He Is My Brother

He is the CEO of his own company

a respected businessman, a mover, a shaker

Familiar with airports all over the world, 
A problem solver, a forward thinker.

But more than all of that, he is my brother.

Do you remember how we made our own game of chess?

A cardboard carefully lined into equal squares

Horses and castles drawn on pieces of paper we cut

Queens and kings and bishops in black and in white 

He is a consultant to kings and princes,

An expert witness to give congress fright
Magazine covers graced by his handsome face

Evening news reporters in awe of his insight

But more than all of that, he is my brother.

Do you remember how we made a phone?

With paper cups and a piece of string pulled tight

We ran it across from your bed to mine

And what was it that we talked about all night?

He is a writer, a poet renowned

A weaver of words in our mother tongue

He speaks of the land, the mountains and trees

The beauty of his words brings a flow of tears

I read each poem a thousand and one times

and then I read them again to sway with the rhymes

Because you know more than anything, he is my brother.

Do you remember playing in the streets?

Hiding in our rooms, at times happy and at times sad

All that we endured, all that made us strong

Do you remember the good days and the bad?


A global citizen, he comes and he goes
To schools and libraries, he lends a helping hand
He builds up villages and cultivates the land
By just his presence, softens peoples' woes


Why does my heart swell with pride and with love

Because  as you know quite well by now
More than anything,  he is my brother.

Only To The Next Tree

In the summers we went to the village where the streets, not only in song, but literally had no name.   

I loved the village.  The sky was bigger, the stars were brighter, and the air less stuffy and hot than the city.  In the evenings, when we went for a walk up and down the main street, we needed a light sweater which we draped over our shoulders.  I had cousins who lived there year round, who would be waiting for us to arrive after nine months of separation and the reunions were always fun.  One of my cousins told me recently that she used to go wait in front of our house just in case we came that day.

Many of the village families owned fruit orchards, mainly apples, but plums, apricots, berries and some vineyards too.  My great aunt liked to take me along with her to pick the best table grapes for family dinners.  Her long white hair braided into a bun and covered with a scarf, she'd put on her boots, grab a basket and we'd walk the 20 minutes to the vineyard.  She was a different person there among her other family.  She walked slowly, touching her precious vines, cutting off branches she found useless, cradling a bunch of grapes in her palm as if to judge their sweetness by their weight.  She'd teach me their names and what foods they went with best.  These are called "bride's fingers", she'd say putting a bunch of 2 inch long, golden grapes in her basket.  They were my favorites.  

One of the highlights of the summer for me was apple picking.  It was a well planned and organized event. The timing had to be coordinated with relatives and neighbors so they could help each other.  Everyone went.  All the ladders available were taken and all capable hands put to work. There was lots of playful banter and singing from the top of the trees.  Young people fell in love in those orchards and the uncles made fun of them, singing "I lost my heart under the apple tree".  The older ladies were responsible for the food and all kinds of delicacies were spread out for lunch.  We ate and then took a siesta in the shade of the trees before we continued to pick those apples ever so carefully, not to leave fingerprints on them, and arrange them gently in wooden crates.

The crates were loaded on small trucks that went around to all the apple pickers that day and helped carry their harvest to huge trucks waiting up the dirt road.  Some of the men would get impatient and start carrying the crates themselves maybe to show off their strong muscles to the ladies.  

One day, I decided I was strong enough to help but mostly I wanted to follow cousin Jack around; at 15, he was 4 years older than me and way too cool.  So I  lifted a crate, thought it was light enough, I could  do this, and followed the men.  At first, I showed determination and courage, but after several minutes, that narrow dirt path got longer and longer.  Angry red marks burned on my arms, my knees wobbled and some moisture appeared in my eyes.  Cousin Jack turned around and looked at me dragging behind and waited.  When I got to him, he suggested I wait right there, he would sprint to the truck, drop his crate off and come back for mine.  But I was too embarrassed, the men would laugh at me on their way back and that's when he said it:  See that next tree ahead of us?  We'll just walk to that tree.  Don't look at the truck, only at that next tree.  So we walked together and when we reached that tree, Jack and I walked to the next one, and just like that, one tree at a time, we conquered that dirt path.  I loved my cousin Jack.

I never forgot that.  Many times over the years, a voice in my head whispered, only to the next tree, darling.  I told the story to my growing sons enough times that they would say, yes mom, we know, only to the next tree.  Funny thing is I saw cousin Jack at a wedding a few months ago and he had no recollection of it.  He thanked me for the story though and said it will come in handy for him too on days he struggles with the dirt paths in this life.


* The photo is not mine.  I found it on the internet. Don't know whom to give credit.

