Nono and Aunt Marj

Here is a Nono Lebasque and my nephew's portrait of me from 1995:

A GARDEN INSPIRED BY ASHER PAUL EDEN

I live here... 

THIS WAS THEN:

AND THIS IS NOW:

 

BECOMING UNTIL

She knew she was finished and all doors were closed

A chapter had ended and though sad she felt vaguely imposed.

She thought she loved him as he seduced her with flattery,

But as the time passed, she felt like a victim of mental battery.

Her love was like a mirage, a thought trapped inside her head

It was a delusion around rumination when at night she went to bed.

It is hard to not hold on, to let go of what sustained her on cold nights

And what was harder still was to find a new path with different delights.

Some live on the surface, never having heartache over trivial things

While others live within deep desire always wanting to catch brass rings.

She wears herself out with her silly passions and such

The truth is she must have not mattered much.

Now she watches from her window as the trains pass and hope drizzles in all lit

She waits and waits for just one to step off and somehow be a magical perfect fit.

She bends and at the end of the day, after all is said and the air is still

She sits on her green porch and she changes her thoughts… and becomes “until.”

© Marjorie J. Levine 2023

IN THE GLOAMING

My friend John went to Belize and found seduction by the sea

And when he told me about his place I knew that it was not for me. 

Joan traveled to Corviglia mountain to ski and had a great week

But her lofty and majestic adventure I knew I would not seek.

Diane lay on the white sandy beach of Estoril and basked in the sun

Quite frankly and honestly her vacation was not my idea of fun.

For what do I yearn and what do I seek?

I will give you all a slight brief peek.

I would love to reside on a particular green street

So in the morning I can hear the hearts of the doves beat.

And in the orange fall when the sun goes down and all is dark,

I can maybe go for a quiet walk or bike ride in a park.

I do not need anything fancy or remarkable to be so nice

But a warm house on a corner with a streetlight seems like paradise.

© 2022 Marjorie J. Levine

 

 

THE DEAD ZONE

All my friends, sadly, are dead. Nell, Roz, Phyllis, Joan, Rhoda, Betty, Jack, Nick, David, Jerry, Maxine, Gail, Ellen, Susan, Ricki, Annie, and many more. Some remain. 

Thankfully, I never get lonely. I like being alone and enjoy solitude. Attachment was never a goal for me... nor did I have a need to "partner up" and become a "we." My mother never nagged: "Get married." My single status never assigned me diminished status. My mother actually told me to be independent and encouraged me to have my own money. "What do you need him for?" was usually her response after I returned home from a Saturday night "date."

But sometimes, after more fall away, I try new ways to connect with others to fill what seems to be a need for communication... so that usually happens on the phone and sometimes the conversations last until well past midnight. Night owls have weird internal clocks.

Last night, I decided to become more active in a facebook group dedicated to singles. I posted a recent photo and several men sent me friend requests. I interacted in messages with a few and after a while I thought: "Marjorie what are you doing? You can't even cook, do yourself a favor and stop wasting their time and just dive down the escape hatch." I knew I preferred at that moment to watch episode 7 of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. I may go to a doctor. I think I have a severe problem.

 Oh, this guy Jack told me yesterday his 8 year old grandson draws better than I do. Ya think? Penis Envy was designed to be The Disaster Artist of books. Basquiat meets Mapplethorpe? Or a poor man's Egon Schiele?

If a banana duct-taped to the wall can sell for $120,000 at Art Basel, my "Vagina Dentata" could be worth some serious money. 

LIFE FOR DUMMIES

Life is so surreal

Even after his appeal

All he really got was this deal:

A stay of execution and eventually a final meal

Because even brave men die I feel.

© Marjorie J. Levine 2o23

Not funny? Too soon? 

Look at this treif I made.

My Uncle Robert

There are many sad stories that often go untold and as the decades pass, lives that were lived fade away. This was my uncle Robert. 

THIS RECORDING OF YOUR SON'S VOICE

MAY 30, 1914 - APRIL 1, 1994

my father:

Do you know who your great-grandfather was? His name?

 Yes, I do.

My great grandparents are Abraham Levine and Goldie Benjamin and they were from Minsk:

They settled in Brooklyn and all of the Levines gathered in 1916 for a family photo:

Abraham and Goldie had a son called Max Levine who is my grandfather. He married Bessie Lazarus.

My grandmother, my mother's mother, is Lena Kaplan (from Vilna). 

She married Maurice Seidel (from Vilna) and they had my aunt Ruth, my uncle Charlie, and my mother Dorothy (Levine). 

This side from Vilna: 

My parents had me, and I, at a young age, learned to follow the rule: even in shallow water, always wear a tube:

parent's wedding day: 

THE FAN BASE

Here is a compilation of some comments over the years written by "Yetta/Cookie" fans (my two broadcast names)... 

they sure are creative.

The Last Day and What Came Before

This is a present view in front of the school where I was on my last day:

This was where I waited for the bus to take me home on my last day:

And in between, some glimpses of what was during past times:

Quincy, IL