slam etc.

My first trip to anywhere
Was to Boardwalk & 7th.
A whole ‘nother world.
Where nine year old eyes
And imagination
Could stretch even beyond
The Atlantic horizon.

Arrival in the back parking lot
Of the old wooden Admiral,
A resort apartment.
A building probably no longer standing,
A building with no elevator
Where you could watch guys with muscles
Attach your luggage to a thick-roped pulley
And slowly raise it up to the the floor where you would be staying.

There were about 4 inches between the Admiral
And what ever stood next to it.
A little girl could look between.
The ocean!
The ocean!
I’ve seen the ocean!

Or so I thought.
A long 4 inch wide sliver of shadowed sand,
A little chunk of boardwalk,
More sand, much brighter,
Then some grayish blue water,
A long sliver of blue sky.
And a breezy whiff of fish smell.
A taste to heighten anticipation.

Upstairs the balcony faced the beach.
Oh my!!!!!!!
Downstairs I only thought I had seen the ocean.
Expanded beyond belief,
It left me in awe!
How could any water be so big?
How could any sky be so big?
Or any stretch of land?
No trees to block the view of anything!
Now I’ve seen the ocean!

But there was more to learn about the ocean:
Jumping waves
And getting knocked down by them.
Clam shells and smooth rocks,
But no fancy shells like the kind they sold in stores.
Beach towels and beach umbrellas.
Sand castles,
Sand crabs,
And sand in your bathing suit.
Sunburn!

Sitting on the balcony in the late afternoon
Watching kites fly,
And imagining you could see all the way across the ocean
To Europe or Africa.
Was that the Pope out for a walk?
Lying in bed and feeling like the waves were still moving you.
Drifting to sleep to their rhythmic roar.

And of course resort stuff:
Glass blowers,
Fudge makers,
Salt water taffy,
French fries and snowballs,
Kiddie rides
The “laughing lady” in front of the Fun House
(She stands silently in a museum now.)
The Boardwalk 5 & 10,
Confusing babble from the auction house,
Artists doing caricatures,
A concert at the band shell,
The fishing pier,
And the dock where I saw a 500 lb. tuna!
Now I understood why Boardwalk
Was the most expensive property
In Monopoly!
I had seen the ocean!

Oh God, my wounded soul cries out to you.
My heart pleads in pain.
Will distress be my companion forever?
Uneasiness my troubler by night?

I am insulted and rejected.
I am violated and scorned.
My kindness is rebuked and dashed to the ground
And my love begets only violence.

My hurt is like flesh ripped open,
A part of me crudely wrenched out.
No surgeon has sewn up the tear.
My pain throbs exposed.

Comfort me, oh God.
Calm the turbulence within me.
For when I am distraught
Your praises are difficult to sing
And my hand trembles in your service.

God, remove this stressful burden!

As I walk confidently in the palm of your hand
The healing froth of your love tide
Washes over my injured spirit
And urges me toward wholeness.

(1985)

# posted by Kathi Edwards @ 6:54 PM 0 comments

Hello, hello baby, want a kiss?
Hello, hello baby, want a kiss?

“Teaching Your Parakeet to Talk”
A 45 rpm record.
Just send one dollar
And 3 labels from Hartz Mountain Parakeet Treat.
And play it over...
and over...
and over...
and over...

Hello, hello baby, want a kiss?
Hello, hello baby, want a kiss?

We stuck the record player
Right by Pretty Boy’s cage.
He never did get it though.
Never squawked anything resembling:

Hello, hello baby, want a kiss?
Hello, hello baby, want a kiss?

Just pecked at his seed bell
And his Hartz Mountain Parakeet Treat
and hopped to the perch
While the record played over...
and over...
and over...
and over...

Hello, hello baby, want a kiss?
Hello, hello baby, want a kiss?

On the flip side was a real bird.
A recording of a real live bird!
A bird obviously having more intelligence than our Pretty Boy.
This bird could say it over...
and over...
and over...
and over...

Hello, hello baby, want a kiss?
Hello, hello baby, want a kiss?

