A Few Thoughts Regarding History

I have recently been confronted by my roots. Startling.

At the chapel:
Men in dark suits and kipas
small women with dark hair
Aunt Essie with Joan Crawford eyebrows
and ill-applied lipstick

Zadi cries
hugs me
the Rabbi tries
pinning on the black ribbon
"Rabbi, this is my granddaughter. Say a nice boreke for her"

I sit with Bubi- hair done make-up on-
looking
pointing
she says things like
"I used to babysit her" "We used to date" "Oh, he got big"

During the eulogy:
I laugh
I laugh at the parts that are true
I laugh at the parts that are false

At the cemetary:
I hold Zadi's hand
I hold him up
We watch the coffin
the coffin that holds his brother
We watch it being lowered
into the earth
together.

The Sun is tossed down
Nancy claps her hands
"Newspaper. Wonderful! Wonderful!"
The family says a prayer
together.
In hebrew.

Zadi speaking hebrew is new and old
his voice reminds me where we come from
what has been gone through
it is the thing that binds us.

The shiva house:
fogged mirrors
leggless sofa, low chairs
smoked salmon, tuna
bagels
emotional eating

Treasure albums
Zadi and Bubi in lust
Pre-stroke beauty
The truck that traveled to Lindy's
on a dine 'n' ditch mission
legends, stories, folklore.

Hard boiled eggs in salt water
"Everytime we are oppressed it makes us stronger.
Eggs are the only food that when you cook it, it gets stronger."
Salt water for our tears.