What All Schoolchildren Learn

“I and the public know

What all schoolchildren learn,

Those to whom evil is done

Do evil in return.”

--- W.H. Auden, “September 1, 1939”

*

His mother thought her young son

Might be autistic. At age 11,

When he was in the fifth grade, his

IQ was 167.

She must have hoped his intellectual

Gifts would bring him notoriety.

However, he profoundly lacked any

Skills of the social variety.

*

He went off to college at 16. He

Didn’t fit in: how could he?

He had absolutely no idea that

From early on he would be

Subjected to severe psychological

Tests and was unaware

How wrong it was to have these done

While strapped in a chair.

Connected to electrodes attached to

Machines on a shelf,

This project brutalized his already

Fragile sense of self.

He must’ve assumed this was appropriate

Also done to his peers.

Incredibly, this awful treatment continued

On for several years.

*

His spree started in ’78, lasted a decade:

The press went gaga

Over this sinister & mysterious package

Bomb mayhem saga.

It’s odd that he didn’t pursue the man

Who’d destroyed his composure.

Going after him for what he had done

Could have brought some closure.

*

This benignly named “personality study”

Which transformed this unbalanced teen

Into a psychopath took place at Harvard:

The best word for this is … obscene.

Sponsored by the CIA, Dr. Henry Murray

Was in charge & knew how to dodge

Questions about his curious tests with a

Necessary amount of camouflage.

Ted Kaczynski a.k.a. The Unabomber should’ve

Stayed in prison --- I know the gravity

Of what he did but Murray (now dead) should

Have gone on trial for his depravity.

Murray’s research was responsible for the likes

Of damaged Kaczynski to act out ---

When you next see redacted secret files, this is

The kind of stuff that gets blacked out.

William Miller

We know Charles Ponzi struck it rich

And made more than plenty

Of hustled money back in the day ---

This peaked around 1920.

But two decades earlier, this other guy

Was making all of these killer

Profits which later would inspire Ponzi:

His name was William F. Miller.

Miller had big plans, however, along the way,

He seems to have had perhaps a little bit

Of doubts about using his name, so he grandly

Called his office the “Franklin Syndicate.”

A 520 percent rate of return? That’s the

Promise which he used to bedevil

Potential suckers too excited to suspect

That this claim wasn’t on the level.

Based in Brooklyn, Miller very soon

Conned countless schmucks

And defrauded many investors out

Of around a million bucks.

Miller went to jail for ten years --- no

Longer did customers file in

To his office. He later wound up with

A new gig out on Long Island

Where I’d bet he often and politely

Said, “Yes Ma’am, no Sir”

As he adjusted to his career change

Of being a full-time grocer.

Reporters asked Miller about Ponzi ---

Miller said he had to wonder

How he made so much money. Shortly

Thereafter, Ponzi went under.

What The Tennis Legend Said

 

Ken Rosewall was playing at a tournament at UCLA.

He sat in the stands during a break. I headed his way

To ask him about his backhand. I hoped he’d hold court

And reveal the secret of his shot --- the best in the sport.

Rosewall kindly went into great detail --- I happily thrived

On each remark he made until his next opponent arrived.

*

I didn’t ever wind up competing in a professional tennis event:

At twelve, I had managed never to hear an Australian accent.

In this chat, I was so focused but that dialect was formidable:

I hung on every word without understanding a single syllable.

I learned about language then, not tennis. To be candid, one

Should also add that this assessment isn’t a backhanded one.

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Pandemic Postcards (Vol. 2)

Yeah, We All Now Have Bigger Fish To Fry

This took place in a very crowded Ralphs parking lot
With a rather alarming amount of haste.
An old white guy's BMW was an awful shade of blue
Suggesting he had more money than taste.

Three young Asian guys got in their crappy Smart Car
Right beside it and before
They knew what happened, they dented the Beemer
On opening up their door.

The old white guy glared, the kids panicked, this could
Escalate into a nasty buffet of f-yous
But the old white guy shrugged and said "No worries"
A line he borrowed from his nephews.

Posting This Today Because It's His Birthday

The Main Reason I’d Like To Get A Time Machine

I want to go to Neptune, New Jersey around
1944. A young boy planned to participate in
His grammar school’s variety show. The song

He chose was “Managua Nicaragua.” Freddie
Martin’s orchestra recorded the first version
Of this and it went all the way to number one

On the Billboard pop charts. The boy belted this
Out while wearing a red and gold paper crepe
Cape and he had a bellboy’s sort of monkey hat

On, too. Forty some-odd years later, he grinned
During an interview and recalled, “It was rather
Flamboyant, I would say, for a seven-year-old.”

*

Why am I so eager to travel back in time to see
This? After all, the boy didn’t go on to have a
Career as a singer. However, he did become

An actor, the best of his generation. My God,
What a thrill it would be to see the cheeky first
Performance by Jack Nicholson.

Disorders & Deities

My autistic son who often
Is at a loss himself
Pasued while taking a bath
And seemed to cross himelf

Did I misinterpret that
Hand gesture a smidgen
Or has Jeremy somehow found
A way to get religion?

His access to godlike things
Would have certain gaps.
My wife and I don’t attend services
And are devoutly lapsed.

But maybe some bit of belief
Sang to Jeremy like wishes
Perhaps the prestidigitation
Of those loaves into fishes.

