an old writer and his words

  • BUFFET

    At first there is one, a sentinelbut for what isn’t clear. He isthe first of his kind we have seenin quite some time, so we stare.Soon a few, others appear,then five, ten, the number keepsgrowing and all in white as ifthis was a wedding and wedid not get the invitation.But we soon realize that thisis…

    Lou Faber

  • IT’S GREEK TO ME

    They would deny it, of course,just as their progeny do today,but so many of the ills of this agecan be laid at the feet of the Greeks.Two of their inventions have led usinto the hellscape we call thisabnormal world in which we live.The first, of course, wasthe invention of politics, politikathe Greeks labeled it,and aloneit…

    Lou Faber

  • PHOTOGRAPHER

    Photographers we know are struggling,the wedding business has dried up, dessicatedby the years of the pandemic, the tighteningof matrimonial cost belts, no doubt other reasons.Wedding photography is hard on both the coupleand those with fingers on the shutter button.I cannot remember by first wedding, the marriageitself thankfully fading as well with the freedomof time, the…

    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

  • UNUSUAL

    I recall it wasn’t as cold as usualthat early November evening, Iwas standing nervously on the small deckin front of the Indian restaurant.This was going to be my fourthfirst date of my lifetime, notsurprising in the abstract, unlessyou realize that put me on an averageof one every twelve years.Fast forward almost three yearsand I am…

    Lou Faber

  • WHITE BREAD

    He was nondescript, innocuous. He named his dog Dog. His cat was called Cat. He grew daring with his parakeet and named it Wings. He wore beige from head to toe. Even his Sunday best, his “weddings and funerals suit” he called it, was beige. People wondered if his underwear was beige. He swore that…

    Lou Faber

  • ONLY ONE LEFT FOOT AFTER ALL

    We took private dance lessons,she already versed in the dance,a natural grace and flow, and Imoving with seemingly fused hips,unsteady, bordering on clumsy. As we went on, it began to cometo me, never graceful, but no longerembarassing to myself nor her,and the teacher said I could bea natural, a kind and gentle lie. At our…

    Lou Faber

  • THE TIE’S LAMENT

    I still have the tieI wore to m grandmother’sfuneral, one I conducted,but the suit from that dayis long gone, and just as well,for it would be several sizestoo large for the present me. I’ve only worn the tie oncesince that rainy day in Marylandand then to a weddingto balance out the sadnesswith a bit of…

    Lou Faber

  • SEOUL: A TALE OF TWO CITIES

    Namdaeman is a ghetto of shops and stalls, where men squat cupping cigarettes and gesture, their hands grasping stacks of bills, rocking on their heels until they leap up to a patron, asking this price or that, assessing the will of the buyer by the thickness of his or her wallet. An old woman sits…

    Lou Faber