m going to keep that serene, relaxed And unstressed image of retirement Alive and kicking in my head For everyone needs a goal And a role model to help him get there − Like my Uncle Arthur is for me. *****
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y What A Mouth He Had On Him (On My Father And Aunt Jennie) 9-16-2011 Aunt Jennie’s upsetting comment at my father’s wake. (Not meant to be disrespectful to her as she was very good to us.) _____ 1. My father loved his sister − My Aunt Jennie − Very much. She was the only sister Among him and his 3 brothers And to whom he felt especially close. 2. He felt especially close to her Not only because she was his only sister But also because she helped him Take care of us and the house for a while Right after Mom died − An event from which he never recovered. She also took us for a few weeks during the summer To her one-bedroom summer cottage In Mountain Springs, New Jersey.
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3. But then Something happened in the family Wherein the brothers had a falling out Over how my Uncle Warren Had apparently gotten his mother To sign over the title of her house to him. Each took sides against each other With Aunt Jennie sometimes taking my father’s side, Sometimes taking the other side, And sometimes straddling both sides In some kind of awkward middle ground. And whenever the subject of the house came up Harsh and heated words were often exchanged Among the members of the family With my father never holding back His opinions and his mouth Which in many cases was understandable. 4. But soon after his angry outbursts He’d cool down and regret having gotten so mad And having said the things he sometimes said And the way he sometimes said them.
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5. But no matter how right or justified He was at the time Or how apologetic he was afterwards It was usually too late For it was his first reaction That everyone remembered most And more than the right or wrong Of the underlying issue. It was a classic case Of form over substance Or, of the nail that sticks out Getting hammered in. 6. And when my father died and was being waked I heard my Aunt Jennie Make a disparaging comment about him. I would have thought that any bad feelings she had Would have been put aside in light of his death. I would have thought that his own sister Would have remembered how much he loved her − At least enough to allow The good things she could say about him Come to the fore And the bad things to remain in the rear. I would have also thought That she would have had a little more compassion Out of love for him And in consideration for us, his children To have said something a little nicer about him In her final words Instead of that disparaging remark of, “What a mouth he had on him.”
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7. I would have thought that his wake Would have been the right time For her to find it in her heart To express some favorable memories of her brother − To say something a little more generous about him And not something That would overshadow all his good qualities − But she didn’t, and rather said, “What a mouth he had on him.” 8. By her sharp and cutting comments She made it sound as though it was the only thing − Or at least the predominant thing − That she remembered about my father Who already had More than his share of pain, Misfortune, And suffering in life, And who should at least be given Some consideration – Or even absolution − For many of his indiscretions. It were as though Of all the statements she could have chosen For her brother’s epitaph As he lay there in his coffin She had to choose Such a belittling and damning one as, “What a mouth he had on him.”
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9. I would have thought That she would have been a little more Christian About the last words she had to say About her dearest and self-defeating brother Who loved her dearly And who’d been, overall, a good and responsible man But who sometimes just had so much trouble Managing his anger and his image. I would have thought That her comments about him Would have reflected the best of what she knew of him And that she would have kept Those junk-yard-dog comments of hers at bay And locked up in their pens. I would have thought That she would have chosen More sympathetic words to say about him − At least at his wake, other than, “What a mouth he had on him.”
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10. Although she had the right to say whatever she wanted I just thought that under the circumstances She would have opted to be a little more discreet About what she said about my father Who was laying there right in front of her In his white cloth-lined coffin And in front of us, his children Who were standing right there next to him. I would have thought That she would have offered A more forgiving parting statement About our father, and her brother For us to remember him by Rather than By those hurtful and pointed words of, “What a mouth he had on him.” 11. And when my father heard those harsh and piercing words − That final, personal and crushing judgment of him From the sister who he loved so much − I saw an invisible tear roll down his cheek. What a heavy hurt it must have been for him To hear those final words And have to take them with him to his grave And carry them throughout his eternity − Those unsympathetic and disparaging words of, “What a mouth he had on him.”
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12. “What a mouth he had on him.” That’s the last thing That I heard my Aunt Jennie say About my father Just before they rolled him out And lowered him into his damp and musty grave. Even in death he couldn’t get a break. If his spirit could recover enough From that brutal stab of hers And muster up the strength For some sort of pained and gasping retort I’m sure it would have been Something as justifiably Shakespearean as, “Et tu, Brutus?” While I remember many good things About my Aunt Jennie I sadly also remember The last and hurtful words she said About my helpless father, “What a mouth he had on him.”
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13. So when some years later When I attended her wake All the good things about her That I tried to conjure up And the prayers I tried to say for her Were somewhat overshadowed By the distractive and unforgiving last words She said about my father at his wake And that facsimile curse that she had put on him Who’d already been so badly cursed by Life itself. Oh how those unfortunate words Still ring inside my head − Those biting, judgmental and final words of hers About my father, “What a mouth he had on him.” *****
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y
You Don’t Deserve This (To Christine) 10-6-2011 Life is unfair, especially to the good. (My sister’s death from cancer is now imminent.) _____ 1. You don’t deserve this kind of ending − One that’s so full of pain And so early in your years. 2. You don’t deserve To have to cry and worry about Those you’ll leave behind. 3. You don’t deserve to leave us all this soon Nor do we deserve to lose you − You who are so central to the family And whom we love so much. 4. You don’t deserve to suffer like this When there are so many others Who are so much more deserving.
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5. We always knew that Life was unfair But to rub our noses in it like this With your early departure Is really above and beyond. 6. But if Fate can’t be changed Then all we can do Is take some comfort in knowing How blessed we’ve been Over all our years In not only having A close and loving family, in general But also in having you, Chris, in particular For the precious time we did. *****
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y All Out Of Sequence * (Taking My Place) (On Christine) 10-8-2011 Being the oldest I thought that I’d be the first to go. _____ 1. With my being the oldest of my brother and sisters By all that’s right I should have been the first to go But instead my younger sister, Chris Is sadly taking my place. 2. If everything were on schedule And in their proper order My name would have been The first to be called. But now, everything’s so off schedule And all out of sequence. 3. The way that I figured things would turn out Aren’t turning out that way at all For Chris is leaving way ahead of me And there’s nothing I can do about it.
