Of all the poems I have ever written and other stuff

Of all the poems I have ever written (there have been more than 40), I like this one best:

..................................To Eleanor

The moon, falling softly on the sea;
The wind, moving gently through the grain;
And you, turning quietly to me –
......You three bring joy, silent joy that stills my pain.

The sea, which receives the moon’s caress;
The grain, which receives the wind’s soft touch;
And I, who receive your quietness –
......We three are blessed. No one else can know how much.


...although I like this one too:

..................................The Writer

....................With words alone, he paints
....................from the palette of his mind,
.........................mixing,
.........................blending,
.........................combining
.........................hues and tints
....................until he sees the exact shade
....................he wants.

....................With words alone, she chips away
....................rough edges of meaning,
.........................chiseling,
.........................hewing,
.........................gouging
..............................the solid rock
....................until the long-sought shape
....................emerges.

....................With words alone, she pins and drapes
....................original ideas
....................over the naked manikin page,
.........................tucking in a bit of material
.....................................................................................here,
....................snipping off
....................a dangling thread
there,
....................dropping thoughts
....................as easily as hemlines.

....................With words alone, he composes
....................irresistible music,
.........................charming,
.........................seducing the ear,
.........................searching for a particular chord,
....................the one right sound his words must make
....................for echoes
.........................to linger.


Can you guess what this is a picture of?

It's a trivet, a piece of Arabianware that I bought in February 1969 in Stockholm, Sweden, at "En Ko" (what Swedish people say when they see the letters NK), which is short for Nordiska Kompaniet, the big department store in Hamngatan. Here's a picture of the enire trivet:

Arabianware is not made in Arabia, nor is it made in Sweden. Arabianware is made in Finland. I also bought a salt box and a scoop in the same pattern as the trivet. Here they all are against our kitchen backsplash:

Changing subjects, here's the chocolate ganache cake that was presented to me at my birthday dinner on Monday evening:

It was delicious, but it was also so rich that one can eat only a sliver at a time. Here is what is still left of it today:

Speaking of today, March 21st is my grandfather's birthday. Nathan Silberman, my mother's father, was born in Philadelphia on this day in 1875 and died at the age of 95 years, nine months, in December 1970. He met my wife and all three of my children. If he were still living, he would have turned 144 today.

Happy birthday, Grandpa!

-30-