Steeped in poetry

This morning while bicycling I was talking to my boss, Rose, who hired me to read poetry at her husband's funeral. I googled Wetzel and Sons Funeral Home and looked at photos of their 3 locations.

Wait a minute, I said. I'll put the funeral home in my novel. Perfect! And so my Julius Pulaski was buried thru Wetzel and Sons just down the street from the authoress Ruth Z Deming. Daresay I won't give away the plot,

As I told Ada and Rich on our whirlwind trip to The Big Apple on Wednesday to see the 2 pm matinee of the superb musical Fela, the characters did indeed take on a life of their own. Just like it's supposed to happen. It only took two years for them to finally come alive on the page and dosey-do together without my interfering.

I apprised my editor, the novelist Nicole Bokat, that I finished the first draft and will revise it within 10 days. Then I email it to her in 17 chapters and await her response.

Meanwhile I've gotta get ready for my funeral tomro. Rose picked out the poems she and her deceased husband loved. I can't tell you how wonderful it felt to sit on my living room rug this morning and read thru the poems, whispering aloud so I wouldn't awaken the ghosts of Sarah and Dan when they lived here, the cats Xena and green-eyed Chaz (who appears in the novel), and also of Simon, when he lived here, he's reincarnated in my novel as Pulaski, I think he'd be very pleased by what I've written.

Hold on a minute and I'll summon the ole fellow, Simon, are you there? Ah, he's sitting in the kitchen, pulling out a Marlboro Lite - uh-uh, Simon, no you don't, remember that's what killed you - he's wearing his light blue denim shirt and dungarees. You should see his huge feet. He was a big man, six-four.

What's that, Si? Homemade bread? Sure, help yourself, it's on top of the fridge. The butter's softening on the table. Everyone thinks I'm nuts for keeping the butter out on the table. I learned it from the Turnocks who lived next door to us in Shaker Heights plus a woman from Peru who lived in Married Student Housing in TX.

Ain't our memories something? When they work. I tried to quote Dover Beach to Rose but unbeknownst to her I was quoting both Dover Beach by Matthew Arnold and John Keats' Upon First Looking into Chapman's Homer.