mirror ball 48: immortal beloved

The Song of Solomon, the sonnets of Shakespeare, sweet country music: for thousands of years, men and women have written and sung about the people they love most dearly. Through these songs and poems, something of these beloved people lives on.

Think about someone you love or have loved—lover, friend, parent, brother, sister, child. What do you want others to know about him or her? What are one or two things that you would like history to know about him or her?

Valerie:
Immortal beloved

Some things in our lives have aged in twenty-five years
Have stiffened, have crusted over
Oil in the antique sewing machine
Bark on the young tree we planted
Stains in our favorite cookbook

You? Laugh lines are deeper, hair greyer
Me? Changes show too

But
More than ever, I still want to
Sit with you at evening
Cook with you on a Sunday morning
Chat as we walk
Laugh in bed at jokes no one else will hear

These things
These
These have not become rigid
Nor stiffened over time to something hard

Only
To something strong and good
Immortal
Beloved 

John:
Every summer he makes a point of going to the State Fair to visit the goats. He walks among the pens, patting their little heads and letting them nibble on his shirt tail. This is a highlight of his year -- you should see the way he smiles at them, and how they smile back. 

Eve:
Who will I always cherish?  so many, but for today, my maternal grandmother. speaker of 6 languages, dismissive of the gossipy old ladies in lawn chairs outside her brooklyn apartment building,  baker of fine rugelach. Born left handed and forced to use the right.  So very smart, who knows what she would have accomplished if she hadn't been born in 1901 and separated from her family by the war. Her portrait, a photograph at age 19 ca. 1920, hangs in my daughter's bedroom.  Her mother's mother's mother.

Lori M:
My beloved grandfather, still alive at 98, a survivor of the Holocaust who immigrated to the US in '39, made sure, by his generous contributions, that his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren have the chance to be educated to the level that they aspired to.  A true blessing for each member of my family. 

Tom:

Here is what I wrote for Barb on our 18th anniversary (our next anniversary is our 20th). After I gave it to her, she put it on our bedroom wall. Not sure this fulfills the Mirror Ball request, but thought I'd share anyway.

I'm sorry, honey

But I didn't get you a card

Not even one that was funny

Because I wanted to make this hard

For our anniversary this year

I thought I'd write another rhyme

One that makes it clear

Our love just has no end time

Babe, You are my heart,

Babe, You are my soul

You and I will never part

Because you, Barb, make me whole

No matter what your age

Or mine, for that matter

No matter our home or our wage

Or whether we each get fatter

Honey, I love you

And I'm going to love you forever

These words I write are true

I'm not just trying to be clever

When you became my wife

It was the most wonderful thing

It completely changed my life

It was no passing fling

So know these words my dear

Back when I said "I do"

One thing, to me, was completely clear

I am totally and utterly in love with you

Happy Anniversary, Barb my love

Happy Anniversary, number 18

It's not just our marriage that I write of

'Cause it feels like 18 years of dating. 

Paula: 
Beloved

I will name you your thousand names

until there is no word left to render you.
Then in the silence of my wordlessness
I will listen for the true sound to call you.

Dan:
Caretaker
 

During the fall of 1979 I stopped my honda civic, walked over to the the pile of books and whatnot. The driveway was full of stuff for sale and at the end of the day the left overs would be thrown in bags and hauled away. I found a dirty velvet photo album - inside were the photos of a family. From the cursive writing on them it looked like they ranged from 1850 - 1925. I bought it - not knowing what I would do with it - these photos have traveled with me ever since - the album and pages have dissolved but the photos I've archived. 

The photos start - on the bow of a ocean liner headed from Germany to America - then a scene of a ruddy woman feeding chickens, a dusty lot - then a the family on a trip to Lake Okabogie - the father with handle bar moustache - christenings, family visits, a couple in front of a Model T car - dark mahogany interiors filled with oriental rugs and a fern sitting on a table and then finally - a family brood, the women in short skirts, cloche hats and the men in white linen pants - all standing or sitting in front of a huge new home. The house I'd bought the album at. 

I've been a caretaker of these photos and take then out now and then - holding them - life caught in passing. I'm sure they will be among my possessions when I pass on. These photos - I can't throw out - If "I" look at them - then those people that stood in front of the lens are alive and present. In turn I feel part of the whole. 

Steve: 

He is a strong, grown man, and the sweet child that he once was is still present in him every day. And he makes the best biscuits ever.