And so I row my leaky boat ...there on the vast and rocky seas of memory...I row and row...
hoping to set anchor
this densely packed holiday weekend began with opening a box of clay pieces made by me
and my students long ago at the Jewish Day School I worked at...
oh the labors....the sweat....the tears...
the kiln opened when it was cool enough to reveal treasures that would
grace numerous Seder tables including my own
for decades....
the salt water dishes, the haroset dishes, the Seder plate, and Elijahs cup.
and always the Chaise Lounge Charoset Dish that occupies a place of honor.
I set out the dishes and the memories...
I carefully take the photo of my Jewish ancestors off the wall and prop it on boxes of matzah
on a chair adjacent to the place setting for Elijahs Cup
for all these moments are mysteries.
years pass, but the ancestors remain..
I remember what I do not remember and know that my great great grandfather was
a seltzer water in nothern Romania.
I could not find a trace of him when I visited the graveyard in 1998
but allowed the mystical light flowing in the window in the middle of the night
to direct my gaze of wonder..
He appeared in dreams and in my imagination as I began the long road backwards and forwards
to this moment of holding a small Seder with friends..
******
when I take the train of memory back to Texas it is hot and almost summer.
I am arriving with my family after 3 days on the train. The salami sandwiches are now tasteless
and we are weary.
My grandfather C.H. White is there to pick us up and
we head to the small house in Waco where we will spend the week.
He was once a farmer who got the call to preach and so he rallied forth from his pulpit
and later circled round and round about Jacob.
On Easter Sunday we drive out to hear him preach with fury and brimstone in the
small church
so simple with just a wooden cross.
so simple it is hard to recall the Greek Orthodox majestry and mystery that holds me
up north.
where we are not Greek, but we fit in...almost
after church the family gathers
and I feel my sense of tribe
the South held and fascinated me...it was a part of me
just as part of me never gets used to these long northern winters
as I yearn for the sun and warmth
we had Fried chicken, beans, mashed potatoes and iced tea
if you look at the family picture of us all standing outside the old house
you'd see me in my homemade dress and specially curled hair.
*******
yesterday I went to Easter with my neighbors and remembered
my long ago Baptist past
the service could not have been more different
but the ardent faith remained.
the fried chicken for lunch took me all the way back to Texas
*****
sometimes it is easy to dwell in the house of memory.
when I lived on that small island I wove belt for a living.
the warp and the weft holding each other
to make a long weaving of color and strength
the weft and warp of memory hold me now.
**
i row and row
finally landing on the small island of memory
there I weave in my old stone cottage
creating
my warp and weft of moments
from the past and future
of ancestors known and unknown
on my simple square loom
remembered and mused upon
**
