an old writer and his words

  • AND NOT A PRINCE

    I suppose I could sit hereand emulate Hamlet, questionexistence, lose myself in a bookand when asked what I was readingreply words, words, words untilmy questioner doubted my sanity.But my father is gone, the biologicalone and both adopted onesfor bad measure, and so areboth mothers, so the key relationshipin that play has no underpinning in mine.And…

    Lou Faber

  • THE ROCKPILE

    I was still a child, or mostly so,when he took me to the gamenot because he liked football butbecause that was what fatherswere supposed to do, he had been told.It was freezing that day in the stadiumthey called the Rockpile althoughthere were no rocks, just a fewchunks of its concrete shellthat had fallen off the…

    Lou Faber

  • HAGAR’S SON

    Did you so fear being Hagarthat you deemed me Esau, stolemy birthright, my name, my pastand cast me off into a wilderness?I knew nothing of this, your secrettaken with you to the grave as you wished.Did you consider that I might beIshmael, never knowing my father,adopted into a culture that wouldnever be mine, a child…

    Lou Faber

  • SISTER

    I can picture her sittingin her small apartmentholding a cup of tea.This is Parma, or perhaps,Milan, two of the threecities I visited in Italy.Her hair is long, grayand white, her smile pained.She does not know I existbut we share so much,a father we never metfirst and foremost.We will never meet,for she, too, may be dead…

    Lou Faber

  • THINGS I SHOULD HAVE TOLD MY SONS

    1.You can lead a horse to waterbut if he is agoraphobicyou will be walking home 2.You can runbut doing so on icewill lead to useless bruisingand broken bones 3.a bird in the handwill not be terribly happyand could shitall over your new shoes 4.All good things comeand most go,but bad things lingerif you allow it…

    Lou Faber

  • THE EASE OF FORGETTING

    I have little memory of the manwho was my first adoptive fatherand none of his funeral, two-year-olds,my mother said, should notknow of death at that age.Nor did I attend my grandmother’s,she the mother of my second adoptive fatherbecause 12-year-old shouldn’thave the memory of funerals,according to my mother.I did attend her mother’s funeral,had to because I…

    Lou Faber

  • A FAREWELL VISIT

    My mother no longer visits mein my dreams, actuallyneither does for I’ve had two,the advantage or is itdisadvantage of the adoptee.None of my three fathersever paid a postmortem visit.It complicates things when allI know of my birth mother isfrom a college yearbook photo,but that is how she looked in thosefew visits after I discovered her.The…

    Lou Faber

  • TO A FATHER, NEVER KNOWN

    You were to be my prophetand you played Jonah one morningby clutching your chest at the sinkand dropping to the floor, dead.You left me to wanderthrough Ninevah, a beggartwice robbed of originground pulled from beneath my feet.Why did you flee your taskthe one for which you were anointed.Couldn’t you see our home laid ruinconsumed by…

    Lou Faber

  • MIND

    It takes so little to take you back. It takes no thinking but sensing to take you back.You catch an aroma of a fresh baked pie and you are thirteen and baking for the first time, apple with a lattice top for a parent soon back from the hospital. A song played in memory of…

    Lou Faber

  • RECENT MEMORIES

    Looking through your wedding albumtwenty years after a midlife marriageyou are quickly awash in emotions.There is the joy of the moment, magnifiedduring the succeeding years, andthe rekindled memories of peopleand moments of the day forgottenor lost in the tumult that is attendanton any wedding, first or second.But there is a deep sadness as well,at those…

    Lou Faber