The Little Review (littlereview) wrote,
The Little Review
littlereview

Poem for Yom Kippur


We Remember Them
By Sylvan Kamens and Jack Riemer


In the rising of the sun
and in its going down
we remember them.

In the blowing of the wind
and in the chill of winter
we remember them.

In the opening of the buds
and in the rebirth of spring
we remember them.

In the blueness of the skies
and in the warmth of summer
we remember them.

In the rustling of the leaves
and in the beauty of fall
we remember them.

In the beginning of the year
and when it ends
we remember them.

When we are weary
and in need of strength
we remember them.

When we are lost
and sick at heart
we remember them.

When we have achievements
that are based on theirs
we remember them.

When we have joys
we yearn to share
we remember them.

So long as we live
they too shall live
for they are a part of us
as we remember them.

--------

I don't know what it is about Yom Kippur. My parents celebrated by having a screaming argument over dessert before Kol Nidre -- my father was furious that my mother hadn't gotten him eclairs to go with the cookies she got my kids and the ice cream she got my husband, my mother was furious my father didn't get his own eclairs and by the way doesn't he remember that he's diabetic and has high blood pressure and isn't supposed to be eating eclairs anyway. I had told my husband that since we know we're going to see my parents all day on Yom Kippur I sort of wanted the night off, then felt guilty and impious, so it is with a sense of justification as well as annoyance that I witnessed all this...I do not feel in a proper frame of mind for the Day of Atonement. In fact I wonder whether I am capable of having a meaningful spiritual experience in my parents' presence, particularly in their synagogue which I have never felt is mine even though my kids have been members for most of their lives. Eh well, we are breaking the fast (though not really since none of us ever fasts past lunchtime) at the home of a very old friend, so that should be nice. And there are yahrtzeit candles lit for my grandparents. The poem is for them too.

I should say something nice...let's see. I read Tarot cards to calm myself while burning a pumpkin candle, took a walk in the gorgeous cool night air and plotted a slapstick comedy in my head starring Russell Crowe and Viggo Mortensen, was going to watch Veronica Mars but our big wonderful television set made an unfortunate noise and now has a picture only every one second out of three -- anyone have a TV they no longer need/want? Wait, nice things. Watched most of the second half of the Helen of Troy special on PBS, which was interesting, wrote up a Brannon Braga interview in which he was asked whether Caffrey and Cavennaugh should date on Threshold, watched Rome which made me all melty from the hot older woman/young girl kissing (this show goes everywhere! it hits all my perv buttons!) then left Bill Maher on and listened to Andrew Sullivan, Ben Affleck and Salman Rushdie debate whether there is any meaning in religion and whether religious people suck which was just the perfect activity for the week after Rosh Hashanah/St. Francis' Day/Ramadan now that everyone has gone back to hating everyone else. Rushdie said his wife is filming in Morocco on the leftover sets from Kingdom of Heaven and we should just send Jerusalem on tour so people don't have to fight over it. Mwahaha.

Speaking of Kingdom of Heaven, we got the DVD but have been unable to watch it due to having to use the small ancient TV with no jacks for cable, DVD player, VCR, etc. Last night I had a dorky dream about Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire in which they went totally off the book and Lupin was in the movie. I have more Baltimore photos but tonight I have to post something else. After my son got his Furby, he desperately wanted one of the old Furby Trainer's Guides and a Furby storybook even though they don't cover tricks you can do with the new Furbys, and an Amazon.com reseller had both for 31 cents plus a couple bucks shipping. Today the books arrived and when I walked over to see if he had put away his homework before going outside to play after school, I saw this:


Furby reading Furby, Here To Stay. Beside him on the sofa was...


...a photo from the Furby Trainer's Guide.
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My son has named this Furby Ehi (I have no idea whether it's a made up name or a Furby name from somewhere) and he and his friends all play red light, green light with it. This astonishes and amuses me greatly. We should have taken Furby on the Constellation, now that I know Furby is a fan of tall ships! I wonder whether we should take Furby to services tomorrow. It will distract my son but at least he won't be bored. How much damage will it do to my soul if I am thinking about my son's transitional object, our broken television and my parents having stupid arguments when I'm trying to atone?
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