an old writer and his words

  • AND EVERYWHERE

    Where was my family from?Russia and Poland, mostlyby way of England and Austria,within nervous stop at Ellis Islandjust before the great warchanged everything for all time.Actually not. Not mostly Polandor Russia, the war not a changeof anything really, at mosta precursor of a greater war.You, too, questioner, may be dead nowspeaking from a plot in…

    Lou Faber

  • THE SON SETS

    My adoptive mother said:I chose you from all the others.My adoptive mother meant:when the wheel of fortunestop spinning the arrowpointed you and that was that. My “brother,” biological sonof my adoptive parents said:we have always thought of youjust like a brother.My “brother” meant:we were stuck with youthough you weren’t even half to us. When my…

    Lou Faber

  • WINDOW 101

    I thought I heard the weatherman say there will be intermittent weather tomorrow. Perhaps I misheard, and in a rare moment of absolute honesty he said there will be intermittent periods when the forecast will be accurate tomorrow. That was probably it. It makes sense, and there is a fair chance it will prove to…

    Lou Faber

  • WIDOWER

    In the cold nightof another winterhe stares outacross the barren fieldswhich have long forgottenthe taste of the sun.He watches carefullyfor a signbut the naked branchdenies the breeze.He remembershow it once wasin the heatof the dying firethe sweetness of her lipslingering on his tongue.She is gone, has beenso long, her faceis hiddenby the gauzy veilof time.He…

    Lou Faber

  • SO TO SPEAK

    One of the obvious problemswith growing older is the tendencyto begin using phrases you always detestedwhen young: “back in the day,” and it’sequivalents maddened you in your youthand are now a common element of your vernacular. Worse still is the knowledge that the dayswhich you seem to lovingly recallweren’t all that good as you lived…

    Lou Faber

  • A CITY OUT THERE

    Somewhere out therein a city strugglingthere is a man dancingin the reflected lightof a street lampto the sound of the wind,there is a couplecaressing each other,wishing for just onecigarette,there is a babycalling for its motherfor a meal,there is a carparked in a drivewayits lights fadinginto the bleakness,there is a neon signflashing OPENinto the void of…

    Lou Faber

  • SIMPLY MAGIC

    The magic of jazzis not what you think –there is nothing randomeven in the wildest, inthe acidest of solos. Cacophony is randomnessand the key to jazzis to see theinvisible logic,read the mind,be the mindof the musician. It is zen, but onlyif you stop searchingand just be in itsmoment.

    Lou Faber

  • UNDERWOOD

    When I stood in Hemingway’s studyin Key West, I was certain thatthe old Underwood portable probably hadat least one if not moregreat novels in it, and Iwould gladly be the one to unburden it.Then I paused to wonderwouldn’t Ernest have taken hisUnderwood portable with himto Ketchum, Idaho, and how couldMary be sure none of his…

    Lou Faber

  • CALLING

    As I age, I more willingly accedeto the sirens call of sleepfor as night washes over mepulling up its blanket of starsshe takes me on a voyageto destinations she willnot disclose until our arrival.The journey may be pleasantor the seas of night can beroiling, but her grip is firm.But in her never certain worldage can…

    Lou Faber

  • THE ULTIMATE PATH IS WITHOUT DIFFICULTY

    How long have youwandered about searchingfor the correct path?Clearly you have notfound it but you refuseto give up the searchcertain it is there.Will you recognize itif you stumble across it?How do you decidewhere you should look?Look down, you arestanding on it as you havebeen since you began. A reflection on Case 2 of the Blue…

    Lou Faber