Educational TV

Educational TV

Our TV is fixed!

Now once again I learn that medicine can lead me through

gauzy montages of every possible happiness, let me

run through fields of hay with my still-handsome and

playful though white-bearded husband,

who will push me on a swing while I lean back

and we both smile smiles wide as a swing seat.

Pencil in hand, so that I can write down the toll-free number,

I learn that pills can let me play chess with

an elementary-school lad of color who will gaze

at me adoringly, chin on fist, while reaching slyly toward

the timer to his right.

I’ll slap playfully at his hand, and we’ll both giggle.

I learn also that if after taking the recommended dosage,

I experience any of the most common side-effects:

Irritable Bowel Syndrome, difficulty breathing, headache,

double vision, frequent urination, trouble hearing,

dizziness, nausea, palpitations, loss of appetite,

or an erection that lasts more than four hours —

or other common side-effects,

including runny nose, sneezing and thoughts of suicide —

I should call my doctor or nine-one-one.

If on the other hand, for any reason I have a moment of

good health and am focusing simply on Buying Local,

I learn that several car dealers right here in Newburgh,

in colorfully checked suits and blonde helpers,

can get me a great deal on a certified pre-owned vehicle

but only until May, so I have to Act Now and Not Delay,

and that our local attorneys, if my car does indeed

lose its tie rods or brakes, will stand by me all the way

and never give up, because: They Don’t Win if I Don’t Win!

I’m writing it all down.

Really, when the TV is fixed, everything is fixed.

What an edication!

The Spin Cycle of Life

The Spin Cycle of Life

 Passing the laundromat, I slow to smell the fragrance

of fabric softener and dryer sheets that infuse the warm, moist air

from the vent pipe protruding from the brick wall. My husband finds it sad:

“That’s the smell of people too poor to own a dryer,” he says.

But it makes me happy: To me, it’s the scent of women

who care enough about their families to shlep overstuffed cloth bags

to the laundromat, either slung over their shoulders or balanced on

a stroller or kid’s wagon, and who later expertly fold the dry clothes,

each item into its own perfect rectangle. You can see them

chatting amiably in Spanish at the long, deep Formica counter

behind the big plate-glass window, recently replaced
after an incident outside involving two men and one woman.

 And it occurs to me while the machines rumble, that I have entered

the Spin Cycle of Life. No more for me the Soak, the Power Wash

or even the Rinse. My world now feels as if it’s in the throes of vertigo.

Round and round we go, staggering and nauseated, with wild ups and downs — more Tilt-a-Whirl than Merry-Go-Round — and I’m approaching that moment where the dizzying days I’ve had, understanding nothing but somehow

getting through them all, are about to jerk to a halt and things

(memory, skills, wit, friends, good health) will, by centrifugal force

or force of habit, continue to stay put for maybe

one moment more and then collapse all at once

and thump in a damp, bumpy clump and jumble of relief, regrets and —

with G-d’s grace — gratitude.

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