Signs of Spring, by Susan Lesser

A glove has gone missing, a black knit one. No matter. I can cope.

People are refusing to wear their hats. Look around. See what I mean?

Birds, the intrepid ones, the scouts, are singing heartily in the trees behind our house, not often, not aways, but with great sincerity.

I have decided not to make pot roast for dinner after all. Instead we will have salmon and asparagus, and melon for dessert.

The cats, both cats, went outside. It was only for about four minutes, but they did it. Afterwards, they ran shivering upstairs and tucked themselves back in into bed.

This morning I forgot to use the magic blue fob on my keychain that starts my car from behind the kitchen door.

The trees on the hillsides, that last month were only unrelenting gray, now present themselves in a pink sort of haze, if you catch them in just the right light.

The bottle of water in my car is not always frozen solid. Such freezing creates a useful missile to hurl at brigands and bears, but does nothing for the thirsty driver.

The seed catalogues that arrive in the mail make sense now. The ones that came in January went straight into the recycling bin.

From Emily — a poem, by Sue Crowley

Emily wrote, "A solemn thing it was I said."

There are no other lines, no punctuation, no frame of reference

     from the lines above or below.

Only, "A solemn thing it was I said"

So was this descriptive, as in 'I said it was a solemn thing?'

Or declarative, as in 'I said a solemn thing?'

I think the latter, a solemn thing it was she said,

and now I want more words she said.

Or scribbled in the nooks and crannies of her little house,

     her worn wooden desk,

     her so observant mind.

"A little madness in the spring"

of tiny birds, brown and blue,

    arriving with the waxing sun.

Surviving through the bitter dark,

    flitting little miracles of life.

Or snowdrop and crocus sprigs, how do they dare

    poke green defiance into ice?

They must be mad.

Or do the birds and flowers know what we cannot,

constrained within this cranium, this mammal mind?

Apart, yet part, of the same sunlight,

the same urge to life?

Do intrepid bluebirds sing the answer

in a language meant for flight, while

earthbound, we hear only sound?

Is there a knowing in the ground from which come

the seeds and bulbs unfolding slowly, so slowly

it escapes our frantic eyes?

A solemn thing perhaps I say about madness in the spring,

when ordinary miracles abound.

I am a Woman Who . . .

This list was compiled during the last few minutes of a writing workshop held at Tompkins County Public Library on Saturday afternoon, March 14, 2015. The workshop was held in conjunction with Women's History Month, and designed as a way to honor significant women in our lives. At the end, we celebrated ourselves by creating this collective list. 

Contributors: Barbara Kane Lewis, Gabrielle Vehar, Jackie Parslow, Kathy Hopkins, Maude Rith, Zee Zahava

I am a woman who is amazing

I am a woman who is ready for spring cleaning, summer travel, fall weatherings 

I am a woman who might create a new computer language

I am a woman who can cook for two — exactly enough for dinner, with leftovers for lunches the next day

I am a woman who can finish a book

I am a woman who is ready for a new knitting project

I am a woman who can look fabulous in ten minutes, though putting on lipstick requires a bit more time

I am a woman who is realistic, without taking on more projects, plans or supplies than I can use in one lifetime

I am a woman with a very rich fantasy life and I’ll generously share

I am a woman who is an excellent listener

I am a woman who didn’t have a curl on my head until I went through menopause

I am a woman who always wears black and silver and turquoise

I am a woman who loves my cats more than I love anyone else

I am a woman who has lots of opinions that I keep to myself . . . unless I don’t, and then: Watch Out

I am a woman who is trying to learn to care-take myself as well as I do the others in my life

I am a woman who can’t throw anything away (because I might need it one day)

I am a woman who doesn’t trust people who only give pale, wishy-washy hugs

I am a woman who is introverted and craves close connections . . . but not too many

I am a woman who is always in the middle of reading several books

I am a woman who has many interests — reading about air traffic control one day, and origami the next

I am a woman who laughs when no one else is laughing

I am a woman who is a night-owl by nature, but I've tried to be a morning person because I like the mornings

I am a woman who sometimes forgets to be polite, using my shirt as a napkin, for example

