So, After I Was Born

 

After I was born, I grew. Tallest girl in my entire elementary school in 5th grade but terrible at sports. Acne, glasses, and braces on my teeth helped to add to my appeal. I walked around the hallways in between class with my shoulders slumped, my head hanging down, clutching my notebooks to my chest and avoiding eye contact with everyone, and then wondered why I was so unpopular. Go figure.

Now that I’m in my early fifties it’s easy to look back and laugh. Back then, I contemplated suicide. But, luckily, I inherited a strong stubborn streak – and I’m a Libra. Ta dam.

All of us have a gift. Each and every one of us has that something special. Ya got let it out.

I’m lettin’ it out.

Wanna come along?

I’m going to start with the now, and move backwards. Otherwise, I’ll just meander and make no sense. And, for me, last year time stopped and has ever since then been not quite right. Time keeps slipping away from me while at the same time looming ahead with dark unknowns, and I don’t have enough time to plan for time. I suppose this is what they mean by mid-life crisis? Oy.

By the way, I guess I should introduce myself before I bore you with the little details of my life like shoppers do in long lines at big box stores. Before I take my upper denture out and get comfortable on you, here: I’m Lis, short for Elisabeth, and I am your faithful and truthful narrator from here on out. As an aside, however, my sister Jeanne tells me that most of my memories are rather incorrect as she remembers them, so you can be damn sure she’ll edit as she sees fit.

I trust her. She’s older than me.

She’s looking up our family tree, and has traced us back to the Dutch coming to New York. I’m impressed both with her detailed investigative reporting and with the fact that we are DAR’s by at least five different branches from our maternal grandmother’s side. I feel like I should buy a ball gown with a hoop skirt and bustle.

Jeanne says I’m our family’s Dorothy Parker. I say that Jeanne is the heart of our family. We both make each other blush, but more with pride than embarrassment.

All of my sisters have skills and talents and tremendous stubborness. I like that. It sort of makes up for our father’s lack of having had a son. Boy, did he want one. He tried…and tried…and tried…and…

Actually, seriously, he loved each and every one of us daughters, and was proud of all of us. I know this. This, I know.

But, getting back to the present, I’ll start with Rob. Oh, ouch. This is gonna hurt. But, also be wonderful. Really. Trust me. This, I also know.

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So, I’m Thinking of Writing a Book

Prologue

Everyone tells me I should write a book. So, I’m writing a book.

I don’t know what in hell to write, but I figure if I just keep typing, everything is bound to come out. What happens after that, I haven’t a clue.

And, neither do you.

* * * * *

Chapter One

To begin my life with the beginning of my life, I record that I was born (as I have been informed and believe) and have now become Miss Havisham – Charles Dickens, and me

So, how did I get here? Well, it’s a long and very convoluted tale, just like anyone else’s. But, basically, I don’t know how I came to be, because I’m agnostic. I know that, being born in October, my parents had a very happy night sometime in January, which makes me a Libra who’s right on time.

I was the third child from the first of six marriages (three marriages, respectively, both parents – pay attention and do the math. I have been asked, many times, to draw family tree diagrams when trying to explain it all. It grows tired.). I am my mother’s third and last child, and my father’s third and not last. Both parents married twice again, after me. So I always felt like a sort of a bookmark, in between wives and children, and other things, in between.

But, anyway, I was born and I was beautiful. My mother tells me so. Pictures prove it. No babies are perfect, and I looked like a miniature Winston Churchill, but don’t we all? I was the non-crying one. Mom loved me for that.

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Self Portrait, by the lb

Trying to stay within my skin

Hide from all what stays within

It all comes out within five minutes

A poker face

I’ve not

 

Loving is what I’ve got

and I love you all

 

And I hope you love me

all 39 of me and counting

 

Let’s see

39 divided

by five

 

That’s a whole lot of my moods

in so many seconds

Whoosh there I am!

Whoosh there I go!

 

What do you know

about what I may know

 

No time

must go

And leave you so

wondering

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For You

Tear filled eyes bring on mosaics

lines blur and colors blend

Regret and heartache

hope and love

 

Sun rises and sets again

Another year

a painting

a picture of us both

 

A vision

a flash

a memory

 

Heart breaking

still beating

tuned to the sound

of a Harley

passing by

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Fake Russian Comey News

Podesta

caught phishing

fed Brazile

a few questions

 

Debbie

What’s her name

Schultz

resigned

 

Got promoted

or demoted?

Added to HRC’s

campaign

 

The campaign

to nowhere

again

 

Electoral college

but who’s gonna

pay for it?

Miss Popularity?

 

MI PA

my pa

in Wisc

got frisked

 

Jill Stein

got attention

does that count?

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November 29

There is nothing you did wrong
love
Nothing you could have foreseen
Children die of cancer, and babies too
It’s nothing that you did

All of us are dealing with the shock
We’re doing the best we can
The holidays are a wee bit frightful
but we’re determined to make the most
of what we can
make the most of, make the most of
and do a whole lot of things in your memory
with a toast of, with a toast of cheer
or a beer
or twenty
or thirty
or forty, but who’s counting

We’re getting by and not forgetting
by ourselves, by each other, by the fire

We know you’d be here, if you could
We hope you know we want you here

You’re loved, forever, remembered well
Our friend, our man, our buddy boy

Four months, three days, away

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If You Change

If You Change

If you could try, tomorrow

to be everything you could be

for me

for you

for us

for everyone

Would you?

How many hours before it would become all about you

again

If you had tried, today

to do everything the right way

for me

for you

for us

for everyone

What would be different?

How many hours today did you even try to do anything

differently

If you had tried, yesterday

to do everything the right way

for you

for anyone

Would I even know you now?

Do you remember yesterday at all or is it just a

blank page

like today

and tomorrow

Nothing written, nothing done

Just another moon, and another sun

Nothing changed, nothing gained

One day sun, one day rain

How many days pass

with the same refrain

How many nights pass

both feeling pain

This must change

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