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PURPOSES
Life, she said, is all aboutfinding purpose not things. It was hard to argue with her,as she overwhelmed with examples. Rice filling a small bowlholds an incense stick up and catches the ashesas they fall quietly down.. A cracked plate can situnder a plant, catching any overflow from itscareful daily watering. And old fleece jacket…
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EN ROUTE
We spend so much of our livesimagining we are en route,always on the way to somewhereif often not certain where thatsomewhere might be. It seems we intensely dislikenot being in motion, not focusedon the future, the destination,never wanting to be, seemingto dread being static. Yet the irony is that we,at any given moment, arenever en…
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EIRE
They say you must cherishyour memories lest they slipaway in the night, trying fora freedom you deny them. I remember Ireland, knowingit was home although at the timeI thought I was Ashkenaziand Portuguese, but my geneswere trying to tell me something. I remember driving a stickshift down narrow roads,always keeping in mindthe advice, “if you…
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WHAT WOULD YOU SAY
I am just wonderingwhat you would sayif you were calledto testify about allthat you had seen,all that had disgusted you,all that you condemnedbut did and saidnothing while it occurred.What would you sayif you had no choicebut truth, no shading,no mincing of words,just the harsh lightand you in a chairin an empty room,a disembodied voiceasking endless…
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EGGMAN
When I was a child . . .God, how many times have youheard something prefaced by thoseever frightening words, notscary themselves but whatpainful story they promised. When I was a child we hada milkman who broughtthe glass bottles twice a week,took the empties and envelopewith his payment from theshelf built in the walljust for deliveries.…
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FACING
The face in the mirrorwas surprisingly older today,and I can’t imagine that Iwill ever look that old,at least not for quite some time. I wanted to ask him howhe had aged so badly, but knewthat it would be bad mannersto comment on his appearance,so I smiled and he in returm. I suppose one day I…
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BENT ARROW
He would never understand how time developed a flexibility that defied the laws of physics. An hour, a minute, a second, they were all standard measures. Each the same as every other. Yet lately they had changed, flexed. For the most part they had gotten shorter, shrunken. He knew that wasn’t possible until he remembered…
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LIFE, ABBREVIATION
Arrival noted, 11:30 P.M.delivery normal, babyprepared for agency, motherreleased in two days, babyto foster care, thento adoptive parents. No memories, save one,a fall, bathroom, headbleeding, black and whitefloor tile, radiator harderthan child’s skull. Now 70, the same person,a lying mirror each day,a small cemetery, WestVirginia, a headstonea mother finally,a life of mourning.
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SOONER OR LATER
He is cornered and knows itso he responds as honestlyas he knows how withoutturning away his questioner. “You have a basic choice, “he says, “most likely,and that is do you want itto look like this now, or do you want it to looklike this in say thirty years.If you want it looking likethis in thirty…
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WORDS, WORDS, WORDS
My mother surrouned mewith books, “read, read”she would endlessly say. And if I had a question,“Look it up, it’s why webought the encyclopedia.” I became a voracious reader,skilled at finding answers,never stopping to think. Now, years later, I knowwhy I had to read, whyI had to look things up. What she never said, butwhat she…
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an old writer and his words 