I am a woman who has trouble identifying as a woman; not biologically, but perhaps psychologically

I am a woman who can organize a garage, an event, or a drawer

I am a woman who went to Africa, with a 15-month-old child, and slept under a thatched roof in a hammock

I am a woman who can get a car repaired, with French insurance, at a French repair shop

I am a woman who can connect people to people

I am a woman who is intuitive

I am a woman who is afraid to try new things but does them anyway

I am a woman who has good intentions and a good imagination; who talks to the Man in the Moon

I am a woman who keeps balls in the air and all the plates spinning

I am a woman who loves to sing

I am a woman who enjoys talking with strangers (friends I have not yet made)

I am a woman who drives to unknown destinations even though I have a poor sense of direction

I am a woman who loves life

I am a woman who gets carried away by enthusiasm, and then gets exhausted by all my new ideas and inspirations, with little ability to pace myself

I am a woman who is superstitious

I am a woman who had a sweet dream once, about my own death: in the springtime, while sitting in a chair near a lake; there were swans floating by on the water; it was England

I am a woman who wished, sincerely, to be a nun, if only it didn't require converting to Catholicism

I am a woman who can laugh at myself

I am a woman who used to be a rather good tap dancer

I am a woman who pauses, more and more often, trying to retrieve the right word which seems to be flittering just beyond my grasp

With gratitude to Judy Grahn, whose 1972 "She Who" poem served as our inspiration

When I Was Growing Up

When I Was Growing Up: a collection of mini memoir pieces written between March 2 and March 7, 2015

Antonia Matthew

When I was growing up we went to the seaside in the summer. We rode donkeys up and down the sand and then watched the Punch and Judy puppet show in the stage set up on the beach. How we laughed when Punch hit the policeman with the truncheon! Then we put on our bathing suits and built sandcastles as the tide came in until the waves washed them away. If we were lucky we'd be taken to the pier and have pink candy floss. I'd sleep in the bus all the way home.

When I was growing up I lived in a tall, thin terrace house, with a dark double basement, four floors and a narrow staircase that seemed to go up forever. My favorite room was on the top floor. It had low windows that I climbed out of, into the wide stone gutter which I could just see over, down into the street. I would hide up there, with the pigeons cooing around me, spying on people in the street below, imagining that I was in a castle with boiling oil to pour down on them.

Barbara Brazill

When I was growing up there was a little cottage outside of our village that was a doll hospital. My Ginny Doll needed repair now & then, new wigs, arms put back on . . . what a jolly little business, back when dolls were precious & got repaired instead of tossed. Oh my. I still have my Ginny Doll (and she could use a new wig).

Deirdre Silverman

When I was growing up, I believed everything my sister told me. But one day, when I was four and she was twelve, she told me about a new, very sweet kind of lemon. She raved about how delicious it was. I couldn’t resist. I popped half of this “better lemon” into my mouth, screamed in shock, and didn’t trust my sister again for years.

When I was growing up on Long Island, there was rarely enough snow for sledding. But on those few snow days, kids came from all parts of our flat town to sled on the biggest (maybe the only) hill on a street at the end of our block. Though I was in no way responsible for this achievement of legendary height, I was proud to live so close to the “big hill.” Visiting the town years later, I realized that hill wasn’t even as steep as the front yard I now walk up and down every day.

When I was growing up, I went to sleep-away camp for eight weeks every summer. Parents’ visiting weekend came halfway through the season. My Uncle Jack and Great Uncle Schmiel owned a wholesale candy business, so every year my parents brought candy for the whole camp. Cartons of Sugar Daddys, Bonomo Turkish Taffy, Double Bubble Gum and button candy made everyone happy. For two days I was the most popular girl in camp.

Donna DiCostanzo

When I was growing up I was the only princess in the palace for the first two years of my life. After that my sister was born and 14 months later my brother was born and 3 years later my youngest brother was born. It was a short reign. I only wish I had the foresight to make bigger demands when I was royalty.