How I got my faith in humanity (or maybe just Macy's) back

The other day the husband informed me that he had no pants to wear.  Now this would have been just a common, matter of fact statement if he had not used "the tone" with it.  You know, the tone that tells you that the rain, snow, and even the floods all over the planet are your fault.  That kind of tone.  Also, the traffic, the neighbor's dog barking, the dry bread rolls at California Pizza, the drunk dude that approached us in the park - my fault.  While I'm at it, I might as well take responsibility for the problems in the Middle East and elsewhere.  Anyway, you get the idea.

I thought of teaching him a lesson and ignoring his hidden plea for help, but I worried that the poor man might die of hypothermia without his corduroys.  So off to the local Macy's I went.  I found the desired pants, but not in his size.  After a 20 minute wait for my turn, the saleslady checked her computer and confirmed that unfortunately the store did not have what I needed.  Being an experienced shopper, I asked if she could check if other stores in the area had them.  She was not too happy but obliged.  Good news, there were several stores in New York, Chicago, Minnesota and Washington DC which still were not sold out of the olive green and black ones, she announced.  That's great! I rejoiced,  could you call and order a few for me?  She looked at me as if I had asked her to fly to Mars for corduroy pants.  This was something every sales clerk had offered me in the past; after all, they want to sell the merchandise, don't they?  All I can do is print out a list of the stores and you can call them yourself, she offered.  As I walked away with the list in my hand, she added, and you'll have to pay shipping!  Thank you for your help, I said with that tone of sarcasm I use with the husband to counteract his accusatory one, you know the one.

Back home, I chose the one store I was quite familiar with,  Herald Square Macy's in New York City.  I knew what was going to happen next, so I made myself coffee, got some cookies,  Harry Potter book 5, sat in my favorite chair, put my feet up and called the number.  I was good at this game. Only five rings and  a human voice.
-Welcome to Herald Square Macy's.  For store hours and location, press 1; for credit card inquiries, press 2; for in-store departments, press 3....
~3!
- For cosmetics, press 1; for accessories, press 2; for children's clothes, press 3; for women, press 4; for men, press 5...
~ 5!
- For hosiery, press 1; for ties press 2; for suits, press 3; for brand names press 4....
~4!
-For Polo, press1...
~1!

The phone rang for at least 20 rings.  You might as well pick it up, I said, because I'm not hanging up.  Finally a young female voice, Macy's polo, may I help you?
I started telling her what I needed.  Pleated or flat front? Pleated, he's from the previous century. Colors, size, how many.  And then, Can you hold a minute?

Sure I can hold.  Sip of coffee, bite of cookie, Oh my God!  Mrs. Figg is a Squib? And dementors on Harry's street?

Hello?  Yes I found them, but have to put you on hold again because I have a customer waiting.
Sure, I'll be here.

Owls, owls, owls.  Owls everywhere!

Hello? Name, address, telephone and credit card information.  Can you hold please?  Repeat your address please? Can you hold again please, I'm sorry.
Sure, I'll be here.
Hello? I'm sorry but it's not accepting the zip code.
Oh, no 2 at the end, just 5 numbers, not 6.
Ok, can you hold please? Hello?  Oh no, I just hung up on this other lady and there are 2 people waiting here, I'm sorry, can you repeat the phone number please?  Voice is getting a bit distressed now.
What's you name?
Lynn.
Listen Lynn, don't worry, you're doing an incredible job all by yourself there.
Yes, I'm alone here.
Listen, My husband doesn't have any pants, and he's very cold, and it's his birthday (I thought I'll throw that in for good measure), I'm willing to wait; it's better than flying to New York, because Michigan is out of corduroy pants.  So do what you have to do there and get back to me.  Just don't drop my call, Lynn, ok?
Ok. Please hold.

Coffee and cookies are gone by now, but Harry's having a nervous breakdown for being kept in the dark for so long.

Hello? Ok credit card information.  The pants are 40% off..
Really?
Will you be using Macy's card?  You get another 15% off if you do.
Really.
No shipping because Michigan is out of them.
Really!  Wow, Lynn, we're doing extremely well here.
So you'll get these by Tuesday.  I hope your husband has a happy birthday.
Thank you Lynn.  Thank you for being so nice and patient.  You are a super saleslady.
Thank you Mrs A. Sorry for putting you on hold so much.

Mission accomplished.  As a bonus, faith in humanity restored.

Total time: 1 hour, 25 minutes.
Number of holds: 126
Total savings: 40% + 15% + no shipping
Coffee: 1 huge mug
Cookies: 3 small ish.
Chapters read: 4
Surprising husband with pants on Tuesday: priceless!

This effort is dedicated to Lynn, superior saleslady at men's Polo department at Herald Square Macy's, New York, NY