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4. The dominos in the family have now begun to fall But not in the order they should be falling − Not from the beginning of the line But rather from the middle. Dear God, why have you allowed everything To get so out of sequence And so misaligned? 5. Dear God Please take another look at things And how they’re turning out And correct the honest mistake That you’ve apparently made. And don’t worry, God I won’t tell a living soul of your mistake And promise to keep it a secret Between the two of us. 6. Please God Find it in your heart To correct this little glitch In your design That would be so easy for you to fix And realign.
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7. Please God Please correct your inadvertent error And put Chris back in the line And back on schedule So she can have her life back And I can free my soul From this self-imposed guilt That I now carry Knowing that sadly She’s taking my place. 8. Please Lord Put our dearest sister, Chris Back on schedule And in the proper sequence So we can have her with us For the time that we had originally planned on − While it wouldn’t mean so much to you, God It would mean everything to us. *****
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y Welcome Back Chris (We Knew You’d Find A Way) (To Christine) 10-10-2011 On the news that my sister is going into hospice. _____ 1. In these past three plus years You faced down your cancer Which had sorely underestimated The fight you’d give it. 2. You fought it longer and harder Than anyone expected And gave it the fight of its life. So many times you fought it to a draw And sometimes Even made it back down. How many others can say the same?
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3. But there’s just so much that one can do Against such a formidable adversary And one who’s so practiced at it Having taken so many lives before. How long can anyone hold out Before being overwhelmed? How can you hold back An ocean wave? 4. But when, with God’s consent That wave finally comes And takes you to Him Knowing you I’m sure the fight in you Will not be over even then For just as you had fought it and found a way To stay with us for as long as you have I know that after you get settled In that other world You’ll somehow find a way To come back and visit us now and again. 5. So when I sit alone some quiet night In my dark and empty room With my glass of wine I’ll be listening and looking For your silent and filling presence.
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6. If there’s any door or window where you’ll be I know you’ll use it to make your escape And find your way back home to us Where we’ll all be waiting to greet you With tears of joy in our eyes, “Welcome back, Chris We knew you’d find a way.” 7. And if you should somehow Lose your bearings along the way Please use the sound of our beating hearts − Beating with our love for you − As your homing beacons To get you back to us Where you’re so sorely missed. 8. And when you do arrive Look for us, Your brothers and sisters, In that circle of four. And within that circle Look for the place That we’ve kept reserved for you Ever since you left.
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9. And as you enter the circle Take hold of the open hand on your right And the other one on your left And make the circle whole And total five again − Four alive in body And one alive in spirit − All together once again. “Welcome back, Chris We knew you’d find a way.” *****
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y When We Danced At Your Wedding * (To Ingrid) 11-13-2011 Remembering what my sister said to me when we danced. _____ 1. It’s funny how you remember certain things And that stay with you And so often come to mind. 2. When my youngest sister, Ingrid, first got married We danced a brother-and-sister dance At her wedding reception in Brooklyn And when it ended, she whispered to me, “I love you.” 3. I’m not sure if I reciprocated in words As I’m always reticent and guarded About expressing myself so openly But silently, inside of me I know I said, “I love you too.”
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4. And now Even after so many years have passed Those cherished words of hers Which meant so much to me back then Still come to mind And mean even more to me today. 5. I never forgot those three little words, “I love you”, That my baby sister Ingrid Whispered to me that night − Nor will I ever. *****
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y Man Hugs 11-15-2011 A little humor on men hugging. _____ 1. Times and customs change. In the “old days” when men greeted each other They shook hands And that’s what I got used to growing up. But times have changed In that now when men meet They often hug each other.
2. Being from the “old school” I don’t feel so comfortable hugging men. If someone hugs me of course I’ll reciprocate To be polite And to show that I’m “with the times.” And although it’s all OK by me It still takes me a little getting used to.
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3. I have less problem with family As family is family And I love them all dearly But I can’t say That I still don’t feel a little awkward. 4. I sometimes try to pre-empt the hug By sticking out my hand some obvious distance away But it often doesn’t work so well For as soon as we lock hands I’m pulled in chest-to-chest And get that macho bear-hug. 5. While it’s a guy thing for them And while I’m slowly getting used to it It’s still not totally a guy thing with me And something I’m not completely used to, yet. 6. Why? Why? − I don’t know exactly why But in addition to it being a generational thing I guess it also has to do With my feeling uncomfortable In displaying my emotions so openly − So intimately − So “touchy-feely.”
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7. I’ve also noticed Some men kissing each other on the cheek When they meet. Although that hasn’t caught on So much as yet I’m dreading the time When it might. 8. Since changes in the times and customs Usually take a while to occur Maybe I’ll luck out And be dead before I see the day When I’ll be kissing some guy on the cheek. Hugging is one thing But kissing Is a whole other thing. *****
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While You’re At It (Why Don’t You Take Me Too) (On Christine) 12-30-2011 Depressed over losing my sister to cancer last night. _____ 1. Death, as we took turns Lying down next to her last night You took our sister Chris away. 2. But before you actually took her You cruelly sentenced her To a prolonged period of physical and mental pain As you slowly made her waste away. 3. Since you were determined to take her life Why couldn’t you have at least taken it quickly? Why did you have drag it out for so long Especially, for someone who’s been so good? Is that the kind of thing you are? But Death, I think I know the answer For I’ve seen your mean streak many times before.
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4. And since you chose to show no mercy towards her And were content to watch her battle each day for her life I can only take some shallow comfort in knowing That she took advantage of the prolonged sentence you gave her To tie up all the loose ends in her life And in the life of her beloved daughter, Serina. 5. For all that time you had her suffer You naïvely thought that you were in complete control Never knowing, that in her crafty street-smart way She was putting all her affairs in order So that she could die in peace And have the last laugh on you Before you even knew what she was doing.. 6. You just couldn’t imagine, that she − This little “helpless” thing That you were so cruelly toying with − Could so cleverly capitalize on her misfortune And turn it around on you By using the time you gave her To her best advantage. You never figured on that Did you?
