THE HOUSE
by Richard Wilbur
Sometimes, on waking, she would close her eyes
For a last look at that white house she knew
In sleep alone, and held no title to,
And had not entered yet, for all her sighs.
What did she tell me of that house of hers?
White gatepost; terrace; fanlight of the door;
A widow’s walk above the bouldered shore;
Salt winds that ruffle the surrounding firs.
Is she now there, wherever there may be?
Only a foolish man would hope to find
That haven fashioned by her dreaming mind.
Night after night, my love, I put to sea.
(The New Yorker AUGUST 31, 2009)
Monday, August 24, 2009
Monday, August 10, 2009
At least Mom got out alive!
I know what you might be thinking. Mom is dead, some year and a half. So that's just ignorant. I say no, no it's not! Mom got out somewhat unscathed. She died in her sleep on her favorite couch, in her most favorite abode. The couch of all transgression, god forbid! When mom broke her hip and was finally released to her home, she had a visiting nurse whom she loved - Anne - St Anne who loved mom reciprocally. She listened to all Mom's political ravings (Anne-sorry to say I always egged her on).
Well, after her hospital rehab for a hip joint replacement, mom was assigned a youngish- ornery physical therapist who came every other day to bark at her. He told her and she then told me that her furniture, (especially her couch) was unacceptable for her to relax on. I said ok what did he suggest we get?
Mom: Who knows? Oh yeah? What did he know? Brat! He was just a young very unhappy man. Well apparently he did himself in (and her consequentially) when he showed up at a random time in the summer. Mom kept her screen door and windows open. He saw her 'sitting on the dreaded couch' and threatened her that if he ever caught her sitting on THAT couch again, he'd personally throw the damn thing on the lawn.
Mom wasn't easily threatened- in fact she took it as a challenge, and she practically started to live on the couch, in utter defiance of the stocky little man who seemed to her to arrive just in time to torture her in some way. Mom and I decided he was just a dick-and he was.
His last visit to her before he imploded was another unannounced visit. Knowing mom she may have been washing dishes and saw him coming and got her butt right over to 'The Couch' and snuggled right in there just to irk him. "Hello? Someone there?"
According to her report to me, he finally imploded and did a Rumpelstiltskin hissey fit and ran out the door yelling back to her, " You will never see me again!"
Mom was gleeful, but guilty, when I showed up. "I finally got rid of that nasty little man!"
What? I thought, another carcass on the superhighway of mom's intolerance?
I was really proud of her, even though I was put into a position to rescue her from the status quo. I wasn't prepared for that, as in why don't they give manuals when you have a new baby? I called Anne. Anne, saint Anne took this all in and also considered when she met up with me, that I was the antagonist, which she accepted without scorn, saint that she was. She came right over and brought a new, unconventional caretaker for Mom, some lovey- dovey- tiny- Korean woman, who babied mom and was very touchy-touchy. Mom was appalled. She hated touchy-feely-gushy people. At the end of this mortal coil for mom, she tried to give up that belief, with caveats. Like forgetting her appointment with the nice woman by mistake on purpose.
Anne was eventually recommissioned and moved on to her new assignment, but never forgot about mom and kept up on all the goings on. Mom continued to believe that Anne was her Guardian Angel- who else could she be? I was inclined to agree.
On Dec 22, 2007, Mom died on her beloved couch. She won in the final inning. She used all of her great talents to unseat the nasties, and for someone who always took the "Golden Rule' very seriously, in the end realized the golden rule applied to her being as well. God love and good deserved rest Mom!
Well, after her hospital rehab for a hip joint replacement, mom was assigned a youngish- ornery physical therapist who came every other day to bark at her. He told her and she then told me that her furniture, (especially her couch) was unacceptable for her to relax on. I said ok what did he suggest we get?
Mom: Who knows? Oh yeah? What did he know? Brat! He was just a young very unhappy man. Well apparently he did himself in (and her consequentially) when he showed up at a random time in the summer. Mom kept her screen door and windows open. He saw her 'sitting on the dreaded couch' and threatened her that if he ever caught her sitting on THAT couch again, he'd personally throw the damn thing on the lawn.
Mom wasn't easily threatened- in fact she took it as a challenge, and she practically started to live on the couch, in utter defiance of the stocky little man who seemed to her to arrive just in time to torture her in some way. Mom and I decided he was just a dick-and he was.
His last visit to her before he imploded was another unannounced visit. Knowing mom she may have been washing dishes and saw him coming and got her butt right over to 'The Couch' and snuggled right in there just to irk him. "Hello? Someone there?"
According to her report to me, he finally imploded and did a Rumpelstiltskin hissey fit and ran out the door yelling back to her, " You will never see me again!"
Mom was gleeful, but guilty, when I showed up. "I finally got rid of that nasty little man!"
What? I thought, another carcass on the superhighway of mom's intolerance?
I was really proud of her, even though I was put into a position to rescue her from the status quo. I wasn't prepared for that, as in why don't they give manuals when you have a new baby? I called Anne. Anne, saint Anne took this all in and also considered when she met up with me, that I was the antagonist, which she accepted without scorn, saint that she was. She came right over and brought a new, unconventional caretaker for Mom, some lovey- dovey- tiny- Korean woman, who babied mom and was very touchy-touchy. Mom was appalled. She hated touchy-feely-gushy people. At the end of this mortal coil for mom, she tried to give up that belief, with caveats. Like forgetting her appointment with the nice woman by mistake on purpose.
Anne was eventually recommissioned and moved on to her new assignment, but never forgot about mom and kept up on all the goings on. Mom continued to believe that Anne was her Guardian Angel- who else could she be? I was inclined to agree.
On Dec 22, 2007, Mom died on her beloved couch. She won in the final inning. She used all of her great talents to unseat the nasties, and for someone who always took the "Golden Rule' very seriously, in the end realized the golden rule applied to her being as well. God love and good deserved rest Mom!
Monday, August 3, 2009
Wendy's Baconator Sandwich
What has the food industry done? They've taken the fat, sugar, and salt; they've put it on every corner. They've made it available 24/7. They've made it socially acceptable to eat at any time. They've added the emotional gloss of advertising. Look at an ad: you'll love it; you'll want it. They've made food into entertainment. We're living, in fact, in a food carnival. - Former FDA Commissioner David Kessler
http://www.democracynow.org/2009/8/3/former_fda_commissioner_david_kessler_the
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
