chocolate is a verb

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Monthly Archives: December 2016

Gratitude.

thanks

Somehow, another year has gone by. Although 2016 was full of creativity, love, and meaningful experiences, much of what lingers is a sense of loss and uncertainty.

I hope 2017 will be better than we expect. Certainly, like every year, it will contain surprises, triumphs, and disappointments, profound sadness and immeasurable joy.

For the moments we are here, it is extremely gratifying to have you as companions on this journey. I am deeply grateful for your views, likes, subscriptions, comments, and shares, for your friendships close and far, and for your steadfast and honorable witnessing. Thank you.

J.I. Kleinberg
post #1956, 31 December 2016

found poem: He

found poem: silence

breakfast on Boxing Day

Hope

“Be thou my wife”

LRK-DAK honeymoonIt is December 20. Seventy years ago today my grandfather, a rabbi, officiated at the wedding of my parents. In the scrapbook, two small documents mark the event, one a California Certificate of Marriage and the other a Jewish Covenant of Marriage.

There is no photo of the occasion. No gown. No towering wedding cake. No picture of the smiling bride and groom. For my mother, it was her second marriage and she would have considered it “unseemly” to make a show of it. My father was still finding his way home from a long war, and anyway would have shunned the fanfare of an elaborate wedding.

I’m not sure where the ceremony took place — in my grandparents’ home, perhaps — or who attended, though it was likely a very small, close gathering of family. The witnesses were the sisters-in-law, Helen and Charlotte, the wives of my mother’s brother and my father’s brother.

There was probably food, a toast, many mazeltovs, and then Les and Dorothy (she would have been Dottie, or Red, at the time) drove off to honeymoon in Death Valley, where this photo was taken.

I wonder what Dorothy was thinking that day. I know she was thrilled to be marrying Les, but did she miss the lace and tulle? Was she intimidated by the religious trappings of the ceremony? Did she feel welcomed by my father’s family or was she already constructing reasons to divide herself from them? How did she picture her future?

She spoke to me of many things, but she never talked about that day.

found poem: The unbearable

found poem: he is

found poem: in his

found poem: a pale wind

the day after

2016-12-09 snow feetBellingham, Washington, isn’t known for snow. Memorable storms are rare enough that residents recall them by year. More typically we get a couple of doses each year accompanied by an icy blast of Arctic chill.

After a region-stalling storm prediction in October (the storm never materialized), the weather-callers have been reluctant to over-promise this week except to say that driving could be hazardous. While higher elevations received a snow-angel-worthy dumping, low-lying Bellingham got a scant half-inch overnight. The temperature is creeping up over freezing, rain is predicted, and life will soon return to winter-normal: wet.

But this morning, a wonderful quiet surrounds the house, and the locals — juncos, sparrows, chickadees — are busy with their flitting and foraging, exploring the sheltered margins of the yard and the places where fronds of spruce, juniper, or pine offer a moment’s respite from wind and cats.

found poem: Objects

found poem: is he wearing

found poem: when the call came

found poem: This

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