When we played the flip side
Pretty Boy would go crazy!
Jump,
And fly,
And squawk,
Crash into the bars.
Trying to get to that intelligent bird on the record
Who could recite over...
and over...
and over...
and over...

Hello, hello baby, want a kiss?
Hello, hello baby, want a kiss?


Who knows where the record is anymore...?
And Pretty Boy is long gone.
...But to this day,
My parents,
My brothers,
My sisters,
Even my cousins
(Who often visited)
---The whole family---
Can laugh,
And recall,
And recite over...
and over....
and over...
and over...

Hello, hello baby, want a kiss?
Hello, hello baby, want a kiss?

1
First day of school
Mrs. Mikoski
Tryin’ to get t’ know us,
Fill the time.
(No reading groups yet.)
Oh, no!
Here it comes.
“And, Kathy, tell us what you did over the summer.”
Got nothin’ to say.
Don’t think anyone wants to hear
How I played outside all day.

2
Not when others had visited relatives
In exotic, far away places:
Like New York,
Iowa,
Cincinnati.
Oh, I visited my relatives.
Had two sets of grand parents,
Nine uncles and aunts,
There were eleven of us cousins.
Twelve if you count my Uncle Gene
Born to my grandmother
After her other kids were all grown and giving birth to us.
All those relatives!
And we all lived within five miles of each other
In Baltimore County.
I mean it was a big deal
When my aunt
Moved from Towson...
All the way to...
Catonsville
OK, so the beltway hadn’t been built yet.
Still didn’t leave me with anything to say on the first day of school.

3
Don’t think anyone wants to hear
How I played outside all day.
Half the class had been to Ocean City,
Or summer camp.
Others gone to Hershey Park,
Brought back pet alligators from Florida,
Seen the Liberty Bell,
Me?
Well
I had gone to visit my aunt in Catonsville.
Could I say that?



4
Not that the summers weren’t fun.
They were times of playin’ kickball
And 3 Flies In
With my brothers,
Reading Golden Book stories to my little sisters.
Little Engine That Could
Pokey Little Puppy
Stayin’ in the lines in coloring books,
Delving into “My Summer Weekly Reader”
And books from Towson Library.
Hopscotch,
Paper dolls,
And jump rope ad infinitum
With boy crazy Donna.
Secret clubs.

5
Explored the woods
A ravine,
A tick infested field,
Picked forget-me-nots
And blackberries,
Sucked the nectar from scads o’ honeysuckle
Emerged victorious,
Though badly stained,
From ink berry battles.
(A lot less painful than the acorn battles of autumn.)

6
Done some cross stitch embroidery with Nana Wilke,
Took beginners swimming lessons.
(Got a Red Cross card to prove I passed.)
Sunday doughnuts at Nana Scarpulla’s
After church
All us cousins crowded in Uncle Gene’s room.
Barbecues at our house
Or at Aunt Lucy’s

7
I had dug holes
Made mud balls,
Sucked on blades of grass
Learned to balance
On a 2-wheeler
With a broken chain
By repeatedly walking it up the hill to Cromwell Bridge Road
Then coasting back down.
I’d tried to light a fire with a magnifying glass.
Smoke, but no blaze.
(Guess I just wasn’t patient enough.)
Hurt my knees jumpin’ off the swings,
Helped organize the neighborhood kids for a talent show.
Endless rehearsals.
Charged the parents a quarter for tickets.
Thursday night in the Saunders’ basement.
Performed in cousin dramas for the parents and grandparents
At no charge

8
I had set the table,
Made my bed,
Sprinkled the laundry,
Ironed the handkerchiefs,
Folded the towels,
Husked the corn,
Made red JELL-O,
Dipped chicken pieces in egg
Then shook’m in a big ol’ bag of flour
So Mom could fry’m up crispy.
Seen blue crabs kickin’’
Dropped in the big black pot.
Steamed alive and seasoned with Old Bay.
Dumped out red, hot, and dee-licious
On tables spread with last night’s Baltimore Sun.

