The Umbrella -
Andrew Nagen - 09/04/1950 - 08/26/2005

We have said good-bye to our dear friend, Andrew.
He gave Robert the drawing, The Umbrella - shown here -
Robert felt it spoke to him at the exhibit at artspace - he felt that it was his role, he was the Umbrella. We have had the drawing for a few weeks - here is the
photo I took of it.

We loved him and he loved us.
G-dspeed.



i am a warrior
i am not at war
i am seeking peace.
i work for peace.
peace for us all.
peace for myself.
my struggles are your struggles.
my success is yours also.

i am a warrior.
the opponent is unseen.
i am a warrior.
the victory is not celebrated,
but felt.
the battles are bloodless
and brutal.
i am a warrior.
honor is my currency
and merchandise.

you are a warrior too.
your work is defined.
you proceed each day
until the sun drains you
and the moon cools you.
we all work together
as the best warriors do.
there is no war,
there is only living.
suit up!
time is passing. Andrew Nagen

MY NAME

One night when the lawn was a golden green
and the marbled moonlit trees rose like fresh memorials
in the scented air, and the whole countryside pulsed
with the chirr and murmur of insects, I lay in the grass
feeling the great distances open above me, and wondered
what I would become-and where I would find myself-
and though I barely existed, I felt for an instant
that the vast star-clustered sky was mine, and I heard
my name as if for the first time, heard it the way
one hears the wind or the rain, but faint and far off
as though it belonged not to me but to the silence
from which it had come and to which it would go.

--Mark Strand


This is one of many datura in bloom at my home - Photos cannot
capture the beauty of these huge, pale lavender blossoms, such as
Georgia O'Keeffe painted. I understand now why she was so taken with them.

Redfish, Bluefish



That was the name of a restaurant on Captiva Island, Florida
which I passed by last week while we were vacationing in Sanibel
with Ana, Jody and Noah - We had a wonderful, relaxing break,
swimming in the languid waters of the Gulf of Mexico and playing
with our grandson. I'll be posting some photos from the trip when
I get the chance.

We left in the height of summer and came home to autumn - cool,
cloudy mornings and that subtle change in the light that signals
the end of relentless heat and the beginning of the slide toward
fall. I saw the nearly-full moon setting this morning, and was
reminded that the next new moon is likely Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish
New Year.

For a long time now, every Rosh Hashanah we would go to
Andrew Nagen's pond, to "cast our bread upon the waters."
Andrew would tool out there
in his motorized wheelchair,
and Robert would read from the prayer
book, while we crumbled crackers and bread
into the pond for the fabulous koi
to gobble up. Always, it would be a gorgeous day -
and there upon the waters,
we cast our sins, regrets, hopes and wishes
for a new year to come.

This year Andrew won't be coming to the pond,
at least not in his wheelchair.
He is in bed, only yards from the shimmering water,
but he can't go out to see the fish, swimming in the
sun under the surface. We have said our
good-byes, tears and laughter - lots of laughter,
especially, over the years we have been friends.
He especially loved to explore Robert's mind
and exchange the jokes and humor that they shared.

We will miss him so much and we pray that the passing
when it comes will be joyful and a true
experience of freedom - the hope of many years of
bread upon the waters -
a celebration of the brilliance of his spirit, released
from the burden of the body.



the end of a day today
front to back, top to bottom
it had everything.

sunrise sunset
trouble and joy
wearing a birthday suit

the doorbell rings
it is nobody somebody
here to deliver a serving of truth.

he hands me a package
it's warm and fragrant
a serving of truth on wry.

i tip him
say thank you
and ask for the recipe.

i am told
it is in my pantry
just add water.

i found it
watered it with tears
laughed and served it
to myself.

Andrew Nagen

Also see posts: i am warrior - remembering andrew nagen
and The Umbrella

Here are some quick shots from our trip to
Florida - Noah is hard to catch these days,
he is running full-out headlong into life.
What infectious joy - sweetness and delight.

THE EDGES OF TIME

It is at the edges
that time thins.
Time which had been
dense and viscous
as amber suspending
intentions like bees
unseizes them. A
humming begins,
apparently coming
from stacks of
put-off things or
just in back. A
racket of claims now,
as time flattens. A
glittering fan of things
competing to happen,
brilliant and urgent
as fish when seas
retreat.

--Kay Ryan

The New Yorker

Here's a Rainbow - for Andy



Here's a rainbow - for Andy

Robert, relaxing

Afternoon thunderstorm - from our porch

Noah enjoyed the Corrales pool this June - so cool!