When I was growing up I loved school so much that I pretended to be a teacher. I would ask my younger siblings to be my students and they usually obliged me. Old issues of the TV Guide served as their workbooks and at the end of class I would grade their work with a red pencil. I'd actually teach them something new each class and then test them on what they had learned. If they had been better students I might have pursued a teaching career.

Gabrielle Vehar

When I was growing up I used to wish on stars, but I don't do that anymore.

When I was growing up sometimes I really hated my parents, but once I went away to college love started to grow in me, until I was suffused in its glow.

Greta Singer

When I was growing up television was new. Very few people had a TV set and people who had one were forced to share. Tuesday nights at 8 o'clock The Milton Berle Show was on, and watching it was like going to a party. I went to the corner candy store where about 25 people, with kids on the floor in front, sat on chairs and stools to watch and laugh together. Some people bought candy and passed it around. It was a real neighborhood event every week. Later we all got TVs and the party was over.

When I was growing up in Brooklyn, kids were freer than they are now. We were allowed to go out and play in the street all day until it was dark. At age 11 we took the subway to the beach at Coney Island in the summer. We took the public bus to junior high school. At 12 or 13 we went into the City to shop or see a musical. Our time was not organized by our parents. I think we grew up more resilient, more independent, more ready for the world than kids do now.

Jackie Mei

When I was growing up I loved the wild raspberry patches and the picking rituals in August. Lots of "Off!" bug spray, and our berry pails on our belts — the old peanut butter pails with circus animals on them.

When I was growing up I was the only Chinese girl on the planet. I was maybe five years old in a grocery store when another little girl said, "Look, Mommy! A Chinese girl!" I quickly looked around to see if I could spot her.

Leslie Howe

When I was growing up I loved to ride my bike to my friend Sylvia's house. We would go to the Idle Hour store in the middle of Orient Point, Long Island, buy candy bars, put them in our shirt pockets, and then ride down to Long Island Sound, where we sat in the sand, ate the delicious candy, and discussed what we wanted to be when we grew up. 

When I was growing up my friend and I wrapped towels around our bodies to look like we were wearing "tight skirts," and danced to American Bandstand on the old black and white television in my living room. We thought we looked elegant in our fancy tight skirts.

Linda Pope

When I was growing up I was the quirky kid with a large group of eclectic friends. Stacy was interested in opera, Estelle was head of the chess club, Cindy and I used to rush home after school and dance to American Bandstand, Kenny had the largest selection of mohair sweaters, Bucky Butkowitz was the tennis player who liked to swat girls with his racquet, Maureen (Mo) used to love telling tall tales filled with her exploits which I found very exciting, Carol liked boys and stamp collecting, Renee wanted to be a short story writer, and William brushed color on his eyelids.  One day after school I decided to go to the Folk Music Club. I was drawn to the scrawny man fingerpicking on his guitar, a washboard at his side. I sat close to him, enthralled with this music, feeling "hip" before the word was even invented. After his short performance I waited to talk to him. He took my hand and thanked me for coming and for enjoying his music. I was a freshman in high school.  A year later his first record album catapulted to resounding success. I have every album Jim Kweskin ever made.

Liz Burns

When I was growing up I didn't really want to grow up. Sometimes I thought I already was grown up, so why should I do anymore growing up? I felt like I was already old; I felt like I was born old.

When I was growing up I used to check to see how fast I was growing by how much of my face appeared in the bathroom mirror over the sink.

Martha Blue Waters

When I was growing up there was a great celebration every year when harvest time came around. The wheat stood way taller than I did, the combines were lined up like military tanks. Mom got busy in the kitchen to make food to feed all the field hands. My sister and I played in the growing piles of thrashed wheat that sat like ancient pyramids by the barn. And at some point I would climb to the top of the windmill to try to get some good air. It wasn't easy living in Kansas and being allergic to wheat.

When I was growing up I stole a pair of my brother's underpants because that weird fly hole in them made a perfect, easy place to hide my pocket knife. Or a pack of gum. Or a couple of cookies. Being forced to wear a dress to school meant I didn't have any pockets to put anything in. So this underwear thing seemed like a perfect solution — except for the times something would slip out and fall to the ground.

