Thursday, October 4, 2018

for THAT GIRL




2015, where we met "The Nutella Guy" who ate that Nutella straight out of the jar with the serving spoon:


2018, shared experiences:








2018, her personal experiences:



and she thought of all those who ever lived there:


and in 1965, I stood at that spot and had my own hopes and dreams:






And her memories: 
This is the corner where she stopped to catch her breath after seeing Carousel on her last night in NYC (she stood against that glass window under the green marquee).

This is the Walgreens where she stopped to buy an umbrella before meeting me at the Apple Store (the sky was blue and clear... the rain caught her by surprise).


This is just down the street (you can see the Walgreens there). When she stepped out of the store, it was pouring down rain and she had to make a run for it (literally) to this subway station. She took the C train to meet me. 


This was her stop. The Apple Store was a short walk from there.


These are the cross streets she walked by to make her way to the Apple Store. She looked around and saw it there on the corner.


And of course, this is where we saw the customer we called "ass crack guy." She laughs every time she remembers. So do I. 


Sunday, September 30, 2018

Friday, September 28, 2018

Friday, September 14, 2018

Monday, September 10, 2018

A Lost Letter

In 1996, this letter was found in a suitcase filled with old letters after the woman who received the letter passed away.
The son of the writer did not want the letters and his instructions were that they should all be discarded. I was a dear friend of the woman to whom the letter was written and it was given to me as a gift so I could remember a piece of her.
I post it here now because the anguish of this husband on one day back in 1953 should not be lost with time. It is a reminder that those who lived and who are now gone had lives filled with experiences and emotions... and the sadness is that everything passes.
Life is elusive.


 


Thursday, August 16, 2018

WHAT WAY TO GO TODAY


Here's my poem that won Rick Dale's Beat Poetry Contest on December 3, 2009.

WHAT WAY TO GO TODAY

Almost dusk:
Last summer on one Wednesday, in July,
I sat on a bench, a grey wooden tired
Bench on a boardwalk out at old Long Beach.
In the sky a lonely and lost grey kittiwake tipped
As the hot pink sun set in blazing technicolor over
Hot pinkish sand and the fading blue ocean water.

That morning:
I had thought about seeing great art...
Vermeer, or Courbet, or maybe Monet.
But, I drove to the beach instead to think
To think about everything creative that had been
Created before I got here, and when I was here,
And what will be created when I leave this place.
When one day I leave my place and all places in my
Consciousness that is now in this time and was
At a past time and will be in some next time;
Maybe all time exists at the same time.
The great minds of theoretical physicists search
For the "Theory of Everything" as they sit
In their cluttered rooms, their great thinking rooms.
In universities, they ponder the mathematical equations
And Schrodinger's cat and all those mysteries.

In the evening:
It is during the quiet and still and sad night when
I miss most the people I never met:
Edie Beale, and the Rat Pack, and even Rod Serling
Who made me want to time travel: to go back to simpler places
Like Nedick's, or the Belmore, or Bickford's, and Willoughby.
Then the longing, a longing when distant sounds and faraway
Foghorns drive thoughts to reflect on a life visible through some
Smoky cracked mirror, a haunted and haunting steamy mirror.
As I am sort of old now and getting older
There is a vague and odd feeling that I,
Like the kittiwake, somehow must have lost the way.

© Marjorie Levine 2009

Friday, August 3, 2018

at the MET MUSEUM

African American Portraits: Photographs from the 1940s and 1950s