Bernie turns 11
the cold is a shock
as we step outside
I put one arm around him
kiss his cheek
remembering
when I could hold
his entire body
with that same arm
3 November 2013
Oak Street
Category: Family
the man in the waiting room
my grandpa never wore
a fedora like the one
the old man is wearing
as he leans over my desk
(at least not when I knew him)
my grandpa didn’t have
the same bulbous Fields nose
showing the signs of
too many upward bends
of the elbow
but something about this man
as he asks me for a pen
to do the crossword
causes tears to fill my eyes
and I have to look away
28 October 2013
Oak Street
adding up
one day there are six, then none
a grumbling in the stomach
a trembling in the hands
then the mailbox delivers more
so it’s a cupboard full of noodles
a plastic container of miso paste
a small bag of Japanese rice
using every part of the cucumber
twice through on each tea bag
one chair in this room, one in that
but there are books to read
Duke Ellington records to listen to
a cushion under the window for meditating
and sometimes a smelly dog
and sometimes two lively boys
22 October 2013
Oak Street
tonight
started with crying
over unwanted homework
we figured out math problems
then read about superheroes
planned for the World Series
ate french fries with ketchup
wrestled in the living room
until two heads collided
tears again, briefly
it ended with snuggling
the smell of the dog
on the sheets and pillows
21 October 2013
Oak Street
inheritance
John’s watching Ghostbusters
at a little glass table
in the guest bedroom
every time he chuckles at
one of the laugh lines
I feel like a successful father
there’s no family estate to pass on
so I’m making do with
Ray, Venkman and Egon
the same way my grandfather
gave me Nat Cole and Glen Gray
on the turntable in the credenza
John’s laughing again as the guys
take down Slimer in the dining room
I put one arm around him, pull him close
20 October 2013
Oak Street
the result of 20 years
1993
Rochester, NY
two-bedroom apartment
downtown
Christopher worked in a bookstore
I worked at Columbia Bank
started writing funny poems
we made calzones or Boboli pizzas
I’d come home from the bank
every day for lunch
eat Maruchan ramen noodles
tortilla chips & W-POP root beer
the excuse was I’d just been
kicked out of my house
so I was figuring things out
*
2013
State College, PA
two-bedroom apartment
I don’t share it with anyone
I’ve got a job answering phones
in a Buick dealership
because not quite enough
people care about jazz
and I haven’t had health insurance
in more than three years
tonight for dinner I had
Maruchan ramen noodles
Utz pretzels and a Vanilla Coke
the excuse is I’m closer to my kids
restarting my life for the nth time
so I’m figuring things out
13 October 2013
Oak Street
brothers
in this photo they’re looking at one another
like they can’t think of anywhere they’d rather be
Bernie in a red sweatshirt, John in blue
they’re strapped into the seats like astronauts
waiting to be hoisted to the top of a tall tower
so they can plummet down screaming
the first time Bernie asked, John said no
but after a couple other rides at DelGrosso’s –
Pharoah’s Fury and the Crazy Mouse –
John changed his mind and they got in line
now, as they wait for the slow trip upward
Bernie is reaching out to John, maybe
asking his little brother to hold his hand
more for Bernie’s comfort than for John’s
standing at the base of the tower
I’m bursting with love for these two boys
certain that moving here was the right decision
when they come down, I’ll be waiting for them
22 September 2013
State College, PA
the boy across the street is moving away
two little boys in the driveway
saying goodbye, probably forever
at this moment it seems like
the biggest loss in the world
they’re not even sure how to act
one boy hugs, the other stands there
they exchange numbers
calling each other “dude”
then one turns, walks toward
the moving van in the driveway
the other watches him walk away
takes his mother’s hand
heads back to the house
21 September 2013
State College, PA
As you know if you follow me on any social media sites, I raised some money via Kickstarter to restart my show, The Jazz Session. As part of that relaunch, I decided to return to New York, the city I love the most and the place in the world where I feel most at home.