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7. So while you were playing her She was playing you − Outsmarting you at your own game And right under your very nose For in her own inimitable way While you were slowly stealing her life away And probably planning some “grand finale” for her end She was taking advantage of your delay By getting all her affairs in order And pre-empting the finale plans you had for her With her own finale surprise for you In that when she finally had All her affairs in order She looked you straight in the eye And took pleasure In seeing that shocked look on your face When she calmly told you That she was ready. 8. Your shock and disappointment Is understandable, Death For you never realized Just who you were dealing with Did you?
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9. But Death Don’t feel too bad about your being duped And your grand finale being foiled As turnabout’s fair play. And besides You still can take some evil, Sadistic, And collateral pleasure In knowing that You not only took her life And made her suffer all that while You also took a key part of my life as well By putting a hole in my heart That will never heal And always have me missing her. 10. So Death − Since you’ve already taken away One of my most precious jewels in life tonight And the hand that I was hoping to hold mine As I passed away − While you’re at it − For all that’s left of me now − Why don’t you take me too. *****
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y The Fourth Dimension (On Christine) 12-31-2011 Still not yet believing that Chris is gone only two days ago. _____ 1. I thought I heard something In the other room. But when I went there I found the room was empty. 2. Then I thought I saw something Out of the corner of my eye − The figure of a woman wafting by. But when I followed it There was nothing there. 3. Now that Chris is gone It seems that the only way I’ll get to have her Is by chasing her ghost From room to room.
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4. While she’s gone from our dimension now She’s probably Not fully settled in her new dimension yet And still trying to be with us Through whatever means she can: Through a muffled sound upstairs, A fuzzy shadow on the wall next to me, A dusty image in the mirror, A blurry vision in a dim-lit room, A faint whisper in my ear, A veil-like touch upon my arm − Just trying to say, “Hello” And tell me that she’s here. 5. She’s a phantom now Trying to reach out to me From that other 4th dimension; A 4th dimension that’s probably: Just another neighborhood next to ours, Another field just over the hill, Another ocean mixing its waters at our common edges; A 4th dimension That’s different from our own 3 dimensional world By only a mere factor of 1; A 4th dimension that can only be felt By that unnourished and unexercised 6th sense of ours Which normally remains dormant and ignored Until it’s awakened by some painful event Like losing a loved one to Death.
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6. Like the tickle of a feather Her presence can barely be felt − Like angel wings fluttering in the night That can hardly be heard − Like a butterfly that can only be chased But never caught. 7. With my missing her so much I can only meet her now In the vaporous borders of our two adjoining worlds As they ever so lightly touch one another now and then − Like two galaxies that brush up against each other And create a kind of porous overlapping no-man’s land − A kind of ante-room − Where the living and the dead Can briefly and uneasily meet. 8. But even though we can meet this way We can never fully meet Because we have Some kind of frosted glass between us Which makes our images blurry, Our voices muffled, And only allows us To symbolically press our palms together Against the glass that now separates us.
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9. All such encounters with my sister Chris Between my world And that other world or dimension That she’s now in Both unsettles and frightens me. But if that’s the only way that I can have her Then that’s the way it’ll have to be. *****
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No, I’m More Than A Little Depressed (On Christine) 12-31-2011 Lingering depression over the loss of my sister Christine. _____ 1. My dearest sister, Chris Is now dead and gone But I can’t get her out of my mind and heart For missing her so much. 2. I never knew how much she steadied me − How much silent support she gave me. I never knew how much more secure I felt Just knowing − Even in the back of my mind − That she was there. 3. But now that she’s gone I can see the stark and sad comparison By using my lingering sorrow and depression As my measuring stick.
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4. I never knew how unstable − How off balance − And how vulnerable I would become Without one of the best friends And biggest supporters − Without my dear and darling sister here. 5. So when I think of Chris I get a little depressed − No, more than a little depressed – I get very depressed For I’ve lost One of the brightest lights I had in my life And am now In this huge, dark, and unforgiving world All for missing her so much. *****
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That New Year’s Eve Call * (On Christine) 12-31-2011 Missing Chris’s New Year’s Eve call. _____ 1. Every New Year’s Eve Chris would call me at about 11 pm or so, “Just wanted to call and wish you a Happy New Year Before the phone lines got too busy.” 2. On each and every New Year’s Eve Chris would call Like clock-work. But now This New Year’s Eve There was no call. “Maybe she’s just a little late”, I told myself. 3. But even as the balloon went down There still wasn’t any call And my lonely room remained Dead silent Waiting for the phone to ring.
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4. I’d always look forward To that faithful Happy New Year’s Eve call That she always made from wherever she was. It was always so good to know That there was someone out there Who thought enough of you To make that special and personal call. I never knew how much I’d miss that call Until tonight When there wasn’t any call. 5. New Year’s Eve and Chris’s call − They always went together − When one shoe dropped The other always followed. But now This New Year’s Eve I found myself Waiting for that other shoe to drop. But it didn’t drop − Not this time − Not this New Year’s Eve − For there was no call. 6. But then Just after midnight I heard the phone ring − I swear I did. “Finally”, I said With a sigh of relief.
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7. Although it was little weak and distant It was her voice − I swear it was − Wishing me a “Happy New Year” Just like she’d always done before. 8. But it wasn’t her voice At the other end of the line It was only The wishful and desperate voice in my head For there wasn’t any call. 9. So here I am At a new and baron threshold in my life Sadly going into the New Year Having no incentive To make any New Year’s resolutions Nor looking forward to anything in the future But rather only pining for the past And knowing that for the rest of my life And all the New Year’s Eve’s to come I’ll never again Get that once-expected and so much loved New Year’s Eve call From my dearest sister Chris.
