FLYING HIGH!! HOW HIGH?

Sometimes we don’t outgrow our ideas or sentiments. They last. Years back almost thirty years ago, I included a poem I wrote then into one of my books. (See below)

I also wrote several monologues for an English speaking drama group I led and directed. I am including one here. It recalled the suicide of my great grandmother.

MOLLY HERSHKOWITZ---- (82 years old)

To be played by an 80 year old plus, with a slight Yiddish accent:

Lying here, in my grave, I don’t have to worry and wonder who will take me in.

I am happy to be away from all the troubles. I don’t have to worry about being quiet and out of the way. Alright, the apartment was small. Hearing her husband shouting about how he wanted to see me stay with one of the step sisters-----how he needed more room----Nu? For what he needed so much room?

I used to light the Shabbos candles with my daughter. I don’t think she still does that after what I did. She only lit them because of me. She didn’t care about it any more.

She made good chicken soup with matzoh balls, but she always burned the bottom of the little diamond shaped cookies she baked for Friday nights. The stepsisters had big houses and big cars and fur coats on Long Island. We lived in a plain twp bedroom apartment in the Bronx.

So for Chana, my daughter, and my son Abbie, I  got married to a widower who had four daughters. We all come to America together---then my second husband dies too.

Nu, I was so afraid that I would have no place to live that I made up my mind to get out of the way. It was late morning, a sunny day, and I opened the front window of the living room and jumped out from the fourth floor.

I often wonder how everyone turned out. Did they talk a lot about me? Do they miss me? Were they mad at me for what I did? How do they explain it to the neighbors? Who showed up at my funeral?

Now, that I am that very age, I wonder if the world around me ---well, what will it be like? What will my absence recall? What will have been my message?

To conclude, the poem I mentioned above:

DON’T LIKE TO SEE LEAVES FALLING FROM THE TREES

I will rush away when my turn is up.

I’ll find untrodden corners and hide in the angles.

Someone I knew and spoke to last year is gone.

I knew her like my hands are known to me.

Bepiggled dumb earth to swallow up your dancers!

I wonder is there a far side and a near side to heaven?

Why can’t we choose our travel companions

So as to pack together and make ready the journey,

And send postcards along the way?

These are mere reflections----swiftly chosen this afternoon----why?

I am not sure.

Bidding you to read, MISS RHEINGOLD