Saturday, February 16, 2013

As My Grandmother Used to Say ...

... well, suh! (aka will wonders never cease) when there was a wholly unanticipated turn of events that made life work out for the better.  And before le deluge d'hiver of the past few days, were Grandma Mamie alive she would have exclaimed twice -- once when the Pope of New Haven announced his resignation and the other when the Pope of the Rest of Youse announced his.

Well, I'm back.  No novel stories to tell about the blizzard.  We were relatively unscathed -- we have a driveway; we had food, heat, DVDs, fiction and copies of the New York Times dating back to 1967, electrical power and a block full of motorheads who like nothing better than using their snowblowers for hours on end.  So, what the hell.  If ever there was a time to sit back and enjoy it, that was the time.  And if you don't count the prospect of having to eat some long forgotten glass noodles crammed in the back of the cabinet (in case of culinary emergency) because there was no getting to a market as a tragedy, it was practically a no foul, no harm event .  Husband No. 1 and I both, ehem, work from home, so it wasn't like the enforced togetherness led to homicidal thoughts, and good weather and bad we always argue about who has to take out the garbage, recycling and compost so why let 3 feet of snow change that dynamic, n'est-ce pas? 
 
I leave you with this:  while it is beginnings that give our lives joy, it is endings which give our life meaning.

Saturday Poetry: The Circumcision (another excerpt)



She hit him with the lion's paw.
He punched her belly
then ran.

She left the cat running --
flopping, twisting
howling and hissing --
to chase my brother
down the hall.

Our head turned to follow the race.
There was nowhere to pass
only overtake.
At first he laughed.
He was 13 and fast.
She was his Mother!
His Mother!
For her, though
this was no game.
Desperate and cornered
he leaped through the plate glass door.

The glass and he screamed.
The crown imbedded in his skull
shone brilliantly
before he fell to the grass
his flesh and blood among the shafts.

He touched his brow in wonderment.
He turned to look at our Mother's face
her body framed in the pane's sunburst
the arm poised for murder,
and galloped from her rage.

She charged to sever him
and came to her senses
in the waning light.
She saw his teammates frozen
with mitts in hand.
The jagged glass.
(The money!  The money!)
My brother prostrate
His face bleeding
My father diminished
Our heart throbbing
The beast growling
Her chest heaving
The arm lowering.