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10. No never again – Never no more Will there ever be That treasured and much anticipated New Year’s Eve call From my sister Chris. *****
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y Mind Games (On Christine) 1-8-2012 Trying to distance the pain of my sister’s death. _____ 1. It’s now 2012 With my sister Christine having passed away Just 10 days ago On the 29th of December 2011. 2. In an attempt to distance the pain of her loss I’m trying to think of her passing As having happened in the distant year of 2011 Thus making it feel as though It was further away from 2012 Than just a mere 10 days. 3. By mentally quarantining her death into the year 2011 I’m hoping it will stop the pain of her loss From infecting far removed year of 2012. 4. By closing Pandora’s box in the distant year of 2011 I’m trying to prevent the pain of my missing her From escaping into 2012.
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5. Sometimes we need to play Little tricks on our minds To get us through our traumas Like imagining there’s a huge wall of time Between December 2011and January 2012. 6. Sometimes we need to invent Little mind games And build invisible mountains To protect us from our pain. 7. So here I am Playing mind games with myself Imagining that my sister’s death Happened farther in the past Than it actually did – Thinking that since we’re now in 2012 And she died in 2011 That it happened a full year or more ago Instead of only 10 days past. 8. So here I am Playing mind games with myself To ease my pain. But for me it’s no game − It’s a matter of necessity. *****
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y My Family Is Dying Before Me (On My Brother And Sisters) 6-6-2012 My younger siblings are dying before me. _____ 1. I had always thought that with my being the oldest I would pass away Before my brother and sisters And that I would leave them my music and poetry As a gift from me to them – A gift from the eldest sibling To the younger ones. 2. But that’s not the way things are turning out For my sister Christine has already passed away And my other sister Enid is now in a nursing home. 3. Is this a premonition of things to come Where all my siblings might pass away before me? − Where all my music and my poetry Will be all dressed up with nowhere to go And sadly destined To be taken with me to my grave? *****
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y Pictures Of The Five Of Us * (Now Missing Two) (On My Sister Enid’s Passing) 8-16-2012 Another dear sister gone, the second within eight months. _____ 1. What made us all so close As brothers and sisters Were three determinant factors: The early loss of our mother; The difficult time we had with our father As he suffered with her loss; And the good fortune of not having Any conflicting personalities among “The 5 of us”. 2. At every family gathering We’d always make a point of taking a picture of “The 5 of us” But with Enid’s passing − And Christine’s Only eight months earlier − There’s now only “The 3 of us.”
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3. Enid had had a rough and bad-luck beginning as a teen: Running with a rough crowd in Brooklyn; Getting pregnant out of wedlock with Debby And dealing with the drug addict boyfriend/father; Being a single mom; And as the oldest girl of the five of us Having to assume many of the responsibilities That Mom had before she died. 4. But amidst all of her bad luck She had a stroke of good luck When, as if by fate and empathy combined, She met Richie, a good man Who saw something very special in her That made him stand beside her Through all her trials And then take her as his wife. And with her precious daughter, Debby And their son, “Little Richie” They carved out a family together. 5. Enid never finished school And never took a job. It were as though she somehow knew That her destiny lay along a different path Which neither school or work Could ever train her for.
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6. Her destiny was to be Not only A loving sister, A good neighbor, And a dear friend But also a caring wife, Mother, Grandmother, And great grandmother. She was a devoted caregiver To 4 generations of family. This was her calling And purpose in life. This was her destiny. This was her love in life. 7. A caregiver to her family: It was the perfect job for her And something That she somehow must have felt was in her From the very start − Something that came to her so naturally And that she did so perfectly − And something that would touch So many hearts and lives.
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8. I’ll always remember Her easy and approachable personality, The absence of any airs or ego, And her gentle and genuine laugh. I’ll always remember as well All those family Thanksgiving dinners That she and “Big Richie” hosted And all those little crocheted gifts she used to make And give out at Christmas time Each one of which was made by hand And out of love. 9. She always gave so much of herself In the caring for those She loved and helped to raise. And the love she gave Was a love that each one of them Could personally feel. And even in her final days Before Alzheimer’s took her life away That love and caring Was still in her. 10. When “Big Richie” called And told me that Enid had passed away I went out on the front porch And sat in the dark for a while with a glass of wine Thinking of her Over all of our 67 years together And how much I’ll miss her.
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11. And as I sat there I saw the parade of pictures in my mind − Pictures of “The 5 of us” That we had taken at every family gathering Over all our many years together. And no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get them out of my mind Nor grasp my new reality For somehow I always felt And never allowed myself to imagine That there’d be anything other than “The 5 of us.” 12. Though I tried to steer my mind away I couldn’t But rather was forced to painfully watch 2 of the 5 faces in those pictures That I was reviewing in my head Slowly dissolve. 13. It was always “The 5 of us” − That inseparable unit of brothers and sisters Forged out of love and circumstance. It was always “The 5 us” Standing or sitting together in those pictures That we somehow always had to take At every family function as a statement of our bond − A declaration of our vows Of love and commitment to one another As brothers and as sisters − One for all and all for one.
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14. Taking those pictures of “The 5 of us” Was a kind of ritual That we felt would ward off any outside threat. It was a prayer against the thing That we never wanted to think about: When there might come a time When there’d be something other than “The 5 of us.” 15. So now I can’t seem to fully fathom yet This new and painful reality Where 2 of “The 5 of us” Are gone. 16. In the numbered order of our ages With Neil as 1, Enid as 2, Eric as 3, Chris as 4 and Ingrid as 5 All the even numbers – 2 for Enid and 4 for Chris – Are gone Whereby in all the pictures that we take from now on There’ll only be “The 3 of us”.
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17. So now The odd numbers by necessity Will have to close their ranks And make the circle even tighter While we wait for that future picture to be taken Somewhere on the other side Where we’ll all be together again − “The 5 of us”. *****
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y A Hole Overfilled (On My Mother And Father) 11-25-2012 Reflections as a boy growing up. _____ 1. My mother was a devoted mother But I don’t recall her being very warm Or showing much emotion. For example I can’t recall her ever holding me Or telling me that she loved me. But that might just have been A symptom of the days or culture. 2 I seem to remember her being Kind of cold, strict and religious. And when she said her daily rosary at the kitchen table I remember feeling I couldn’t go near her For fear of “interrupting.” 3. I remember also on a few occasions When I tried to approach her About some worries I was having She wasn’t very responsive So I withdrew and kept it to myself. Maybe it was just her way of training me?
