Friday, April 19, 2013

Happy Birthday Aunt Selma Greenwold - She's 95, her mom Eva lived to 98

Assembling the parts of my home-made card in the downstairs of my house
Did the painting on the screened-in back porch - so as not to breathe in the paint fumes - tripping over the porch furniture Judy Diaz gave me before moving to Boulder. Told me when we chatted last nite that they're having blizzards - and I don't mean the Dairy Queen kind.
I went thru my trash and selected papers to write captions on. My sister Donna will be hysterical when she reads the people I remembered. 

Wanted her to come over but she was exhausted since she 'opened' at Starbucks this morning.

I forgot to include among the 'shades' my brother David Richard Greenwold until I saw his photo downstairs. Oy, I felt so sad as I pasted his name on the card.

The card is reversible with separate messages on each side. 

Am gonna wait to mail it until Scott gets up shortly. I want him to see my handiwork. 

Family will attend Selma's b'day party at her house on Silsby Road in Cleveland Heights, Ohio, near our childhood home. 

Her son/law Jack Fogel will cook the meal. Selma has macular degeneration, gotten late in life, but she'll enjoy herself anyway.

She has the most fantastic family. My mom wants to drive out to Cleveland to spend time there. I'm game! 

April 22, 2013

The house on Silsby Road once
rang with life
we ran up the porch steps
into a living room-dining room
filled with art and literature
a blaring TV 
everything that meant safety –
security – a million more
tomorrows – and
dark futures barely glimpsed except in
the Press and the Plain Dealer
The Cleveland Jewish News
Chevy in the drive – brisket in the oven
pop chilling on the back porch
the gods allow all this
a temporary reprieve as we glide up
the escalator of years

Selma’s a party girl
her steep flight of stairs keeps her young as
when she and Marv were married
Did he ever leave?
she can close her eyes and see him still
handsome high cheekbones
a tough fighting Magyar until he
gave up the ghost on Saint Paddy’s Day

Let the party begin
what a time to be born
the beginning of spring
O smell those daffodils and hyacinth
let them seep through these ancient walls
soft to the touch and fragrant
cozying up to the belle of the ball
Selma Bernstein Greenwold
now and forever more.   

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