Last week’s post, MY FATHER’S DREAM, plucked deep chords within readers.
I’ve decided to share more in relation to my father who, since his recent death, is very much in my mind and heart. Of course, what I post is never just the subject of my father.
I wrote IN THERE WITH THOSE GIRLS over twenty-five years ago in honor of my father’s 70th birthday. It was subsequently selected for publication by Marge Piercy, the poetry editor of TIKKUN Magazine at the time. LEAVENING, another poem chosen for publication at the same time, follows.
As always, your comments are warmly invited!
Listen to Ani read IN THERE WITH THOSE GIRLS and LEAVENING. Look for the media player at the end of each poem’s text below.
IN THERE WITH THOSE GIRLS
by Ani Tuzman
The chickens didn’t give anyone their eggs
the way they gave them to my daddy
like they loved him—the way
he learned their language. Ladies, he’d
call softly in English and Yiddish as soon
as he came through the door. It’s just me.
Takiteasy, he would say. One long word
he stroked them with. Takiteasy.
If I came in the coop with him, they would
cackle like crazy like they weren’t going to
calm down no matter how nice he asked them.
So I would go out and just listen—listen
to my daddy singsong those mean white birds
with his tss tss tss and the ketsella and
bubala he usually reserved for my mother.
He’d roll up his sleeves, all the time making his
sweet sounds and looking them right in the eyes,
sliding his hairy arm under their plump bodies, his
fingers stretched in the straw for one of their
warm eggs. They would never peck at him or balk.
Once in a while one of them talked back and
my daddy would answer straight off, promising
I won’t hurt you, Sheina Meidella. You don’t need
to worry. He never ran out of sounds.
He’d have whole conversations while he filled
the wire baskets with eggs that cooled quickly.
In Uncle Menasha’s kitchen in the Bronx
my daddy said he hated the stink of the coops,
the dust, having to worry about the price of eggs
dropping. He knew the big farms, the ones that
did it all by machine, would sooner or later
drive the small farmers out. The handwriting was
on the wall, he would have said if he knew
English idioms. He complained instead, It’s a
fashtinkenna business. That’s all there is to it.
But in there with those girls he was
someone who threw the clock away,
moving among them like he was dancing,
like he was making love, as if he’d been
born on a chicken farm—clucking to them
all the way, soft clucks, staccatos,
whispering that they were so good, so beautiful,
such dedicated mothers.
Listen to Ani read “IN THERE WITH THOSE GIRLS”:
LEAVENING
by Ani Tuzman
I was bred on rye
with caraway seed, dark rye,
light rye, salami sandwiches rich
with mayonnaise and tomatoes, sour
pickles docked like canoes
on my plate.
I was bred on occasional hysterics,
Yiddish idioms, broken
English hurled
against the kitchen walls, echoing
in the lonely farmhouse
under hissing stars.
My grandfather dipped black crusts
in vodka for breakfast, my father,
a boy, given the moist
crumbs. During the War
my mother hid stale bread she
softened in the rusty rain.
Hastening out of Egypt,
there was no time to bake.
The leavening was of people
banded together like well-kneaded grain;
they breathed as one rising mound
in the heat.
Listen to Ani read “LEAVENING”:
G'Mar Chatima Tova
I close with this customary greeting whose literal meaning is: "a good final sealing." I will add to that: May you know the love of which you are made. What better than to know this?
With gratitude,
Ani
Your comments make this blog a conversation!
I would love to hear from you.
To avoid spam all comments are moderated by Ani. So if you don’t see your comment show up, not to worry; your comment will be up within within 24-48 hours
Oh, yes! And “In There With Those Girls.” I have picked eggs , too, on my uncle’s farm when I was a boy. Of course, I was nowhere near the maestro that your father was; but I didn’t have the advantage of maturity and marriage that he had. My companion Lorraine’s mother also raised chickens in the garage behind their house in Ridgefield Park, NJ. You might like to discuss chickens with her sometime. Where was your “lonely farmhouse/ under hissing stars,” by the way?
If humans and other animals didn’t eat most of chickens’ eggs, would the planet be unsustainably groaning under the weight of trillions of chickens in addition to billions of humans? Is our predation God’s way of keeping the biosphere alive? Perhaps our own species needs to be “picked,” too, for the sake of Gaia?
Well, Ani, I am a male “outsider” here (at hour invitation); but I also like poetry and other forms of sharing.
