Photo Credit: MorgueFiles
Sydney Opera House
I find that I am often late to the bar.
Too late for Mr. Linky, to late to join in the fray.
Last week I read the most wonderful of sentences,
it was a quote, by Jacqueline Kennedy.
She spoke of being odd man out wherever she went.
She was the oddball, never really accepted.
Her words thrilled me. I read them over and pondered.
She was just like me; I knew exactly how she felt.
So will you think it odd of me to share a life lived long ago?
And remember … this is Claudia’s doing.
Not to beleaguer the point but Claudia has written a marvelous poem of Paris
within which I reminisced.
I love Paris. In this lifetime I have been there twice.
But that first visit, its poignancy was just too much.
For so long I had longed to go back.
That longing coming from another lifetime lived so long ago.
I am particularly partial to the early twentieth century.
I can recall so many friends from that time. It is so real that it is like yesterday.
I have so many feelings that come to me when I think about my life during that time.
It is so real.
I wanted to sit next to Hemingway at the bar in the Ritz as we had done so long ago.
I couldn’t wait to meet up again with so many old friends. I would visit Sylvia Beach at Shakespeare and Company.
You do know don’t you that she sold nothing but books printed in English. However her great love,
Adrienne Monnier sold books printed only in French.
They were such a team. I loved visiting them.
Sylvia always invited me in for tea, this meant meeting new and exciting authors. I met Joyce. What a strange duck.
My library is currently filled with the biographies and autobiographies of those friends. I have always kept them around me.
Nathalie Clifford Barney threw the wildest of parties. Romaine in the background quiet, Gertrude and Alice the center of attention.
It bothered me, the rift between Hemingway and Gertrude for they had been such very good friends.
But here I go reminiscing again. Thinking about lives past, missing old friends.
On our first trip to Paris in ninety-four David said to me: “I expect you to remember places that you visited in the 20’s.
You know, I did not remember a thing. There was not even a sense of familiarity. It was really disappointing.
Now Claudia has reared her head again with a wonderful prompt for the New Year.
What better a prompt than change?
My change for the New Year will be to commit myself to a project.
I need to do something with my mother’s WWII scrapbooks.
I will place each photo and each piece of paper into an archival sleeve
and I will catalogue all that is contained there in.
I will not however give up poetry. It is too close to my soul.
And yes, I will write more memoire. I will write.
Though this is not a change, I will express much gratitude for the life that I live.
So saying; Happy New Year to all, Happy Changes. You will do it, I know. It will be splendid.
You will find us over at dVerse Poetry Pub in Changes and Turns