an old writer and his words

  • YOU

    This year, just before Thanksgiving we will have been together for a quarter of a century, which sounds more elegant than saying twenty-five years. That will be more than a third  of my life, if only barely, but when I stop to think that I have spent almost a third of my life sleeping, the third I have spent…

    Lou Faber

  • YOU AGAIN?

    On the path around the pondthe male of a pair of Sandhill Cranesstares closely at us wondering, perhaps,which if any of us actually belongs here.We more than return his stare, fumblingfor our cameras that claim they are phones,wanting to capture this moment.The crane proudly approaches, getsinches from the arm-extended phone. Is hetrying to see what…

    Lou Faber

  • BENEDICTION

    This is the benedictionI was never given the opportunityto offer, the blessing of a childfor his parents, those who are woveninto his genes, those that cannotbe denied, those without whomthere could be no thought of benediction.I bless the mother who carried meand handed me to the adoption agencyfearing she could not offer methe life she…

    Lou Faber

  • A TROIS

    Each night I crawl under the sheetscurled against the woman I loveand beside me slips your ghost.For sixty years you were no morethan a fleeting dream faceless, nameless,an infrequent visitor to my galleryof hopes, desires, and wishes.You never had a face, did Ihave one you could remember beforeI was plucked from you too soon, youlurking…

    Lou Faber

  • ACROSS A BORDER

    I can only begin to imagine, vicariously,what it is like to cross the borderinto the land of deafness, hear all you knewfade and garble, need vision to seewhat a speaker is saying, wonder whysongs you thought you knew nowhave lyrics you do not recognize at all.My wife is on this journey and nowhas a cochlear…

    Lou Faber

  • WITH THANKS

    On his first business trip to Japan, what he wanted most, after buying the mandatory gifts for his wife, child and admin assistant, and being blinded by the neon lights of Shinjuku and deafened by the sound of the pachinko parlors, was to find Mr. Roboto and thank him. It was something he felt he…

    Lou Faber

  • BUENOS AIRES ON THE GENESEE

    If this were Buenos Aires, if I were Borges, it would all make a great deal of sense. A man, older, and older still if you look closely, walks into an elegant hotel bar. A jazz quintet is playing, straight up, trumpet, piano, guitar, stand up bass, drum kit. The older man is wearing white…

    Lou Faber

  • ADVICE COLUMN

    As I have aged, I have learnedthat when I need advice and my wifeis not available or chooses not tocomment, I can turn to friendsand relatives who have diedfor their advice is usually quiteon point and needs no interpretation.I have not known them to misleador to suggest what I cannot imaginepossible, for they say and…

    Lou Faber

  • THE PARK

    He was taking a shortcut across the park. He saw the clouds building, about to bring the long-promised rain. He wasn’t sure why he decided to walk home rather than take the bus as he usually did. He didn’t like to walk, but the doctor had told him he needed to exercise more, and he…

    Lou Faber

  • ASKING

    Asking saints to intercedeis something quite new to me,having never considered that saintswere people whom I might seek out. I’ve started carefully, onlyseeking saints who hangon my family tree, Margaret,Itta, Begga, Adela, Arnulf, and I’ve vowed to ask nothingfor myself, for karma willsee to me one way or another,so I ask only for those in…

    Lou Faber