Monday, February 20, 2012


In South Beach, at the Epicure, I had another lesson about snap judgements. A fastidious woman caught my eye, and I watched her closely. Well groomed, dressed in shades of brown with touches of gold, she first rubbed her hands with sanitizing gel, and wiped the table, on which she spread a clean napkin. How will she be able to eat anything? I wondered. I need not have wondered. Her daughter arrived with a bag from the Epicure deli, and pulled out two huge, thick, rare roast beef sandwiches. The fastidious woman dug in, bit hard, and devoured the dressing-moistened meat, the bread, the tomatoes. All! She and her daughter ate silently, avidly, yet neatly. Not a crumb on the sanitized table. I'm a bit of a crank about not eating red meat--and this meat was red--but please allow me: what could be more unclean than dead flesh? You see how creepy I can get. Yet I'm glad the woman could eat. I had visions of her wiping and wiping, never able to get things clean enough.

I've been away from blogging too long. Many things have kept me away: months of physical therapy, a lingering bout of illness, a departure for South Beach, and writing what I think are risky poems. Right now I'm listening to Callas sing: Casta Diva, che inargenti/ queste sacre antiche piante . . . (Pure Goddess, who silvers/ these sacred ancient plants.) No voice like hers! Callas the Goddess. How did she get that sound out while standing so still?

How are you? What are you listening to. Tell me, wont' you?


  1. What joy to read you again.

    Have to admit, that currently I enjoy mostly the silent sound of the house, with the clock ticking away time.

    Please have a good Tuesday ahead.

  2. Hello, Robert in Athens. What times you're living through there. Silent sound: I know what you mean.
    Be well, and warmest wishes . . .

  3. so happy to see you here, mim! i love the missives from South Beach. and i am most eager to read a "risky" poem from you. or even a plain vanilla poem from you.


  4. And glad to connect with you!

  5. Hi Mim, it's so nice that you are back; I'be been thinking of you, considering if I should write and ask if everything is fine so far.
    Why dindn't I do it?

    Your question is hard for me to answer in English(like so many things, unfortunately):

    Well, I rarely listen to music in these days, and although I know this is a loss I don't do anything for a change.
    And there are quite some more things I feel I could, I should, I must change.
    But something chokes me back, even if I know better. That's stupid and I wish I'd be smarter!!!

    Callas; I've always been afraid of her. I felt so impressed by her image that I never really thougt about listening to her music; I felt too dumb.
    I guess that's kind of a snap judgement, as well, and it probably, (like most of those judgements) says more about myself than about her.
    Maybe I catch my chance and follow the impulse you gave. I hope I'll do.

  6. Hello, dear Smilla--
    I too used to be afraid of Callas and her unbearable intensity, but I've come around.
    It's so good to hear from you.