Mary Hohlman

When I was growing up, one of my favorite dishes to eat out of was a big blue bowl. The inside was a shiny robin egg blue and the bottom was white porcelain with a tiny red signature I was never able to read. Many nights I had to make myself food and my favorite was warm milk, white rice with a little sugar and butter. I'd eat the cereal, loving the mix of white, yellow, and robin blue. It soothed me all those days my parents would fight well into the night. The food and my bowl comforted me like an old friend.  

When I was growing up my grandmother would always read to me on the big brown couch. I'd curl up next to her and feel the softness of her white shirt. She smelled of her favorite lotion, Chantilly, and a faded scent of cigarettes. She'd read to me in a most animated way and her voice was always calm and loving. I'd glance up at her face and watch her mouth move with her straight and very white dentures. My favorite story was Jack and the Beanstalk. She'd always skip the part where the giant was yelling, so I wouldn't be scared. I miss my grandma.

Maude Rith

When I was growing up we had a big tree in the backyard. One day my father put up a swing. He climbed the ladder and tied the knots as I watched. He tested the seat, adjusted, twisted. We lined up. We pushed each other, then learned to swing by ourselves. We’d pump so high the swing yanked us on the backward sway. We loved it, we lost ourselves on it, craved only our own motion until we got the idea to jump, pumping higher and higher, leaning forward to leap into the air as high as we dared. 

Mike Schaff

When I was growing up I walked across the Tappen Zee Bridge the day before it opened to cars.

Miriam Frischer

When I was growing up I lived in a country that was proud of its new independence and its pioneering spirit. We called our teacher by her first name; we learned to make marmalade in school because oranges were Israel’s leading crop. We read biblical stories in order to learn Hebrew, not to honor religion. We sang  songs exalting national pride in the guttural sounds of modern Hebrew. We were all sabras, when I was growing up — sweet on the inside and prickly on the outside.

When I was growing up I took the subway with my friends to Greenwich Village. We saw people dressed in black, only years older than us. At the Fred Leighton store you could watch them make beatnik shoes. The 8th Street jewelry stores displayed dangling earrings. We drank Orange Juliuses because it was cool. I saw The 400 Blows when I was 15, read the subtitles and understood a few of the words. We fantasized living in an apartment on Waverly or Perry. We passed cafes that advertised folk music at night. It was all ahead of us then.

Nancy Gabriel

When I was growing up my mom could braid my hair really tightly into two pigtails and they would stay neat through all five days of school without needing to be done over.

When I was growing up I could recite my phone number before I was in kindergarten and you had to say a word and then four numbers. When you wrote it, it was the first two letters of the word and then the 5 digits.

When I was growing up my father would take one day off from work each year to take us to the Bronx Zoo (he didn't like the weekend crowds) and my mother dressed me in white lace socks and a dress and a brass-buttoned coat and bowler hat and white gloves.

Nancy Osborn

When I was growing up we had a blackboard in our kitchen and every morning we would discover little messages left for us, by a leprechaun — my father claimed — not by him.

When I was growing up we lived in the country, far from any town that had a movie theater, so I only saw two or three movies during my entire childhood. I always wanted to live in a town with sidewalks. 

When I was growing up my siblings and I wanted to buy a burro, which we were certain we could order from the Sears catalog. 

When I was growing up I wanted to write mysteries like the Nancy Drew mysteries, but all I ever managed to do was to come up with a list of absolutely marvelously evocative titles, or at least I thought they were.

Paula Culver

When I was growing up I didn't know I was growing up. Am I grown up now? Sometimes my sister and I ask how it came to be that we're not the ones sitting at the card table anymore like we used to, at big family gatherings. 

When I was growing up summers were all 4-leaf clovers, Bain de Soleil, riding bikes up and down our small-town road with just enough hill to really get our hair whipping in the wind.

When I was growing up I leapt into the outside world where I could move and breathe.

Persis Vehar

When I was growing up I was deathly afraid of the dog next door. One day the inevitable happened. The dog chased me and caught me around my leg with his ferocious mouth. Lo and behold, he was toothless.

