SEPTEMBER 2012
CVE REPORTER
PAGE
23B
Reunion
The 3 R’s I do not remember growing up or that moment of thinking how full is my cup and I haven’t yet reached the venerable stage of wisdom acquired through hoary old age I cannot recall when youthful excess matured into middle-aged sensibleness or when optimism morphed into caution and prudence and firm certainties dissolved into nonsense I do not remember when the adolescent became man or when I ceased to be a soccer fan when cricket became the sport of choice or when firm opinion found a voice I cannot recall my childrens’ first walk or when and where they started to talk and now they are standing on their own feet the moment as parent I became obsolete
Fears
The time that is left is about managed decline though for the moment I am healthy and feeling fine but the mortal coil shuffle has already begun and the sex is more urgent and much more fun So I do not regret where all the time went and all the great places I didn’t frequent for time is now precious and I’m not one who skimps I need all my strength now getting old ain’t for wimps ~ ED FRANKS
I fear I have an artistic temperament but no talent I fear I may be thought too flippant I fear places where there is no laughter and people adamant about the hereafter I fear a police siren outside my front door and being thought by others a crushing bore I fear speaking too much and saying too little I fear a dribbling mouth and a shirt full of spittle I fear that this party called life will one day send me into an afterlife without any end what an odd lot we are unique individuals who never existed before slaughter each other in horrific war freedom and security is the dilemma the more you have of one the less of the other the only useful advice I have ever been given is to treat as absurd this business called living to respect your fellow human and control the endless craving and “never push your grandmother when she is shaving.”
Welcome to the never ending high-school reunion Who is fat? Who is hot? Who is single? Who is divorced or widowed? Welcome to old friends and surreptitious lovers Will she diss me or kiss me? Will my level of success be devastating to everyone I hated? Shall I flaunt my trophy wife, my money, my profession, my fame? I realize that there is no measure of success that I may leverage That will impress the nametags I can’t recognize? Because measures of accomplishment are personal Who really cares about success? The popular clique does…I guess When hanging out with people that you consciously avoided People that you removed from most of your life Hey man, I didn’t like you then, are you still a shmuck? Let’s catch up! Let’s hang. It’s been a long time You know, I can read your life on line In reality, it’s more awkward than cathartic Let’s expose ourselves to people we never wanted to see Why can’t we fantasize that we all look the same Let’s exhume our high-school hood and all play the game Let’s be kind and not cruel, smile that Cheshire cat smile Everyone looks great, that’s the rule Let’s unmend old times, overvalue childhood dreams Every stage of our secret life is the same We all grow old playing the capitalist game Hey, let’s get your email, let’s keep in touch Hey, are you on Facebook, Twitter, or Linked In? How about My Space? Wanna be friends? Do you have a chat window? At night’s end, I must confess That I stand at the altar of loneliness. ~ MARVIN HERSHON
~ ED FRANKS Summer without Sam, “My Sam” “Writing poetry after Auschwitz is barbaric” So wrote German philosopher, Theodor Adorno How can you express the inexpressible? How can you remember a righteous man? His gentle wit and lucidity, kaleidoscopically joyous This is the first summer in 28 without my neighbour Sam “My Sam” The 91-year Holocaust survivor and witness died His Judaism was a liability, as it was for the six million There was a sly passivity, he was devoid of bitterness The silent storms however hovered, brooding, always sublimating rage Political storms consume everyone in its path, Sam was consumed A storm… like God is invisible; you don’t have to see it War is the worst kind of storm, a catalogue of metaphors Just experience it! Euphemistically…as if in a prophecy He was collateral damage for Hitler’s ideology Caught in the vortex of the Holocaust The effrontery is hardly imaginable An inanimate pawn in the face of the Nazi onslaught Anyone who experiences torture remains tortured His strong worker’s hands, expressive, wanting to scream But screaming never helps, his rage sounded patrician, phlegmatic So Apart from nightmare flashbacks of the Reich’s moral collapse He was an old man who dreamt death storms A scenario where everyone dies An obscure mission of survivor insomnia Nothing eased his restless passage An apocalyptic chronic kind of post-traumatic stress syndrome Enveloped him, like a mass grave he was buried alive It never left his consciousness, the fallibility of human recollection The open wound of the mass genocide could not be healed He emerged miraculously intact… with stealth indelible scars “I don’t hate them” He said His numbers etched in blue, but there was resilience Through and through Adorno wondered what German culture could mean After the Holocaust… “Perennial suffering has as much right to expression As a tortured man has to scream” ~ MARVIN HERSHORN
For Marty – My Brother I Will Always Remember You, Died April 11, 2012 I look up at the sky so blue, I think of you. As the waves roll on to shore, I think of you more and more… Your soft spoken voice, your faint smile, Don’t worry so much, I’ll be better in a while, I came to visit every day There was nothing more I could do or say. You spoke of things that had to be done… Fix the boat, I need new sails, get a new top for the car! See my new grandson! And so much more I want to do. But God had other plans for you. The night passed, the telephone did ring. Slowly I went to answer it, I knew what dreaded news it would bring Throw my ashes out to sea, That’s where I want to be! Among the waves, the wind and the rain Don’t be sad, I’ll be at peace, never more in pain. ~ GLORIA BRESLAUER An Uphill Progression I strive to be the best human being I know; in doing so I can progress and grow. I strive to relax and “go with the flow,” and never give in to defeat. I strive to hold my life as my own; and if I must, I can go it alone; to rejoice and give thanks rather than moan; and to believe that life is incredibly sweet. I strive to greet each day with cheer; to maintain a joyful atmosphere; to conquer adversity and persevere; and never allow myself to retreat. I strive to heed that voice within; my intuition which prevents me from confounding indecision. I strive to understand everyone’s position; to withhold judgment; to be discreet. I strive to be helpful, loving and kind; to respect everything that God has designed; to keep learning and nurturing my mind. All of this makes my life complete.
~ NORMA LOCKER