Announcemt of the 60th reunion of my high school graduating class prompted me to call my old friend Burt, with who I had not communicated in several years. We agreed to attend the evnt and to meet afterward, along with our wives, and catch up. THe "Rose" and "the Wass" were how we referred to each other in those innocent
Bronx Science days. Burt, now retired and living mostly in Florida, is the author of three books of poetry. He sent me his latest work, which has been nominated for a national honor. I sent him a meager effort of my own, Bronx Lyric, reminmiscing about those coming of age experiences. Howver, he is the pro, I the dilettante.
As such I wrote:
Sea Chantey
The Rose and the Wass went out to sea
In a leaky pea green boat.
A storm came up, windward and lee
Their vessel would not float.
And one swam south, the other north,
Their lives were torn asunder.
No longer would they venture forth
In lightning and in thunder.
And each took heed to spread their seed
And conquer demons separately.
Yet each maintained a silent need
To re-connect irreparably.
A line was thrown, a line was caught
A flame was re-ignited.
And two old salts who never fought
Once more were re-united.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Auld lang syne
My dark month is over and with the passing of the winter solstice and the lengtheniing of daylight hours my mood improves. Yet I find myself returning to memories of happier days gone by.
Recently I re-read novelist Irwin Shaw's (1948) The Young Lions, a story of four young people enmeshed in the battles in Europe during WWII. Players change from decade to decade but the horrors of war anmd their impact upon us remain the same.
Last night while search for a TV movie I noticed the 1960 film "Never on Sunday" being shown. I re-watched the delightful fantasy of an intellectual and Greek tragedy scholar, played by Jules Dessin, trying unsuccessfully to reform a fun loving and free-living Greek prostitute (Melina Mercouri). My aunt, now deceased, traveled to Greece with her husband and learned to do the dance featured in the film
An e-mail from the alumni of my high school alma mata announces a sixtieth reunion. The first reunion was only ten years ago. I did not attend, having maintained few relationships from high school over the years. However when I read the list of those already registered, I recognized two of my friends from that time. I searched an old list of graduates and their addresses and called my closest buddy at the time, Burton, who lived in the same apartment house as I and cheered me with his humor all through my adolescent years. There were five of us from the old neighborhood in West Bronx. Two are now physicians--one a brain surgeon in New York City, the other a profesor of medicine at a prestigious New England university. The fourth became a lawyer attached to the State Attorney General's Office. When I searched his address I was shocked to see he had listed his office--the 45th floor of The World Trade Center. I Googled the list of 9/11 victims and was relieved when I did not find his name. The fifth, always an angry rebel, would never attend a reunion and was not listed in my directory. Burt and I lost touch except f0r an occasional phone call when I went off to Cornell and he stayed at New York's City College. He had become a writer for TV comedians after graduation but gave it up and went into the real estate business, where he prospered. He began writing poetry. His third book is about to be published and he has been nominated for a national honor. He was delighted to hear from me and we agreed to attend the meetings and re-kindle our friendship.
So, as we now enter a new decade, I continue to cling to old acquantances, not soon to be "forgot."
Recently I re-read novelist Irwin Shaw's (1948) The Young Lions, a story of four young people enmeshed in the battles in Europe during WWII. Players change from decade to decade but the horrors of war anmd their impact upon us remain the same.
Last night while search for a TV movie I noticed the 1960 film "Never on Sunday" being shown. I re-watched the delightful fantasy of an intellectual and Greek tragedy scholar, played by Jules Dessin, trying unsuccessfully to reform a fun loving and free-living Greek prostitute (Melina Mercouri). My aunt, now deceased, traveled to Greece with her husband and learned to do the dance featured in the film
An e-mail from the alumni of my high school alma mata announces a sixtieth reunion. The first reunion was only ten years ago. I did not attend, having maintained few relationships from high school over the years. However when I read the list of those already registered, I recognized two of my friends from that time. I searched an old list of graduates and their addresses and called my closest buddy at the time, Burton, who lived in the same apartment house as I and cheered me with his humor all through my adolescent years. There were five of us from the old neighborhood in West Bronx. Two are now physicians--one a brain surgeon in New York City, the other a profesor of medicine at a prestigious New England university. The fourth became a lawyer attached to the State Attorney General's Office. When I searched his address I was shocked to see he had listed his office--the 45th floor of The World Trade Center. I Googled the list of 9/11 victims and was relieved when I did not find his name. The fifth, always an angry rebel, would never attend a reunion and was not listed in my directory. Burt and I lost touch except f0r an occasional phone call when I went off to Cornell and he stayed at New York's City College. He had become a writer for TV comedians after graduation but gave it up and went into the real estate business, where he prospered. He began writing poetry. His third book is about to be published and he has been nominated for a national honor. He was delighted to hear from me and we agreed to attend the meetings and re-kindle our friendship.
So, as we now enter a new decade, I continue to cling to old acquantances, not soon to be "forgot."
