an old writer and his words

  • ILL SUITED

    My father wanted to takeme to buy my first suit, saidhe knew a tailor who couldfashion one perfect formy pending Bar Mitzvah,a nice wool blend, he said. Mother about threw a fit.“Take him to the departmentstore or even Goodwill,for God’s sake, he’s onlygoing to wear it once.” My father had learnedthat some battles are bestleft…

    Lou Faber

  • ON THE MANTLE

    Perhaps it is just that Ido not have a mantle on whichto place the cherished artifactsof my life, my parentsand grandparents photos,a family Tanach, the tallismy first adoptive father woreto his Bar Mitzvah. I have nothing, which this dayseems sadly appropriate,for their history really isnot mine, never was, Isimply borrowed it for a timebut all…

    Lou Faber

  • FOR ETERNITY

    Mother goneresting perhaps next toher daughter who lingereduntil even she grew tiredof battling the cells thatwere slowly consuming her,now with someone to continuetheir argument for the restof eternity.

    Lou Faber

  • THEM, AGAIN

    They say that you shouldnever approach or toucha small bird, lest it he shunned,perhaps to death, by your scent. I’ve never been one to listento any “them” with whom Icannot argue face to face,and so seeing the small bird on the ground curledin its nest, staring upat the branch from whichshe parachuted groundward I scoop…

    Lou Faber

  • ADOPTION

    Without choice, I, evicted from the wombNot cast aside, despite what I would see,Too soon carried into an unknown room and gladly taken up, offsetting gloom,and soon another child, I becoming we.Without choice, I evicted from the womb was there to watch him fall into his tomb,leaving her with grief weighing heavily.Too soon carried into…

    Lou Faber

  • COOKBOOK

    As a youngster I thought I hadconvinced my grandmotherto one day entrust me withthe old family recipes, sincemy mother wanted little to dowith the kitchen and less withanything that came from “there.” It was a bit of a shock to learnyears later that grandma wasborn in London, that her mothershared my mother’s dislikefor the kitchen…

    Lou Faber

  • NEVER, STILL

    I know what you did not tell them,that much I could learn for myself,but what did you tell them? I knowyou were full figured, I think thatis the acceptable term, once it wasReubenesque, but someonemust have noticed something. Maybe those at work, sitting at theirterminals didn’t notice, you cameand went, few friendships perhaps,but you were…

    Lou Faber

  • JUST ONE MORE HAND

    My parents, well my father,always felt is was necessaryto stop on the way to our summer homein the Western Adirondacksto visit Uncle Morris, who mayor may not have been an unclein the blood sense, it was never clear.It was he who sold my father the cottagenear the small lake, he who nowlived in a nursing…

    Lou Faber

  • PARENTAL MOMENTS

    My adoptive parents diedsix years apart, I receivedtwo announcement textsfrom the son they had together. We negotiated her obituary,and I am waiting for her funeral,but after seven years, I havegiven up hope of that happening. I did visit my birth mother’sgrave, placed a small  stone on hers, watered the groundwith tears of sadness and joy at…

    Lou Faber

  • TOO MANY COOKS

    I can still recallthe day my motherwas ecstatic on learningthat everything grewout of a primordial soup.It was proof, shewas certain, of a JewishGod, even if he didn’tdo it all with his own hands.And, with a broad smileshe said, I’m fairly certainat the soupwas chicken, maybewith kreplach on the side.

    Lou Faber