“Leavening” is the best poem I have ever heard about “rye-bred” ! “You don’t have to be Jewish to like Levy’s,” as you know; and I DO like that stuff.
Your strong, clear, musical reading voice enhances your written words. I’m glad that you could include it on this website.
As an old-fashioned guy, I still prefer to read (and write) rhymed, metered verse, although I realized it is not in vogue today. I will send you some, both “light” and more weighty.
Your for a more poetic life for everyone,
Bob Cable
Somerville, MA
Loved reading your poetry. You are very gifted,
I recently came across these poems and they are beautiful. I remember both your parents well,as I went to Rhawnhurst Elementary with your sister Shelley. Thanks for all the beauty here. Linda
Dear Linda,
How wonderful that you found your way here through cyberspace! Amazing the connections that become possible in this world wide web. I hope that all is well with you, wherever you find yourself. Wonder if you are still in touch with my sister, who, if you are, you know, goes by Rochelle now. 🙂 I will let her know I heard from you!
Warmly,
Ani
PS. I sincerely apologize for how long it has taken me to reply! I did not see your response at the time you wrote it and somehow not later either. (I can tell now, from the date, that I was away from home; I was awaiting the birth of a new grandchild.) I have not been posting on the blog nor adding poetry of late. That will be changing soon. I am about to birth a novel and will be sharing news of that birth and its emergence into the world of light. Stay tuned! Many blessings! Ani
Ani, I love these poems. It was so good to take the time to hear your voice. You brought me into these experiences. I could see your father dancing in the chicken coops, and the mound of people breathing together. Thank you for the details that take us in and the love that is embed into the words.
My Dear Ani, When I listen to your poems in your voice I know a kind person. I love your story poems~~~~Thank-you Love, Megan
You’re on!
Ani,
I love how you have added the readings for each one…such a treat to have both. And I love that you’ve again gotten InThere with Those Girls out to more of an audience. YAY! Now on to a book of poetry!
Love,
Meg
Thank you! I actually hesitated, not sure whether to add the readings of not, then decided to go for it, though the quality of the recordings is less than ideal. One more chance to do things imperfectly…and do them anyway.
A book of poetry has been a dream for many years. I reckon winning the Hixson Award award and getting my poetry out is bringing me several steps closer.
I happen to know you are an extraordinary poet. I wish for you and all your fortunate readers that your work will be shared more widely and also that we will be able to relish a collection of your poems!
We can encourage—and even dare—each other!
Love,
Ani
Ani, I love these poems and hearing you read them. I think you are fabulous!
Love,
Heidi
As my son Emmanuel says on just about every Facebook post he sees. “Awww“….
Your reading and listening is truly appreciated.
Ani
Thanks dear Ani. What a beautiful image of your father,so soft, so lovely. Thanks for sharing…especially your beautiful voice reading. Om Namah Shivayah.
Loving you,
Susan
Thank you, Susan. Thanks for taking the time to listen in the midst of what I know is harvest season on your homestead!
I also know from your participation in the Saturday writing tribe how many times your poems have taken my breath away—or maybe it is more correct to say, helped me breathe more deeply.
Blessings on all the forms harvest takes!
Ani
I love these! Having chickens, I can be right there.
Thanks, dear one.
🙂 Since my dad’s death, I have been thinking of getting chickens! Might consult with you one day!
Dona, I am time and time again moved by your poetry and prose that captures your deep love and resonance with the creature world. I am fortunate I get to hear it in Friday’s Writing Tribe for ripe women over 60! One day, we will have a portal here on the site for publishing such work!
In the meantime, I look forward to more the next time we sit together.
Love,
Ani
Ani…so very perfectly beautiful as always…bringing my heart to a standstill in the midst of my own swirl.
Megan
Oh how often I need that! Am grateful the poems could have that effect, Megan.
These latest? poems you share so generously are truly an exquisite miracle of your soul ….so real and so extraordinarily simple. Thanks so much for sharing! Beth
Ah, what fulfilling words: generous….exquisite…miracles….soul….extraordinarily simple….
What more can one ask in relation to the offering of one’s work and self…
Ani
So wonderful to hear your voice, Ani, and to experience your relationship with your childhood, with your father. Thank you! Joanie Levine
Thank, you, Joanie, for taking the time to read and listen. It means a lot to me.
I would love to experience some of your art as well one of these days. Have you any performance pieces or otherwise having to do with your parents? Links?
Ani