from "Duke Rhino," a work in progress [by Mitch Sisskind]

   

This was the first day of a new school year. I would be starting
seventh grade. My mother and I were in the breakfast nook.
The Chicago Tribune was on the table with two pictures on the
front page. One picture showed National Guard soldiers in Arkansas,
where the governor was trying to stop Negro kids from entering
the high school. I was familiar with that story. 
    There was also a picture of a blonde woman laughing, an actress
or some celebrity. I could read her name upside down.
    I asked, “Who’s Marilyn Monroe?” 
    “The most beautiful woman in the world.” 
    “Who’s the smartest man in the world?”
    “Albert Einstein.”
    “Who’s the strongest man in the world?”
    “Rocky Marciano.”
    “Which was the greater civilization, Egypt or Rome?”
    “What do you think?” 
    “Egypt.” 
    My father came into the breakfast nook and said good morning.
He gave my mother a kiss and went through the swinging door
into the dining room. I had already squeezed the orange juice so
my mother poured two glasses, one for my father and one for me,
and I brought them into the dining room. 
    On weekdays during the school year my father liked us to have
breakfast together, starting with orange juice. But my mother had
an attack during the night so she went to lie down, and it was just
my father and I at the table. When my mother had an attack, even
a bad one, we didn’t talk about it the next morning. We didn’t ever
talk about it. Soon we heard the door in the kitchen open as
Catherine arrived and started making French toast.

                                                ***

    I was five years old when we moved into the apartment. There
were three carpeted bedrooms with high ceilings, four bathrooms,
a foyer, a dining room, a living room, a room we called the library,
a kitchen, the breakfast nook which used to be called the butler’s
pantry, and a long hall where I played football and bombardment
with my cousin Victor. 
    There were three televisions in the apartment, one in the living
room, one in my father’s bedroom, and one in the library. They
were like living things, each with its own personality and its own
job to do. Because the color television was in the library, the
library was the most important room in the apartment. 
    When we moved into the apartment my mother had a plan to
combine what was called the maid’s room with another room in
order to create the library. When the work was done, the library
had dark green carpeting, wood-paneled walls, and a special
ceiling for indirect lighting designed by Albert Arenberg. Albert
Arenberg had photographs taken that were published in a
magazine for interior decorators.
    The two main pieces of furniture in the library were the driftwood
table and the color television. The driftwood table was a curved
piece of glass about five feet long on top of a large piece of gray
driftwood. There was always a small bowl of candy on the
driftwood table, usually chocolate covered cherries. 
    People commented on the driftwood table, how they had never
seen anything like it before. But the color television was by far the
most important piece of furniture in the library. It was massive, you
could sense the weight of it, and the screen diagonal was twenty-
seven inches. The color didn’t really work, people’s faces were
orange or green, but you could adjust the settings so it turned
into a regular black and white television. That’s usually what we
did. But it was still a color television. 
    My father’s favorite leather chair and its ottoman were across the
room facing the color television. To the left of the chair was a small
end table with an ashtray, and beyond the end table was the card
table with four leather chairs where pinochle was played on Saturday
afternoons, Monday nights, and sometimes on Sundays. There
were also two large sofas in the library and another leather chair
with another end table where my father kept his cigars in a special
wooden box called the humidor. There were no books in the library
except the TV Guide.

                                                       ***

    I went to a private elementary school called the Harris School. When
my father was in the Jewish Orphans Home he had school every day
of the year and he got an excellent education. He gave me a medal for
physics that he won in the year 1904. He wanted me to go to a good
school and a hard school, although my grades weren’t important to him
as long as I passed. He didn’t think the public schools were good enough
and he thought most of the private schools were too easy. 
    There were very few students at the Harris School. In my class there
were only nine kids, seven boys and two girls. Most of the kids at the
school were smart, but not all of them. Most of them were peculiar,
but not all of them. 
    Boys’ uniforms at Harris School consisted of a blue blazer with a
gold Harris School crest embroidered on the pocket, a white shirt,
a black knit tie, gray woolen pants that felt horrible if the weather
was warm, and black lace-up shoes. Girls wore red blazers with
the Harris School crest on the pocket and dark blue skirts. All the
girls wore white Keds gym shoes and white socks although that
was not part of the official uniform. In second grade at the Harris
School all the boys started carrying brief cases but none of the girls did. 
    My father taught me how to tie a Windsor knot. I was the only kid at
the Harris School who could do that, not that anyone noticed. As I tied
the Windsor knot while looking in my bathroom mirror, I wished that I
was more excited about starting seventh grade. It was frightening when
my mother had an attack like she had the night before. The blue room
was right next door and the walls were thick but I could hear her
screaming. It always happened at night and it was forgotten in the
morning. Maybe it wasn’t forgotten but we never talked about it. 

                                                  ***

    My cousin Victor went the public school called Lemoyne which
was like a different planet from the Harris School. There were no
uniforms at Lemoyne. Tough kids went there. If two kids got in an
argument during the week they would say, “I’ll see you on Saturday.”
That meant they would meet in the schoolyard where fights took place. 
    There were fights between two boys or two girls or even between
boys and girls. Sizes or ages didn’t matter, anybody could fight anybody
else. Sometimes the fights were really bad with blood and even teeth
getting knocked out. Victor and I watched a few times and then we
stopped going.
    One summer when I went to day camp my father paid for Victor to go
also. He won the boxing championship of the camp but it wasn’t like he
was actually fighting. Victor was never in a fight. I certainly never had a
fight with him, not even after he burned my arm with the cigarette lighter
in the back seat of the car. Once when I knew I was going to sneeze I
waited until the last second and then sneezed right in Victor’s face.
He didn’t get mad. In fact we both laughed about it. 

Comments

[Mona Houghton]

Mitch....good read....MORE....

[Summer Brenner]

If anything can approach the sensation of infinitude, it's memory. Mitch has found unlimited access. Bravo, Mitch!

[Joel Weiner]

I read this poem while eating a Chiquita brand banana. The banana came from Honduras where some migrants are now being sent by bus to NYC Port Authority terminal. I enjoyed both the read and the banana but not our President's open border policies subjugating vulnerable peoples to uncertainty about their future here in America. I'm going to take my mind away from this inhumanity and read more Mitch Susskind poems; I feel freer doing so while not contemplating any haphazard, destructive legislation by politicians.

[Joel Weiner]

Mitch Sisskind, not Susskind...typo..I apologize.

[Bruce Kawin]

Terrific, Mitch!

[Rhiya]

Read Rilke first, then read Holderlin.

[Nisha]

Thanks for one marvelous posting! I enjoyed reading it; you are a great author.I will make sure to bookmark your blog and may come back someday. I want to encourage that you continue your great posts, have a nice weekend!