Hard To Believe In Reverse

It's been almost six years and I don't know how many posts. And yet certain ones stand out in my mind: the ones about my name, the one I submitted to the Jewish Week about my dad, the one I wrote right after Yom Kipur about the holy schleppers, the one about Michael and Carmiya's wedding. Perhaps most of all, poems aside, the post I return to most is this one. I think a lot about how we portray ourselves to others. I sometimes catch people trying to impress other people, sometimes one of those other people are me. And - oh boy - do I catch myself trying to appear a certain way. And I pride myself on not trying to appear a certain way, but is that just the appearance I strive for?

I received a check today from the New York State comptroller. It's for real, I had unclaimed funds that ended up in his hands and all I had to do - long story short - is claim them.

I am with cold or flu or something. Been feeling feverish and actually have fever - nice when that works out symmetrical like that, sorta. Been sleeping and sleeping and sleeping, and now not sleeping. I've had moments over the last few days where I felt so weak and drained I couldn't believe it. Thank G-d I feel so much stronger now it's hard to believe in reverse.

I hope for this post to be a long and rich one. I've said that I am not going to post till my book is done. It's done and yet it's not done. The last thing that really needs to be done is the introduction. I think the best way to get this done (in the spirit of better done than perfect) is to post the introduction here. Another favorite post of mine that I've actually posted several times is the story of me and the slide in first or second grade comes to mind.

In searching for the slide story I found this raw poem that I'd - for a moment - forgotten I'd written. I'm not sure what to make of the fact that I was struck by the poem and wanted to know who wrote it, till I remembered it was me.

Aloneness, my dear

Like a shrubbery maze

Uneasy to escape

The comfort she pays

Once during first grade recess the teacher (sub) looked up from her needlepoint and threatened to tell my mother if I didn't stop my reckless behavior. I was climbing the slide the only way that I was unafraid to climb it. I wasn't trying to be bad. I didn't know how to be wild. Going straight up the ladder frightened me. Climbing up the slide itself and then turning around on top and sliding back down seemed sensible. So that's how I always did it. I think of this as an analogy for life, sometimes we do things in a way that works for us, even if it could be easier another way.

With that in mind I hope to work on my intro to my book here - of all places, but not in this post - the next one, please G-d. You ever feel sick and find it hard to assess if you're feeling better or not? To quote the great Alfalfa - me neither. Truth be told, I'm feeling worn and need to continue to cocoon and care for myself. Now is a time to conserve and restore energy.

The plan is to dedicate the book to G-d, Dad, and Mom. The book will be three sections of haiku with no explanation. The intro will hopefully be a weave of haiku and prose. I've been considering how to tweak mention of mom's encouragement of my poetry writing. I've been thinking about it and coming out with poems that don't cut it. I just penned this - not sure if it's a keeper. Maybe.

No haiku can say

how much of you is in me

My mother my book