Happy Birthday, Scottie! - Poem: Lavender Bedroom

Said Scott: I haven't had a birthday party since I was eight years old.

There was no cake at the party. Scott doesn't eat sweets. His grandfather Sy died of diabetes at age 73, going blind in the process.

Scott bought beer, tho neither he nor I drank it, but the guests enjoyed it

Yuengling

At the Giant I bought



My gifts for Scott's 56th b'day were two sets of towels n washcloths from JC Penny at the mall, plus this Merino wool blue sweater.

He was so happy to get the towels since his are all raggedy.

Scott and I both took pictures but forgot his sister Debbie and her husband Danny, who works at Parx Casino in Bensalem. Business is booming, he said.

Childhood friend Mike Kramer and his wife Donna. On Oct. 29, Mike had a life- changing back operation from neurologist Gene Salkind.

Here's Mike's scar from the operation. Mike, following in his mechanic dad's footsteps, was a car mechanic his whole life. That's what ruined his back: lugging heavy auto parts and installing them under the hood.

Cole Kramer, hockey player and ice skater, is Mike and Donna's very tall and well-mannered son. In January he'll go to school to become a HVAC mechanic.



 The Kramers brought meatballs from Sam's Italian Market on Welsh Road, Willow Grove. They were left over and in the freezer from Cole's graduation party in the summer.

Ada and Rich Fleisher stopped by. After they left, people were marveling that Rich, 72, just retired as a radiologist at Lower Bucks Hospital.

"He's old enough to retire?" people said. They couldn't believe how young he looks. Rich was a dedicated jogger for many years but recently gave it up, due to leg pain afterward.

Now he walks for two hours! And listens, as he circles his neighborhood and environs, to lectures on his iPhone.

Too bad you can't see this party platter with meatballs, potato salad from the Giant and delicious hoagie from Angelo's in Southampton.

Scott's mom, Natalie, brought the fab hoagies from Angelos which Ruthie and Linda Barrett scarfed up.

I was surprised Linda didn't bring any of her poems to read.

I put a sign outside the door reading "Scott's Birthday Party. Put coats on bed in upstairs bedroom on right."

I read my new poem Lavender Room. I think people really enjoyed it.

Scott snapped me while I was reading it. Am wearing a forgotten sweater I bought at Walmart. My friend Marion Mulhearn re-sewed the arms which unraveled shortly after I bought it. Be my guest and say You get what you pay for, which is not necessarily true.

Paul Bongart, like Mike Kramer, is a childhood friend of Scott's. Scott's parents got a real kick out of seeing both these guys since they hadn't seen them for over forty years.

Natalie, they said, looks the same, but Dave walks with a walker and like Scott, lost his hair.

Since Paul is a mail carrier, I showed him my mailbox, with HELLO painted inside. "Nice and roomy," said Paul.

I told him I'd wrin a poem for gum-chewing Mailman Ken. It's a 'cinquin' - 2 4 6 8 2 syllables.

MAILMAN KEN

His legs
ache for rest. To
sit on the front porch, sip
his beer, wave to his neighbors, and
forget.

Linda and Jane Barrett. Since Natalie is giving away her treadmill, which I enjoyed treading on when I would go over, I found a new home for it...... at the Barretts. Linda's brother Brian, who lives near them, and Scott will disassemble it, and schlep it over.

Scott's nephew Matt is quite an accomplished young man.

He was an Eagle Scout, who showed leadership by coordinating an effort to rebuild

a star across a nearby church. Here's his entry in the 2013 Eagle Scout Yearbook.

Matt's dad, Danny, told me his son thanked him for introducing him to great music. They attend wonderful concerts together. I gave them my Zydeco record.

Matt is an artist, studying fashion at The Art Institute downtown.

Here's a shirt he designed earlier this year. It's got matching shorts. He learned to use a sewing machine - a Singer - when he was about nine from his bubby. The machine is now his.

Natalie looked stunning in a red sequined top.

Did I tell you she bought hoagies from Angelo's in Southampton? And the Fleishers gave Scott a gift certificate from there. It's our fave restaurant.

"What? Nino retired?" They talked about that for a while.

Cole left the party to go ice skating, but then came back. He's standing by a table I pulled from the curb last year. I keep it in the middle room.

My newly revamped bedroom. My friend Brett Lear, who toured my house, persuaded me to keep the drapes my mom made me after I moved it.

"They're very zen," he said. "Chinese." 

LAVENDER BEDROOM

I sat on the living room floor

studying the swatch books

Perhaps we could

carpet my bedroom with both

the pink that was the color of

a cat’s tongue and the lavender

like ballooning pants worn

in the harem of Topkapi.

Crazed with the colors

I came to my senses

and shouted Lavender

over the phone.

Like the wedding night

or a new shade of nail polish

there must be no mistakes

no regrets.

Giddy with happiness

I lie in bed and welcomed

Charlie Rose into my

room. In dark December

I wear navy polka-dot

pajamas that caress my

legs like a husband would

if I still had one. I don’t fantasize

a Jim Rockford or

Damien Lewis beside me

aging, it seems, has driven

such marvelous thoughts away.

I lie in the cradle of reality, pretending

God loves me, though, truly, I feel the knock

of emptiness in my breast.

Look at the walls!

Bare now. Let’s keep them that way. The

better to be alone, undistracted, acquainted

with every heart beat, every bit of sadness

that comes from living without children or

cats.

The noises of the house

they comfort me. The song of

the refrigerator

keeping cold the food

- such devotion! - and the soughing

of the furnace that delivers

through tunnels in the walls

heat that keeps my blood from

freezing like Popsicles

or becoming homeless

and sleeping with the deer

in the backyard, rolling myself

in frost-encrusted autumn leaves

and remembering when I used

to play piano, Bach most of all.