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4. While these impressions Might not be perfectly correct And only coming from the perspective of a little boy And not meant in any way to take away Form the loving qualities she had They are some of the memories I have of her. 5. While my mother might not have been All that warm and reassuring She was very importantly A kind of balancing wheel or insulator Between my father and me And the tensions that we had with each other. 6. So when she died I was left totally vulnerable To my father’s demanding personality Which made everything Very tense and stressful. 7. When my mother died A hole was put in me That my father Overfilled. *****
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“Can You Get It?” (On Grandpa Hackett) 12-11-2012 A true story about my Grandpa Hackett. _____ 1. My Grandfather Was a very easy-going And uncomplicated man With no hobbies And no airs about him. And when he retired as Captain From the NYC Fire Department To fill up his time He smoked his cigars, Read the newspaper, And listened to my grandmother talk. And oh yes, and he took in our garbage cans And once in a while He’d have a beer at the corner saloon. 2. Everyday my grandmother would cook Either corn beef and cabbage Or boiled ham and potatoes And my grandfather never complained.
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3. One time when my grandmother was away My father, knowing what a boring Irish diet he had Invited him out to a local Italian restaurant. 4. When the waiter came over And asked what he’d like to have My grandfather said, “I’d like to have some corn beef and cabbage.” With that My father held up his hand to the waiter and said, “Please, give us a minute.” 5. My father tried to reason with him. “Captain”, he said, “You have corn beef and cabbage every day. Why don’t you take a look at the menu And try something different.” So he looked at the menu again. 6. When the waiter returned And asked him what he wanted My grandfather again said, “I’d really like to have some corn beef and cabbage.” 7. The waiter then said to him, “Sir, this is an Italian restaurant And we serve Italian food which is a world renowned cuisine − And besides, we don’t have corn beef and cabbage.”
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8. Then my grandfather After politely looking at the menu For a little while longer Looked up at the waiter and said, “Can you get it?” 9. That was my grandfather – A very simple and no frills gentleman Who just liked what he liked. *****
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My Father’s Old New Shoes (On My Father And “Big Richie”) 12-30-2012 A story about the shoes “Big Richie” inherited from my father. _____ 1. My father had a little problem: He couldn’t resist sales. He couldn’t resist buying anything that was on sale For all the savings that he thought he’d be getting. 2. The problem was: A lot of what he bought on sale He never wore And would just sit unopened in his closet and drawers In their original cellophane wrappings or cardboard boxes 3. So when he died He had a lot of “new” clothes That we offered to any family member Who wanted them.
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4. Well, when it came to Some unopened “new” shoes that he had “Big Richie” enthusiastically said that he’d take them. 5. One day he wore a pair of those shoes To a business lunch In a Manhattan restaurant. 6. When lunch was over He got up and walked out And onto the hot summer street But couldn’t figure out Why his feet felt like they were burning. 7. When he looked down And lifted up his feet to check on them He saw that he had no soles on his shoes! 8. He then went back into the restaurant With his shoes making a distinctive flapping sound And saw the soles of his soles In the middle of the floor.
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9. What had happened was My father had had those unused shoes For so many years in his closet That the stitching had all dried out And easily came apart. 10. So “Big Richie” swallowed his pride Picked up the soles of his shoes And left the restaurant As quietly as he could. 11. That was the story Of “Big Richie” And my father’s old “new” shoes. *****
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y Bring It On (On Eric) 3-12-2013 My brother’s comment precipitated this response from me. _____ 1. I called my brother Eric To wish him a happy birthday And during the conversation He asked me how I felt about My upcoming 70th birthday. 2. Without hesitation, I responded, “Bring it on − Let’s get it over with.” 3. Eric laughed But I wondered if he really grasped The true depth of my cynical response. I believe he did though For in many ways We think alike. *****
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y Like Father Like Son (On My Father And Me) 8-14-2013 The conflicted situation with my father. _____ 1. My father was a good man overall But a difficult one to live with. He was for sure a contradiction Even to himself, I believe. 2. On the outside He was hard and judgmental. But on the inside He was soft and sentimental But somehow just had trouble showing it. 3. It must have been hard for him Living with that strained dichotomy. It must have torn him down the middle Wanting to protect his heart Yet dying to show it.
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4. And his dilemma Became even harder When he did show his heart but got it hurt For it drove it even deeper inside of him In retreat. 5. One way that he showed the softness of his heart And his sentimentality Was by how much he loved my mother From the beginning to the end − And even after she died By so often visiting her grave. His sensitivity was further demonstrated By the fact that he remained Faithfully in love with her Until the day he died. 6. He was a very simple man But the conflicting interplay Of his hard outside and soft inside Made him at the same time Very complicated. 7. Oh how I wish he made it easier For me to love him back then And to openly show it. But he didn’t − Or couldn’t.
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8. And so the love between us Had to remain hidden away And even denied Which was a very painful thing For the both of us. 9. So now his traits Either having been passed down And or engrained in me Account, to some degree, For my own guarded personality For I guess Like father, like son. *****
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y Still Filling Up My Little Books 10-5-2013 Remembering the little books that I kept as a boy. ______ 1. When I was a boy I used to fill up little notebooks With a series of simple symmetrical designs. 2. They weren’t anything great or unique − Just little doodling designs But that represented back then My little mark in life that I could show to others As well as prove to myself That I could accomplish something. 3. Sixty years later I’m doing the same thing Through my music and my writings − Nothing great − But something that would represent My updated mark in life And what I’ve accomplished That would help prove my current worth − For whatever it’s worth. *****
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y Stealing Cars 1-3-2014 Remembering a very dangerous time of my life in Brooklyn. _____ 1. When I was in my teens I, along with others in my “gang”, Used to steal cars at night from Ace Ford on Kings Highway And take them for a joy ride As many of the cars on the lot had the keys in them. And when we finished our rides we would return them With no one being the wiser. (I was facing a number of counts of grand larceny.) 2. This went on for a number of months. But like everything else When you get away with something You get bolder and things escalate. 3. So what we did next Was to break into the dealership itself To get the keys of the cars that didn’t have keys in them And go for our traditional joy rides. (I was now facing many counts of Breaking and entering and grand larceny.)
