HOURGLASS

Hourglass filled with sand.

Each grain a short film.

Soundtrack of “Always”

(I’ll be loving you, always; with a love that’s true, always…).

Conversations she had with you…

Hourglass sand sifting through a life

deliberately those first years,

then barely not at all,

crumbs frozen in time.

Yet the leading lady is with us all again

recalling each scene we starred in together-

the long talks,

the beaches and the boardwalks,

the songs.

Always the songs!

Then the hourglass begins to evaporate.

Grain by grain.

Scene by scene.

Song by song.

Talk by talk.

And we are left here with all of her:

“Quick! Grab my hand! Where’s Mom! Where’s Jack! Oh my God! Let’s run!”

The explosions, the fires.

“Take my hand, Sophie! Thank God everyone’s all right!”

From Eastern Europe she again grasps the torture of freedom at six years old.

And then aboard the Ellis Island ship

a big bright orange drops from somewhere

into her small left hand.

“Good catch, Hannah!” Mom shouts.

Some stranger says to the little girl:

“That orange comes from your new home- America! All things sweet and safe here.”

So Annie never forgets that first taste of freedom…

Now there’s Pop, Jack, and Harry in the kitchen playing cards on Yontif?

“Mom, as long as the family’s together”, Hanna says, and Bubby Arbus gently squeezes her daughter’s hand, nodding.

Oh, the sand runs its unbearable course so deliberately!

Then she spots her card shark gangsters smoking together upstairs,

tossing Silk City quarters into the kitty.

“Here, dolls, have a little of Mom’s hot soup”, serving her brothers, then leaving a kiss on Harry’s cheek.

Now there’s Morris on the phone at the mill:

“Yes, Annie, all right, Hannala, I’ll bring Mom over after work.”

Later she sees her brother slowly climbing up the three flights of stairs,

19^th Avenue,

Paterson.

And Sammy’s somewhere in Europe,

her tall, handsome soldier boy-baby brother.

“He should know what’s new with the family,

and what a doll Doris is!”

So she writes him a letter every day.

Meanwhile, the sand steadily piles up,

a precious sentient snowdrift in her head.

“Al, Honey, could you stop by Dora’s on the way to the store and drop off these bowls?”

“Sure, Annie, no problem.”

Annie’s never a problem.

“And Charlie, next time we visit the children up north,

remind me to show them this beautiful letter Esther wrote me.”

“Of course, Anne, whatever you want.”

Still the inevitable sand drips,

grain after grain,

all of us here witnessing

those who were here before us,

and she has watched all of us

from both ends of the hourglass

throughout those final years

that could not be restrained

that tragically sped by without warning.

And the phone calls to us in Yiddish and English.

Michigan Rummy on Thursdays, Mahjong,

bowling with her girls Mondays,

Salmon croquettes for dinner,

later getting up for work to open the store,

all those years…

days…

dying into precious seconds…

grains of sand

relentlessly flooding the hourglass.

And Myra and Marv’s wedding at Fellerman Hall…

Judy’s ballerina dress…

her son’s Bobby’s incomprehensible explanations for a better world…

For all of us…

she always made enough time,

always enough strength,

enough resiliency

with dignity and grace…

and always,

the lady…!

“Always”

…remember?

She does!

composed and eulogized on 9/16/1995 for my mother, Anne Arbus Feldman

Elmwood Park, New Jersey