9
Went grocery shopping with Mom
Tasted a grape or two on the sly.
Got my bangs cut
Trekked downtown to the eye doctor
A visit to the dentist
Who cleaned our teeth
Then handed us prescriptions for ice-cream cones.
Back to school shopping of couse
New shoes
Dresses
And lunch on the top floor of Hutzler’s department store.
Club sandwich
And fancy desert
Of Jell-O cut into cubes
And served in tall parfait glasses
With whipped cream and a cherry.
Went out with my father
to pick out a turquoise birthstone ring.
(December)
Got that at Hutzler’s too.

10
Played continue on paper a lot
You know,
That game where each person writes a sentence
And you pass it on.
And the brothers in the family
Ruin every story
‘Cause they think it’s funny
To make every sentence be about pee and poop.

11
Card games:
Go Fish,
Old Maid,
War,
And Crazy Eights.
Board games:
Sorry,
Candyland,
Clue,
Checkers,
Scrabble,

12
Evenings
The whole neighborhood gang
Playin Hide and Seek,
Red Light, Green Light,
Swingin’ Statues,
Giant Steps,
And a game our baby sitter had made up
Called “Block.”
(l’ ll explain it after the poem, if anyone’s really interested.)

13
“ And Kathy, your turn, tell us what you did over the summer.”
“Um...
“Well...
“I went to visit my aunt in Catonsville.”
Silence
Except for Mrs. Mikoski
Pretendin’ I ‘d just said somethin’ terrific.
Lookin’ back now
I’d had a real good vacation.
How’s a fourth grader ‘sposed to know what’s worth tellin’ ?
But, hey, I just told you.

≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

How to play “Block”
Requirements: 2 or more players
a patio with rows and columns of 4 foot square cement blocks. with the exception that some of the blocks
are gardens
Object: Gently knock other players off balance and be the last one standing
Flow of the game: Players move around from place to place. When encountering another player they hold right hands and attempt to push or pull the other player off balance.

Rules: You are out if:
you have more then one foot in one block.
you step in a block already occupied by someone else.
you step on the wood between blocks.
you step in a garden block or off the edge of the patio.

(read at Mildred Wilke’s funeral at the age of 99)

I remember Nana on Satyr Hill Road...
---where she stood working in her steamy kitchen with the pressure cooker, and the whistling tea kettle,
---where sun streamed in through the dining room window making rainbows in the cut glass vase that stood in the middle of the dining room table amid piles of freshly cut homemade noodles set out to dry. (I used to sneak in and eat a few; they tasted far better raw than they ever did in the soup.)
---where dessert was tapioca.
---where Christmas meant Glass Wax stencils in the big picture window and little marshmallow and gumdrop snowmen standing in cotton snow; and Easter was brightly colored tulips made form died eggshells and pipe cleaners. (How did she get the egg out without breaking the shell anyway?)
---where she taught me to recognize the call of the bobwhite and how to do big cross stitches on cloth stretched in an embroidery hoop.
---where the dog got hit with the newspaper if he left the property.
---where she cut her toe in the lawn mower,
---where she sewed, hooked rugs, and cut up old coats to magically transform them into braided rugs.
---where she dressed in hat and gloves every Sunday for mass, no matter how hot it was in those days before air conditioning.
---where the wooden crucifix that now hangs in my upstairs hallway, hung over her bed,
---where there were horseshoe games and crab feasts in the back yard and I could visit my grandmother everyday, not just on Sundays and holidays, because she lived right nextdoor.
---where I learned from her one of the most important lessons in life when I heard her lament the fact that she had been wanting to bake someone some homemade bread, but hadn’t gotten around to it and now he was dead. (May we all remember to do for our loved ones while they are still with us.)