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4. I remember one time Having to duck down inside the dealership office To hide from the searchlight Of a passing police patrol car. That was scary, but it didn’t stop me − Oh the emboldening teenage thrill Of outsmarting the cops. 5. Then things escalated further To the point Where we were no longer interested in Just joy riding But rather keeping them And that’s what we did. 6. I picked out a 1955 Ford As my personal car, Took it, And then put it in a garage That I rented in the neighborhood. It was risky As the owner of the garage Could have easily turned me in For I looked all too young, nervous And nowhere near having the wherewithal To own a car. (Now I was facing much more serious charges Of breaking and entering and grand larceny.)
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7. Getting mixed up in that kind of activity Brings with it other problems. For example when the word got out on the street That I had a hot car I was jumped in the garage By a guy with a knife who wanted to steal it And we got into a fight. Although I wasn’t hurt badly I still have some of the scars On my wrists and forearms. 8. Then something happened that was even scarier. One time in the winter, while I was waiting for a light A foot patrolman came around to the driver’s side, Tapped his baton on the glass, And signaled me to roll down my window. 9. Instead of complying, I gunned the car forward − But it only inched forward As its wheels were spinning on ice And making a high pitched squealing sound. 10. As the car slowly advanced The cop walked along with it With his agitated face almost against the window Banging his baton on it, harder now, And loudly telling me to stop. Then I saw him reach back towards his gun.
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11. All of a sudden the car caught traction And bolted ahead and across traffic skidding wildly. I ultimately lost control of the car And it hit the curb across the street. I jumped out of the car and ran on foot With the cop running after me yelling, “Stop! Stop!” But I kept on running. Then I heard a loud, “Bang” that cracked in the winter air − He had fired at me! I knew then, that things were very serious But I still didn’t stop running. (I was now facing many counts of breaking and entering, Grand larceny, resisting arrest, reckless driving, Fleeing from a police officer and from the scene of an accident.) 12. I made it to the corner, turned left and down the street Then made a quick right onto the next street And then just a little ways down that street I jumped into the snow bank in someone’s lawn And laid completely still against the hedges. 13. Then I heard the cop yelling to some of the neighbors Who were further down the street And who had come out to see what was going on, “Did you see anyone run down the street?” “No”, they said − “No” because I had jumped into the snow Before I had gotten that far down the block.
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14. I could hear the cop as he was almost on top of me. But I didn’t move and he, thank god, didn’t see me. I waited in the snow for what seemed like an eternity Until I couldn’t hear the cop or the neighbors anymore. Then I slowly raised my head, looked around And when I felt the coast was clear Got up and walked home Looking over my shoulder all the way With my heart pounding hard and loud. 15. Then the torturous days and weeks of waiting began − Waiting for that bang on the door (After the cops had tracked me down From perhaps some of the stuff had in the car} And my being cuffed, doing time and having a felony record. 16. If I’d been caught My life would have gone in a completely different direction And my future would have been ruined. I’d never have had the chance For a college education, A good job and any financial security, Or for any kind of a decent life. Rather I’d be at the bottom of the food chain and society, Have low-lifes for friends, Have sporadic and low-paying jobs, Be living in a tenement, And who knows, maybe becoming A career criminal, alcoholic and or drug addict.
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17. Because of this type of activity And all the other things I was involved with at the time I could have thrown my whole life away If I weren’t so extraordinarily lucky In not getting caught. 18. And now that I am older And fully understand the consequences of things Whenever I think about the things I used to do My heart begins to beat hard and fast, I break out in a cold sweat, And become as scared as I was that day A long, long time ago When I was stupid-young And stealing cars. *****
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y If I Had A Mother 1-8-2014 Comments on my development. _____ 1. Without a mother to talk to And the security of just knowing she was there I’m sure has had some effect on my development − Or underdevelopment − For how could it not? 2. And having a father Who was very demanding and critical And who I sadly couldn’t turn to But would rather avoid I’m sure has had its effect as well. 3. This was a very tense and insecure environment And may account to some degree For my somewhat awkward personality, My insecurity and jumpiness, And my not being so comfortable with people.
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4. Was it the lack of a mother, An overbearing and judgmental father, Or was it just me and my genes That made me who and what I am? 5. While it’s probably a combination of all three I often wonder How much was from one Versus the other? *****
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y Trespassing In Brazil 1-23-2014 An encounter with the Brazilian army. _____ 1. “Navegação Proibida” – That’s what the sign said in Portuguese As a few friends and I sailed my boat Into a restricted military bay in Rio de Janeiro And anchored there. “Navigation Prohibited” − That’s what the sign said. 2. While at anchor We noticed a group of soldiers Assembling on a bluff of rocks along the shore. Then we heard some yelling But couldn’t make out what they were saying Or even if they were yelling at us For they were quite some distant away. Then we heard the sound of a whistle Followed by a second And then a third.