I left Auburn, Alabama on August 30 and flew to Detroit for the jazz festival. Then I spent 10 days in State College, PA, where my two young sons live. While I was there, I made a big and difficult decision, namely that I’m going to live in State College for now so I can be more of a dad to my sons.
When our family split up three years ago, I never imagined that eventually I’d live 1,000 miles from my kids and see them just twice in the past year. During the 10 days I spent with them this month, I realized what a stark difference there is in our relationship when I can be there for the little things — helping with homework or walking them to school or cheering them on at a game. As connected as I tried to be when I lived in NYC or Alabama, it just wasn’t the same.
After 38 moves, I finally figured out that New York is where I belong. Where I fit. Where I understand how the world works and how I work in it. But those two beautiful boys are growing up very quickly and I don’t want to miss more of their young lives. So for now, I have to say goodbye to New York as a place to live.
That said, I’ll be in New York frequently to do interviews for The Jazz Session and to attend gigs. The new season of The Jazz Session starts October 1 and I’ve already got some great shows lined up. So while I may not be in NYC every day as I planned, I will be here often. And someday I’ll be living here again.
My friend Mike recently told me about Alfred North Whitehead’s idea that we can’t have novelty without loss. I think Whitehead’s phrase was “life is robbery.” And then my friend Andrea commented that we’re often faced with two decisions for which valid arguments can be made, and sometimes we just need to pick one and let the other good path remain untraveled. In this case, I think the right choice is clear.
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dadhood
can you come to my game?
do you get this math question?
will you walk me to school?
can we play basketball in the driveway?
can I have a snack?
can we watch Spongebob?
what is Bristol barking at?
will you carry my backpack?
did you know we had a fire drill today?
do I have to go to football?
what are we having for dinner?
will you lie down with me?
will you read me this book?
can you stay another day?
when are you coming back?
11 September 2013
State College PA
on the Black Moshannon
a flotilla of water lillies
floating on the Black Moshannon
each one a seat for a deity
my son picks one white flower
brings it into the canoe
droplets falling off the petals
the sound of our hull
as it strikes the lily pads
is like metal on metal
later, as we stop beside the dock
Jen and I hold the boat stable
while our sons step back onto land
7 September 2013
State College, PA
moms
a seemingly endless line of women
in their late 30s or early 40s
each holding a travel mug in one hand
the end of a leash in the other
some are surrounded by a cloud of children
others wear children in front or in back
they talk about teachers and homework
managing careers and sports schedules
occasionally stopping in mid-sentence
to corral a wayward son or daughter
for a few minutes the steps of the school
are overrun like a beach at high tide
then they walk back down the path to town
leaving a lone employee to put away
the traffic cones and lock the front doors
4 September 2013
State College, PA
a few photographs
looking at pictures
isn’t nearly the same
as feeling their hands
in mine as we cross
a busy street or
their laughter as they
pile on me and wrestle
it can’t hold a candle
to a kiss when I tuck them in
or the sleepy “good night”
when their walls are down
but given a choice between
seeing their smiling faces
from a thousand miles away
and not seeing them at all
I’m pretty damn grateful
for pictures
6 August 2013
Auburn AL
what I choose to remember
she said I only remember the bad things
not the good things that happened since
but the bad things are so easy to remember
even if they didn’t leave physical scars
I’ve seen my blood on someone else’s hand
felt the crack of the knuckles across my face
those are things you can’t be expected to forget
no matter how many years move slowly by
we sit on opposite sides of a vast sea of silence
and for once in my life, I can hear myself think
5 August 2013
Auburn AL
Skilcraft pens
we had dozens of these
when I was a kid
every one of the
identical black bullets
marked “U.S. Government”
my dad brought them home
they were on his workbench
and in our junk drawer
and beside the phone
Dad used them to write his
precise, blocky script
Mom made shopping lists
using the penmanship she’d learned
back when they still taught such things
I used them to create role-playing
characters (strength, dexterity, etc.)
and I imagine them on the desks of
millions of government employees
keeping track, ordering, remitting
running the daily business of the country
before computers replaced the need
for a pen and sheets of carbon paper
before every form looked the same
23 July 2013
Auburn AL