I also remember Nana at Loch Raven Village
---where she started a new life, independently able to walk or ride the bus to stores, countless bowling leagues, to Sunday mass, of course, and even all the way to Catonsville.
---where trivet and spoon collections adorned the walls and African violets flourished.
---where the crucifix still hung over her bed
---where she hung a huge poster sized business calendar with big squares in which she could write everybody’s birthdays and anniversaries so as not to forget them.
---where the kitchen was always uncomfortably warm, but just the right temperature for raising homemade bread.
---where grace before meals ended with “God bless the cook,” or sometimes, “Name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, whose arms are longest gets the most.”
---where dessert was still tapioca.
---where the Christmas tree was silver and decorated with homemade sequined ornaments which are now owned by some of us, and a Santa ringed in colored blinking lights hung on the wall.
---where wisdom was dispensed about such things as throwing spilt salt over your shoulder and who’s at the door when your fork falls on the floor.
---where she became a great grandmother and matriarch of four generations for many years.
---where she baby sat for Fran, and later Matthew, Justin, and Shelly.
---from where she wrote me many letters when I was in the Peace Corps in Korea, and later many letters to Seattle when Mike and Beth Moved out there.
---from where she came to Silver Spring to my apartment to visit me and take a trip to the Smithsonian because she had always wanted to see the Hope Diamond. (It was during that visit that I was amazed to see her down on her knees in prayer before she went to bed. I didn’t think people did that anymore.)
---where she embroidered us tablecloths. (Mine is the one we use for Christmas brunch.)
---where she used a CB radio to listen in on the police and determine when it was safe to go out.
---where she grew old, and her bones and hearing gave out, but not her sense of humor.

Finally, I remember Nana at Stella Marris
---where African violets still flourished in her window.
---where she graciously welcomed all visitors, especially those bearing gifts of crab soup.
---where she proudly showed off the view form her window and the view of Loch Raven Reservoir from the lounge window, but where she never had anything good to say about the food.
---where she shared the news of visits or calls from her children and grandchildren, and where she ended visits with the request, “Next time come when you can stay a little longer.”
---where she participated in the garden therapy conducted by Mom’s garden club.
---where during one visit when we asked her if she knew that we were involved in the Gulf War, said that she had heard that, and then commented, “ I never understood why they have wars anyway!” (Why do we?) Her comment caused us to reflect on just how many wars she had seen in her near century of life.
---where, in the most recent years she became less animated, and had fewer interests, but never stopped going to Sunday mass.

When she could no longer go to mass, she went to be with the Lord.

She loved God. She loved us. And we loved her.

1
I pretended it wasn’t embarrassing:
First day of school.
Those teachers
With all their
Neat,
Clean,
Spankin’ new seating charts
And me there to mess ‘em up.
Me,
Kathy W.,
Nearsighted,
Myopic,
Supposed to sit in the back of the room.
With the other T-U-V-W-X-Y-Zs.
(squint)
Couldn’t see the board from there.
Had to sit up front
Like Larry A.
And Donna B.
Those teachers
Would have to cross out names;
Write new ones.
Me and Larry hafta change places.
Why couldn't I have a front of the dictionary name?
When I grew up
I was going to marry an aardvark.
Kathi Aardvark.
Wouldn’t that be cool?
And less complicated.
First day of school
Woulda been a lot less bother
For all those teachers
...Without Kathi W.

2
And what if Mr. Aardvark did come along?
Prob’ly wouldn’t marry me anyway.
Not Kathi W.
Blind bat,
Cooties, you know.
Last picked for every team.
I never cried;
Never showed the hurt inside
When I made it to the top of the list,
Of “5 Most Ugliest Girls in Seventh Grade.”
Or when George C. invented the Kathi W. doll.
You know the one:
Wind it up and it walks into a wall.
Committees?
The worst.
Everybody wanted
To be partners,
Work in groups,
Collaborate,
...But not with Kathy W.
I should’ve just melted away.
Let them work together
And be friends
...Without Kathy W.

3
I wanted to not be in school.
My own neighborhood;
Now there was a better place.
Where a bunch of us kids
Had grown up together.
Always just had fun together.
Where some of these same kids from school
Also lived.
These kids
Who couldn’t afford
To let it be known at school
That they even knew Kathi W.;
But who, when they returned to the neighborhood,
Could return to themselves
And be OK with Kathy W.
And play Red Light, Green Light
And Hide and Go Seek
And be friends...
...Friends with Kathy W.
...Friends with ME!