When I was growing up I was the youngest in a large family so I got all the hand-me-downs. There was the large 2-wheeled bike that I taught myself to ride. Unfortunately one day I rode it right into a tree. It wasn't that it was too big for me, but I had neglected to learn one important thing — how to use the brakes.

Randy Ehrenberg

When I was growing up boys were treated differently than girls, at least in my home. For example, my brother's sexual exploits were often the topic of discussion at dinner time. I, on the other hand, was supposed to be the innocent and pure little daughter and sister.

Rob Sullivan

When I was growing up most of my peers had already grown. I was a late bloomer from earliest recollection, on the left side of that bell-shaped curve.

Sharon K. Yntema

When I was growing up I thought I'd end up being a giant, since I towered over all my classmates, male and female.

When I was growing up I thought snow was a most magical mythical substance, and cardinals (usually pictured in the snow) were the most beautiful birds.

When I was growing up I thought butterflies would turn back into caterpillars if you buried them after they died, and I thought snacks grew on trees (genips, tamarinds, mangos, bananas).

Shirley Elliot

When I was growing up I wore pigtails everyday, collected autographed photographs of movie stars, and played in the backyard playhouse my dad built for me and my friends.

When I was growing up I was always the shortest girl in the class.

Stacey Murphy

When I was growing up I had a "Growing Up Skipper" doll. She was Barbie's younger sister. Her arm rotated 360 degrees, like a crank. When you turned it, she grew an inch taller and developed breasts. Sometimes I wonder, if that's all there was to growing up, would my life have been easier?

Sue Norvell

When I was growing up I wanted to be a dancer. I would practice ballet positions in front of a mirror. I collected paper dolls of prima ballerinas. I had one of Maria Tallchief and was fascinated that she was both a dancer and an Indian. We said Indian then, not Native American, when I was growing up.

When I was growing up, and very young, I was often sick — asthma, bronchitis — whatever. My mother would teach me odd bits and pieces while she was washing the dishes. I learned to count to 10 in French, German, and Latin. She knew Hebrew also, but we never got to that. I started reading by myself, and she brought me books from the library. I remember reading a book about the life of ants, when I was growing up.

Tina Wright

When I was growing up there wasn't room in Moravia Elementary for all the baby boomer children. In 5th grade I was in a classroom at the Episcopal Church — a new addition. There was a big solid curtain between our class (Mr. Hall's) and the 6th grade class on the other side, Mrs. Horn's. We all had to be quieter than usual with just that curtain there.

When I was growing up Moravia had an old bowling alley with "pin boys" who placed bowling pins in their place. My dad was on the G. L. F. team (the farm store before Agway) and I remember the smell of starch when Mom ironed his white bowling shirt with the G. L. F. logo on it.

Yvonne Fisher

When I was growing up I lived in a small apartment in Flushing, Queens. I shared a bedroom with my brother for many years. The linoleum floor of our room pictured nursery rhyme characters like Little Jack Horner and Little Miss Muffet, sitting on her tuffet. I always wondered what curds and whey were. My parents didn't know, they were from Europe, English wasn't their first language. I never thought to look it up. Of course, there was no Google back then, no computers. But I did have the Encyclopedia Britannica. 

Zee Zahava

When I was growing up I spoke in a fake English accent. My mother told me to stop it but I didn't. In my ongoing fantasy I was Cathy, Patty's English cousin on The Patty Duke Show. This went on for a long time. My cousins, especially, did not appreciate the way I talked.

When I was growing up there was a woman who lived in our apartment building, her hair was cut short like a man's, she wore Oxford shirts tucked into trousers, and sturdy shoes. My mother, who wore high-heeled pumps, called them Sensible Shoes, which was not a compliment. No one ever spoke to this woman. No one said Good Morning or asked How You Doing? But after she walked by there was always sniggering. 1950s. How brave she was. We lived in the same building for years. I don't think anyone even knew her name.

Unraveling, by Jackie Andrews

yesterday pulling a loose thread

in my mind

the unraveling began

it is not the first time

which means

living with the unravel 

until i find my needle

sewing myself whole again