Sunday, January 10, 2010
New Year
It's been several weeks since I entered a new post. I can't use the holiday excuse as I had eleven days off from work and much time to write. Chalk it up to my seasonal letdown around the holidays and the shorter days (SAD?). Nor can I attest to any new year resolutions. I don't believe in them and assume accountability for tasks on only a daily basis.
That said, we are past the solstice and my spirits are improving, if not my muse. My writing has ground almost to a halt. Shrink and Finding Jackson are out and I have done a book signing. I have two pieces in press--Becca in Cyberlanbd, sans illustrations, should be published shortly. I don't have high hopes for successful marketing without pictures to a children's audience. A short book of poetry, Oliver Twists in America, is also due out soon but will do no better than my first attempt, Bronx Lyric. I have written some pieces on line for Ezinearticles.com and Hubpages with no visible results in books sales or private practice referrals,so I stopped writing for them. I renewed my website (www.shrinksite.com)but I don't think I get many hits there either.
I receive occasional comments on my blog, usually from people interested in dreams and authors of their own blogs. I keep advising them that there are no universal symbols and that they need to associate to and interpret their own dreams.
My work at the high school is rewarding; I see about 20 kids regularly, some with srrious emotional and family problems. How much longer will I continue to do this? I'm not sure. I dislike the driving. Consulting is not what it is cracked up to be when school holidays come around since, unlike regular staff, I do not get paid for days off. However, I am free to manipulate my schedule and take long weekends.
We have discovered the Hudson River Valley as a great place for hiking and exploring Hyde Park and the Vanderbilt estate. From New Paltz, the Shewandunk Mountains are only about a mile or two to the west. The newly opened pedestrian bridge across the Hudson at Poughkeepsie, to the east, is a very pleasant walk on a nice day. The areas was the site of the Hudson River School of painting in the nineteenth cantury--the beginning of naturalistic art in this country. SUNU at New Paltz has an excellent art museum.
Recently we drove to Massachusetts for grandparents' day for one of my seven grandchildren. The first grade teacher asked the assembled grandparents how things were different in our day in school. I responded that desks were bolted to the floor and children were not as free to move around as they are today. The children seemed surprised at that, one claiming, to the embarrassment of the teacher, "We run around all the time." I also talked about the inkwells, blotters, and disposable pen points. We sat at our desks with our hands folded when not otherwise occupied. I did not find school to be a pleasant place but we did learn. My experience now at two high schools today suggests that it is a lot easier to graduate now without doing much work but that bright kids still are as conscientious as we were at The Bronx High School of Science in the late 1940s.
Enough for today. I'll try (but not resolve) to do better at blogging.
That said, we are past the solstice and my spirits are improving, if not my muse. My writing has ground almost to a halt. Shrink and Finding Jackson are out and I have done a book signing. I have two pieces in press--Becca in Cyberlanbd, sans illustrations, should be published shortly. I don't have high hopes for successful marketing without pictures to a children's audience. A short book of poetry, Oliver Twists in America, is also due out soon but will do no better than my first attempt, Bronx Lyric. I have written some pieces on line for Ezinearticles.com and Hubpages with no visible results in books sales or private practice referrals,so I stopped writing for them. I renewed my website (www.shrinksite.com)but I don't think I get many hits there either.
I receive occasional comments on my blog, usually from people interested in dreams and authors of their own blogs. I keep advising them that there are no universal symbols and that they need to associate to and interpret their own dreams.
My work at the high school is rewarding; I see about 20 kids regularly, some with srrious emotional and family problems. How much longer will I continue to do this? I'm not sure. I dislike the driving. Consulting is not what it is cracked up to be when school holidays come around since, unlike regular staff, I do not get paid for days off. However, I am free to manipulate my schedule and take long weekends.
We have discovered the Hudson River Valley as a great place for hiking and exploring Hyde Park and the Vanderbilt estate. From New Paltz, the Shewandunk Mountains are only about a mile or two to the west. The newly opened pedestrian bridge across the Hudson at Poughkeepsie, to the east, is a very pleasant walk on a nice day. The areas was the site of the Hudson River School of painting in the nineteenth cantury--the beginning of naturalistic art in this country. SUNU at New Paltz has an excellent art museum.
Recently we drove to Massachusetts for grandparents' day for one of my seven grandchildren. The first grade teacher asked the assembled grandparents how things were different in our day in school. I responded that desks were bolted to the floor and children were not as free to move around as they are today. The children seemed surprised at that, one claiming, to the embarrassment of the teacher, "We run around all the time." I also talked about the inkwells, blotters, and disposable pen points. We sat at our desks with our hands folded when not otherwise occupied. I did not find school to be a pleasant place but we did learn. My experience now at two high schools today suggests that it is a lot easier to graduate now without doing much work but that bright kids still are as conscientious as we were at The Bronx High School of Science in the late 1940s.
Enough for today. I'll try (but not resolve) to do better at blogging.
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