Ask me why I don't post pictures?
Gotta go thru a big rigmarole to post em!
Look, novels don't have pictures, right?
Am reading: Munich by Robert Harris, Escape Clause by John Sandford (a Virgil Flowers novel), Me Before You by Jojo Myers, Books by the Dead - A Memoir with Poetry - by Alan Catlin ( we email back and forth)
Holy cow! This man has written loads of books!
ODE TO MY DRYER
You have been here since the day I moved in
O Whirlpool with a whistling "Wh"
The lovely items I've dried in you
Made in USA Cotton shorts I bought in Cape May
A wet book or two, but only for a second
Your looks are magnificent
Sorry I can't show you off
dans le living
A perpetual shine
like the midnight moon.
FACEBOOK SAYS DATA HARVESTED TOPS 87 MILLION
I certainly don't want Zuckerburg's cheatin face on my blog!
YES, FACEBOOK, PLEASE
Peddle my diseases to your cohorts
Fibromyalgia
Sjogrens syndrome
Congenital Heart Disease
The entire Hepatitus Family
and let's not forget
I was a Siamese Twin
separated at birth
Use your data to send me ads
about lingerie, rock music
from the sixties, dried
flowers made of silk and
posters for my living room
Unlike my friend Judy,
I am not a Facebook addict,
just a parttime user, who
likes her Salem cigarettes.
***
Happy Seventy-Sixth Anniversary, Mom and Dad
April 4, 1944
Stationed at Guantanamo, in World War II,
Staff Sergeant Harold Greenwold read 17 books a week
while smoking Lucky Strikes, stubbing
them out into a glass ashtray.
On furlough, he wore his Marine uniform
to Marlindale Road in Cleveland Heights,
where Mom awaited in a purple dress
that showed her shapely legs through
seamed stockings.
Rabbi Rosenthal married them. Dad
put on a shiny silk yarmulcha, and
said to me one day, he wanted to be
a rabbi, and was in fact to his
employees at Majestic Specialties.
He hired blacks, Jews, Italians and
former inmates. Many worked in
undershirts it was hot as a furnace
in there.
Page Sumpter Jr, Alan Schonberg,
Morty Shesol, Beryl Pinckney. Mark,
his nephew, who thought everyone
was watching him.
Dad would go round every morning
to greet his people, including his
fast-typin secretary Lois Stendor
who he told tactfully to wear
deodorant.
He worked on the seventh floor
Holocaust survivors were there
with numbers tattooed on their
arms.
The place was huge like a church.
Little by little, many of them died off.
His lovely shapely bride remembers
him with fondness, saying, "He gave
me such great people to remember
him by."
And the list goes on and on.
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