TREE LIMBS DOWN

the poverty of having everything is not
wanting anything: I trudge down the mall halls

and see nothing wanting which would pick me
up: I stop at a cheap $79 piece of jewelry,

a little necklace dangler, and it has a diamond
chip in it hardly big enough to sparkle, but it

sparkles: a piece of junk, symbolically vast;
imagine, a life with a little sparkle in it, a


little sparkle like wanting something, like
wanting a little piece of shining, maybe the

world's smallest ruby: but if you have everything
the big carats are merely heavy with price and

somebody, maybe, trying to take you over: the dull
game of the comers-on, waiting everywhere like

moray eels poked out of holes: what did Christ
say, sell everything and give to the poor, and

immediacy enters; daily bread is the freshest
kind: dates, even, laid up old in larders, are

they sweet: come off sheets of the golden
desert, knees weak and mouth dry, what would

you think of an oasis, a handful of dates, and
a clear spring breaking out from under some stones:

but suppose bread can't daily be found or no
oasis materializes among the shimmers: lining

the outside of immediacy, alas, is uncertainty:
so the costly part of the crust of morning

bread is not knowing it will be there: it has
been said by others, though few, that nothing

is got for nothing: as I am reconciled I
traipse my dull self down the aisles of

desire and settle for nothing, nothing wanted,
nothing spent, nothing got.

--A.R. Ammons

We've moved -- and it is a long story, so I won't
tell it right now. Tedious, difficult, exhausting,
really not what I thought we'd be doing with
May and June -- but we have let go of so much stuff
and are much more organized, on the other side of
all that.
I'm going to post this photo taken from our front
porch a few days ago. I'll try to be more regular
keeping up with the blog this summer, since there
is so much going on all the time. Let me know if
you like the rainbow....

Geraniums in the afternoon

...as the sun shines through

Jack

How pleasant the yellow butter
melting on white kernels, the meniscus
of red wine that coats the insides of our goblets

where we sit with sturdy friends as old as we are
after shucking the garden’s last Silver Queen
and setting husks and stalks aside for the horses

the last two of our lives, still noble to look upon:
our first foal, now a bossy mare of 28
which calibrates to 84 in people years

and my chestnut gelding, not exactly a youngster
at 22. Every year, the end of summer
lazy and golden, invites grief and regret:

suddenly it’s 1980, winter batters us,
winds strike like cruelty out of Dickens. Somehow
we have seven horses for six stalls. One of them,

a big-nosed roan gelding, calm as a president’s portrait
lives in the rectangle that leads to the stalls. We call it
the motel lobby. Wise old campaigner, he dunks his

hay in the water bucket to soften it, then visits the others
who hang their heads over their Dutch doors. Sometimes
he sprawls out flat to nap in his commodious quarters.

That spring, in the bustle of grooming
and riding and shoeing, I remember I let him go
to a neighbor I thought was a friend, and the following

fall she sold him down the river. I meant to
but never did go looking for him, to buy him back
and now my old guilt is flooding this twilit table

my guilt is ghosting the candles that pale us to skeletons
the ones we must all become in an as yet unspecified order.
Oh Jack, tethered in what rough stall alone

did you remember that one good winter?


Maxine KuminJack and Other New Poems
W. W. Norton & Company

This Is Where We Spent Easter Sunday



Michele, Rob and I took a ride out to El Malpais
National Wildlife Conservation area, near Grants, NM
and hiked around La Ventana and The Narrows along the
el malpais...It was a glorious day!



Cousin Sandy Came To Visit

Long-lost cousin Sandy Freid came to visit us
in New Mexico - driving her 21-ft. motor home
from Philadelphia to the west coast and back...
She is a Lupowitz, related to Robert
and Michele - and she found us by googling
"Lupowitz" - then she actually came to see us for a
few days. We had alot of fun with her. Here she is!

The Big Birthday Bash

We had a wonderful family reunion and a big birthday
bash in Florida for Muriel's 80th - It was a great
opportunity to get (nearly) everyone together and
the party was really a blast. Here's a few out of
the hundreds of photos that were taken over the
weekend -


































Look at this face!

Tony the Pony - an excellent adventure

Tony the Pony went to Georgia - but first he went to
FedEx!



A view of the counter at the Route 66 Diner on Central:

Sound and fury, signifying nothing

William Rivers Pitt blogged the Coronation today -
I am privileged to post this little snip from his
page from yesterday - Please check his InauguralBlog
for more about the event - Happily, he tells us that
a large, young antiwar protest movement was present,
pelting the hearse-like limos with fruit and snowballs.

Wednesday 19 January 2005 @ 06:48
A few minutes ago, I was staring out the window of the apartment where I am squatting here in DC, thanks to the kindness of friends. All of a sudden, the sky above the District erupted in a firestorm of light and thunder that glittered off the windows of the buildings and lit the underside of the low-hanging clouds. It was the fireworks display taking place in front of the White House, marking the opening of the inauguration festivities. Not long after, the Marine One helicopter bumbled across the sky like a pot-bellied bee.

The real fireworks will begin tomorrow. The whole display tonight put me in mind of some lines I once taught to my students, back when I was an English teacher a million years ago.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

Home, home on the range...

Birch trees, blue snow, blue sky...
New year's day on Sandia Peak





Jody took these photos in Colorado --




Xmas 2004 -



Our humble Norfolk Island Pine Chanukah Shrub


Noah on "Tony the Pony" --yelling Yee-Haw!