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3. Then after a brief pause We heard a volley of what sounded like rifle shots, “Crack, crack, crack, crack.” And when we looked over We could see that the soldiers were all lined up With rifles on their shoulders clearly aimed at us − They were firing at us! 4. As fast as I could I pulled the anchor up, Raised the sails, And began to slowly sail away in the light winds. Apparently it wasn’t fast enough For we heard another loud volley of rifle shots. 5. I want to say that I heard the bullets whistling by us But it might just have been my imagination For when I looked at the sails for bullet holes I didn’t see any. 6. We ultimately made it out of there safely Without further incident And I chalked it up To just another exciting day-in-the-life − Another exciting day-in-the-life That could have turned out to be more Than just exciting. *****
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“Eat The Chocolate” (On My Uncle Artie) 1-29-2014 Following my Uncle Artie’s advice. _____ 1. My Uncle Artie was 89 years old And dying in the hospital. Somehow we got on the subject of health And what’s bad for you to eat. 2. When the subject of chocolate came up As one of the things you shouldn’t eat My uncle signaled to me with his hand To come closer. 3. And with my ear very close to him He whispered with a weak, low and raspy voice − Like Marlon Brando spoke in the movie, “The Godfather” − “Neil, my doctor told me not to eat chocolate. For 25 years I didn’t eat any chocolate. Let me tell you something − Eat the chocolate.”
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4. There was some real wisdom in those words About the tradeoff between The quality of life Versus The length of life. 5. So now I follow my uncle’s advice And “Eat the chocolate.” *****
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y That Little Red Circle Of Blood 1-30-2014 An interesting rural medical experience in Brazil. _____ 1. One time I was in a small rural town Somewhere in the hills of Brazil And caught something From a native Andes Indian girl. 2. I was sick enough To get me to trek down the mountain And get to a clinic That was in one of the towns along the coast. 3. The waiting room was packed with people − Primarily poor farmers and fisherman − With only one person in a white coat Handling almost everything himself As fast and as best he could − And who I wasn’t sure was even a doctor. 4. When it came to my turn He quickly examined me And said I needed a shot of penicillin.
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5. Without further word or adieu He shooed away some flies from an exposed needle That was on a small linen cloth on a nearby metal table, Filled the syringe, And stuck it in my arm − Right through my long-sleeved shirt − No rolling up of the sleeve, no alcohol, no gauze, no band-aid − No nothing! 6. I was so shocked That I couldn’t say anything. All I remember was seeing That little red circle of blood expanding on my shirt And hearing him yell, “Proximo!” – “Next!” 7. While it was understandable that he was extremely busy And not a place where one should expect any frills I thought he might have at least Paid a little more attention to basic medical protocol. But I also suspected that he had a dislike for “gringos” As evidenced by what I perceived to be his “Be-grateful-I-even-treated-you” attitude. 8. Anyway I got two things out of that visit: I got cured And came away with a little story. ***** 253
y A Thousand Soldiers Must Die (On Fred Chen) 3-8-2014 Remembering an incident with my old boss Fred Chen. _____ 1. Fred Chen Was a Chinese partner at Peat Marwick and my boss When we worked together on the annual audit Of our client, the European-American Bank. 2. I was a supervisor at the time And on one occasion I needed to get a report done For the Chief Financial Officer, John Lowe So he could present it to the Board of Directors the next day. 3. So my team of auditors and I Worked through the night And into the following morning − Occasionally sleeping on desks to get some rest − And got that report for John In time for his meeting.
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4. A few days later John met with Fred and I in his office Where John mentioned to Fred that he had learned That my team and I had worked all night So that he could deliver his report to the Board And that while he was very appreciative of our efforts He felt bad that we had to work all night. 5. With that, Fred held up his hand And stopped John from saying anything more And then said, in a firm and authoritative voice, “John, did you get your report and present it to the Board?” “Yes”, John replied “Then don’t worry about it, John”, Fred continued, “For just remember A thousand soldiers must die To make one general famous.” ~ That was Fred. *****
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y The Shoe Polish Solution 3-8-2014 Riding on the Utica Avenue bus in Brooklyn. _____ 1. When I was growing up in Brooklyn I used to take the Utica Avenue bus To high school. 2. There were many poor and working class people Who rode that bus And I remember sitting behind one of them And noticed that he had used black shoe polish To cover the bald spot he had on the back of his head. You could see it And you could smell it. 3. Not having the money To get a toupee Or to do something more refined or professional It was a poor man’s solution to a problem On the Utica Avenue bus. *****
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y Cruel Tradeoffs (On My Mother And Father) 4-22-2014 A blessing and a heartbreak. _____ 1. With my losing my parents early in their lives I was spared From having to care for them When and if they became old and debilitated. And likewise They were spared From being in that helpless and humiliating state That so often comes with old age. 2. While it may have been a backhanded blessing In that respect It was also a heartbreak For I didn’t have my parents long enough To fully appreciate them And show them my appreciation For all the sacrifices I know they made − Now that I am older and a parent myself.
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3. And sad it is for them too For having died early For they missed the opportunity To receive that show of respect and honor from me Which is always the greatest honor a parent could receive − Namely, the respect and show of love From a grateful child. 4. Oh how Life is full of cruel tradeoffs As in the case Of my parents and me. *****
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y Throwing That Ball Of Clay In The Air (On My Mother) 4-27-2014 Trying to approach my mother about something. _____ 1. I was all too sensitive about life Ever since I can remember. 2. On one occasion When I was about 7 or 8 I was particularly depressed about something And wanted to talk to my mother about it. 3. I remember inching my way closer to her With a little ball of clay in my hand That I kept throwing up in the air As a way of distracting myself from my problem And helping me to hold myself together And not break down crying While I tried to build my courage up To talk to her.
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4. She was washing the dishes Under that dull florescent light That was in the center of our kitchen ceiling. I thought that with my breaking voice And my numerous attempts to say something That she might see That I was distraught about something And needed to talk. But she either ignored me Or just didn’t pick up on it And kept on washing the dishes. 5. I can still hear the water running And the dishes clattering around in the sink. I can still see That dull yellowish florescent light Flickering every now and then And still feel That lump in my throat. 6. Mom was kind of cold as I recall. She had that hard, stop-your-whining Irish in her And didn’t show much emotion. She wasn’t cold on purpose I don’t think But she wasn’t warm and inviting either Or touchy-feely in many ways − Again as best I can recall. Or on the other hand Maybe it was just me And my over sensitivity.
