Visit to the new home of Ellen Rosenberg

 Armed with good directions and my iPhone, I made no mistakes - who me? - and found Ellen's medieval castle of an apartment complex just where she said it was - on Upsal Avenue. I parked on the street and phoned her with my iPhone. Dan will be so proud of me. Well, I'M PROUD OF ME.

Ellen points to her faerie garden inside this bird cage.

Every single thing she has is lovely to look at. 

Upsal Garden Apartments are quite lovely. I restrained myself and took only a few photos, mostly interiors.

She's a collector. View these Delft pottery vessels.

Comfy couch, where after our tea and snacks, Little Ruthie took a 7-minute nap.

 Photo of Ellen and her late husband Gene Caserta when they were in Florence, Italy. A Morse code machine is next to that and on the lower shelf is a bronze copy of a $1 million dollar check when Ellen's late father sold his tool and die business. See also below.

 Ellen and her son Adam.

Here's the check. Hmmm, wonder how we could rip off a bank by using it as a lithograph and running off with a million dollars.

Well, that's why I'm not a crook. No good at it. Though I used to work for a very nice man who is serving a very long sentence for being a crook. 

He also has a FB page if you're the kind of gal who believes prisoners are innocent and wants to marry them. I wrote a short story about him called "The Reunion" which has been rejected a dozen times.

I told my new neighbor friend Jolie I'm gonna spend the night revising some of my short stories and mailing them to lit mags.

 Sketch of Ellen's daughter Vanessa who owns home-made ice cream stores in NC.

 "Time!" by the Chambers Brothers. Dyou know how long it took me to find out who sang this?

I knew it was an R & B group, but for chrissakes who?

Went on YouTube, typed in 'time,' nuffin happened, then I remembered 'TIME HAS COME TODAY.'

Rock along with me, will you hipsters! See my barefoot toes tapping as I sip on my tea.

Gene Caserta was VP of the Federal Transportation Union, is that right, Ellen? A famous artist dedicated this print to Gene

See Wiki about Ralph Fasanella. 

Look how Obama is selling out the working-class people with his new six-year trade agreement, totally conducted in secret.  

"Come see the art work in my hall way!" said Ellen. 

 What's this gorgeous piece of lace?

 Baby curly-headed Ellen and Mom. Ellen's sister is Liz Rosenberg whose YA bio of the author of Anne of Green Gables just came out.

  Hi Liz. Pleased to meet you, ma'am. I'm a friend of your sister Ellen's.

I curtsey. The two of em are very close, confidantes.

What a beautiful appliqued bedspread.

She has an ironing board in her BR.

 Here's Ellen's BF Andy. While I was there, he called.

Hi Honey, she said when she answered. Then she became jubilant!

Andy is studying to be a social worker at Kutztown University and got an A on his final. He thought he'd done terribly!

They took a trip to Mexico and saw the ruins above.

 Who's that older woman with your son Adam on his h.s. graduation day? Ellen looks fantastic.

"You're not fat at all," I said by way of greeting. She walks all the time since she totaled her car. She is thinking about buying a new one.

In February, she's off to Viet Nam to help child victims of Agent Orange.

Lots of shows on PBS about Viet Nam b/c it's the 40th anniv of The Fall of Saigon.

Collection of her tin soldiers and Gene's train with toys. 

When I finish bloggin, am gonna take a long look at all these photos, still sipping my tea and tapping my tooties to Time, Now the Time Has Come... great song

 Romare Bearden print! Imagine that!

 Japanese print of a certain style. Picasso was very influenced by these.

This is an indoor A/C and fan. Andy had a helluva time setting it up. See the exhaust going out the window?

Although it was hot outside, the inside was very comfortable.

 Ellen's fave piece of jade. There were several about the house AND load of artificial flowers that were incredibly beautiful.

 This Matisse-like original with all of its patterns was a wedding gift to Ellen.

Over the phone, before I left, Ellen asked me if I wanted to some delicious fried chicken she buys at the Acme.

No, I said, but can you get me some turkey and cheese at the Deli Counter?

Ach! Was that good! White cheddar cheese. 

And the tea we drank. This was a special black tea blend - that tasted like lavender was added - a Downton Abbey tea.

Neither of us enjoyed watching Wolf Hall. 

That leg-apart stride. Why would anyone stand like that? Boils on his crotch?

Ellen accompanied me outside as she had to go buy something. Can't rightly remember.

For dinner I had this vacuum-sealed refrigerated container of delicious Manhattan Clam Chowder.

Everything has that line-up of sticks.... universal product code.

Wrote a poem - no one will publish it - which talks about this.

 But, first, the Chambers' Brothers are singing People Get Ready. Let's find out who composed it.

The gospel-influenced track was a Curtis Mayfield composition, and displayed the growing sense of social and political awareness in his writing. Rolling Stone magazine named "People Get Ready" the 24th greatest song of all time

Scott and I were discussing this. How must the engineer feel about killing 7 of his passengers?

I said to Scott, maybe he has a good excuse, like he was having an epileptic seizure at the time.


FOR THE POET TAKEN AWAY

in memory of Jane Kenyon (1947-1995)

I was looking for
a book of poetry
asparagas-thin,
skinny books being
easier on one's chest for
bedtime reading.

Finding one,
I brought it to the sales girl
who sighed and said,
"Oh, dear,
it doesn't have a bar code."

Ah, blessed day
for poets and for me.
I looked at the back cover,
clean, unmarred
by that fat
disorderly line-up of sticks.

"No wonder," I said to the sales girl.
"The author has just died
and probably took them with her."

On my way to the car
I invited the poet
to slip inside me.
"Use my body any time you wish,"
I said and waited, my feet
pattering on the pavement,
for some sort of inner settling
that never came.

I showed her
the cluster of winter weeds,
their tassels dark with age.
Somehow, in the construction
of this aromatic new bookstore,
they managed to escape
the carnage that befell the
more obvious trees and woodlands.

Did she miss them?
these earthly sights -
thick-maned dogs, ponds, frosty maples -
images from her poems.

I will miss them,
when the time comes,
something as simple as
the back of my hand
creasing with wrinkles;
fingernails, all without
a trace of moons,
a family trait.