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7. So with my being timid And her being a little standoffish I never got it out and off my chest And went to bed that night With that big lump in my throat. *****
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“Sorry Richie” (On The Death Of “Big Richie”) 5-2-2014 Feeling bad for not having said anything at his wake. _____ 1. At “Big Richie’s” wake The minister asked If anyone Would like to say something about him. 2. He caught me off guard And I couldn’t collect my thoughts Fast or clear enough to say anything off the cuff. 3. I thought perhaps his children or grandchildren Might say something, but they didn’t. Then after a brief silence His son-in-law Joe at least spoke up and said something, That “He was a cesspool of information”, But I felt that that was a little awkward And might be misleading.
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4. I wanted to say something a little better than that But as I was trying to collect my thoughts Time ran out And the minister moved on with the ceremony. 5. There were so many nice things in my heart That I could have said about him But just couldn’t get them organized And up onto my lips in time. 6. Richie loved my sister Enid And literally saved her from the streets When she was young and Brooklyn-wild And I was always indebted to him for that. He also loved and cared for her all his life Even through her last days When she was suffering from Alzheimer’s. 7. He was a moral and good natured man. He was a good husband, father, grandfather and uncle As well as a good brother-in-law. He was an integral part of the family And always willing to help out. He was a veteran and a patriot. He was a gentleman and always respectful. He also had a good sense of humor And I always felt comfortable talking to him.
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8. In short, he was a good man And there were so many nice things That I could have said about him And felt bad that I wasn’t quick enough to say them Before time ran out. 9. “So Richie Please accept my sincere apologies For not having said anything at your wake That you could have taken with you personally from me For you were one of the best And I loved you like a brother.” *****
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“All’s Well That Ends Well” (For My Parents) 5-18-2014 Wishing I had my parents longer. _____ 1. Oh how I wish my parents were alive So I could show them How grateful I am to them And see it in their faces. 2. Oh how I wish That I could have them over for dinner With me and their daughter-in-law and grandchildren And have them feel they’ve reached The highest and fullest point In any parent and grandparent’s life. 3. Oh how I wish That I could have had my parents for longer than I did So we could have smoothed out and healed in our latter years All the bumps and heartaches of our earlier years.
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4. Oh how I wish I could have had my parents For a full and healthy nurturing span of time And had a normal and loving relationship with them Instead of that short, spotty and broken one That left me as one of the walking wounded With a hole in his heart. 5. Oh how I wish That I could have my parents here with me now To make up for some of the things we didn’t have together − To repair some of the things that were broken And to fill in some of the empty spots Enough at least be able to say, “All’s well that ends well.” *****
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y Shoveling Coal And Hanging Out The Clothes 6-26-2014 Remembering two things when I was growing up at home. _____ 1. When I was growing up in Brooklyn It was in the day When we had an old coal furnace For our hot water and heat. It was also in the day When we’d hang out our laundry to dry On a long clothes line In the back of the house. 2. I remember when we’d get a load of coal delivered Every week or so And have to open up the little basement window To receive the coal chute. I remember that scraping, tumbling, rumbling sound As the coal came barreling in And piled up chest high on the cement floor And the thick cloud of coal dust That hung in the air Until it eventually settled.
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3. I remember each night Shoveling coal into the furnace: Opening the furnace door And seeing that bright orange glow And feeling that blast of heat; Hearing that scraping sound of the rusty iron shovel Against the cement floor Which gave you goose-bumps Like you’d get when someone scraped his finger nails Across a chalkboard; I remember lifting those heavy, backbreaking And off-balanced shovelfulls of coal And shoveling them into the furnace; And when you finished Hearing that unoiled squeaking and clanging sound As you slammed the furnace door shut. 4. I also remember Mom hanging out the laundry: Clipping those wet heavy clothes onto that long sagging clothes line With her big bag of wooden clothes pins And seeing all our clothes and bed sheets flapping in the wind And then witnessing the panicked rush to take them in Whenever it started to rain. 5. These are two of my memories That just came to mind Of when I was growing up at home. *****
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“You Don’t Understand, Neil” 9-27-2014 My friend was an alcoholic who always had to fight it. _____ 1. When I was growing up in Brooklyn I had a friend who was an alcoholic But who’d kicked it. 2. One day I was over his apartment − A 5 story walk-up − And we were sitting in his kitchen talking. 3. He got busy doing something And so asked me to get something for him From the kitchen cabinet that he pointed to. 4. When I opened the cabinet door I saw a full bottle of whiskey there. I was surprised And mad.
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5. “Hey Joey”, I said in a sharp tone “What’s with the whiskey − I thought you were off the stuff?” 6. With that He turned to me and said, “You don’t understand, Neil When you’re an alcoholic You’re always an alcoholic And will always have that monkey on your back.” 7. He continued, “You see, I put that bottle Right next to my cereal bowl Because every morning when I have my breakfast I see that bottle − It looks at me And I look at it And I say to both myself and that bottle, ‘Not today, not today. ” 8. “When you’re an addict, Neil You’re always an addict And you’ll always have to confront your demon every day And make that daily decision. You can’t run from it. But rather you have to face it square-on Every single day.”
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9. I’ve learned a lot of lessons In my old neighborhood And this was one of them. *****
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f Family Tree Information The following information might be helpful in understanding the family relationships (i.e. spouses, children, aunts, uncles and cousins) that are the subjects of some of the poems in this volume: My mother (maiden name) and father: Enid (Hackett) and Stanley Michelsen My siblings and their (spouses) and (children): Enid (“Big Richie”) (Debby and “Little Richie”) Eric (Rosanna) (Donna and Laura) Christine (Gino Sisto, Joe Capobianco) (Serina Sisto) Ingrid (Billy Mittnacht, Sr., Ray Mortenson) (Billy Mittnacht Jr. and Jennie, Eric and Kraig Mortenson) My father’s siblings and their (spouses) and (children): Jennie (Artie) John (Betty) (“Little Johnnie”) Arthur (Emma) (Betty Anne) Warren (Rita) (Warren, Jr.) My mother’s sibling and his (spouse) and (children): Jack (Dolores) (Jack, Loretta, Dennis) *****
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