The sight of an actual crucifix
Might be a bit too real for him
He doesn’t drink wine but communion
Wafers might appeal to him.

Maybe this is something I imagined
Maybe it’s a serious phase
Or just proof that autism and the Lord
Work in mysterious ways.

Thoughts Years Ago After Seeing Clive James On TV

Some turn to God and a church to join ---
Others worship Chance, the flip of a coin.

Religion and gambling? The breaking news
Is how each one has their own set of pews.

One trusts that life is just how He planned it,
The other has faith in the one-armed bandit.

Where does your spare change go of late:
In a slot machine or on a collection plate?

November 22, 1963

Bulletin

Is dead. Is dead. How all

The radios sound the same.
That static is our seed.
Is dead. We heard. Again.

We peck at the words like bran
Strung on a string of air.
Is dead. Again. Is dead.
Too rhythmic for despair.

Our faces are all the same,
Learning to taste the word.
Lockjawed with awkwardness.
Is dead. We know. We heard.

--- Chana Faerstein

*

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chana_Bloch

What A Long, Strange Trip It's Been (1941-2019)

I’m sure many people later on
Were so jealous he
In 1962 at Stanford was given
Free doses of LSD.

This guy’s sugar cube sugar daddy
I need right here to say
Was this research project that was
Sponsored by the CIA.

Did volunteering in this program
Ruin him? Make him stressful?
Hard to say but his solo attempt
At singing was unsuccessful.

Did he wind up a Sixties casualty and
Fall tragically by the wayside?
A forgotten musical B-side who never
Managed to have an A-side?

Actually, his songwriting took off:
He became a true sensation
As many of the songs he penned
Helped defined his generation.

I know that you know some of them
(This is all on the level)
Like “Uncle John’s Band,” “Truckin’”
And “Friend of the Devil.”

The CIA made him psychedelic. I know
They have conflicted loyalties
But are they maybe entitled to some of
His songwriting royalties?

That’s for others to debate and decide
And all that now needs to be said
About Robert Hunter, the main writer
Of lyrics for The Grateful Dead.

A Cure For Autism

It may sound a bit absurd
This info that you’ve never heard
All comes down to just one word:
Acceptance.

For this child, you had dreamed
In your eyes, his future gleamed
Who cares if he’s not mainstreamed?
Acceptance.

Embrace each and every shortcoming
Even with repetition numbing
Even if he wreaks havoc with your plumbing
Acceptance.

Be a bright light full of praise
Especially on the darkest days
Despite knowing it’s not just a phase
Acceptance.

If you can’t acknowledge his worth
You’re just taking up space on earth
Have you been without flaws since birth?
Acceptance.

Be his loud and biggest supporter
Be the pestle to his mortar
Don’t give his doubters any quarter
Acceptance.

Don’t hide the fact of his condition
Speaking up is your major mission
Make it a new family tradition
Acceptance.

Your patience daily you learn to ration
Some days your chips you want to cash in
Remember these kids teach us compassion
Acceptance.

Write the future not in ink but chalk
At science breakthroughs do not balk
But until we find our Jonas Salk
Acceptance.

Swimming with dolphins is a lure
Or some soy-based diet, sure,
Do your best but don’t obscure
Acceptance now is the only cure.

 

The Cutoff Point

 

While he was asleep, Lorena Bobbitt

Sliced off her husband’s penis, went

For a drive and then tossed it out the

Window like it was a flyer that she’d

Found under her windshield wiper

For teeth whitening or rug cleaning.

In court, Lorena claimed John Wayne

Bobbitt persistently denied her any

Orgasms. I’d hoped the fallout would

Be husbands with unsatisfied wives

Would overnight become the most

Attentive lovers. No such luck.

*

“The MacNeil/Lehrer NewsHour” was on

Then. I sensed that Robert MacNeil hated

This story and desperately wanted no part

Of it. But the following year, 1993, when

The verdict in this case was finally going

To be announced, MacNeil had to mention

This because the Bobbits had found a way

To become legitimately newsworthy. He

Did the wrap-up on world events and then

Brought up the end of this controversial

Trial. I wondered exactly how he would

Convey the various sordid details. The wall

Behind MacNeil now was suddenly like this

Enormous dam with multiple visible cracks

And water beginning to leak out. Still, he

Single-handedly attempted to keep it in

Place and prevent the coarsening of the

Culture and harm to all things decent and 


Proper. “Lorena Bobbitt was found not
Guilty of ‘malicious wounding’ against

Her husband for severing his … payniss.”

MacNeil elected to mispronounce the

Offending word to make it seem genteel.

But the dam broke anyway as cable TV

And talk radio and O.J and Fox News and

The internet would soon wash away all of

The decorum that PBS and their flagship

News show had fondly cherished. Looking

Back, it was inevitable but I now can see

MacNeil bravely attempting to stop the tide

Like some Canuck King Canute and despite

All of my mockery back then, I now salute

Him for giving it the old college try.

 

Sneaky Devil (Part Two)

      
“Your teacher said you misbehaved we
Read in your notebook today.”
Jeremy nodded that this was indeed true
And he knew it wasn’t okay.

Regarding how he’d acted in school, we
Didn’t want to excessively nag.
(The notebook in question, by the way,
Was put everyday in his bag.)

We explained that if this behavior kept up
Certain things would be forbidden.
The next day as we got him ready for school,
Jeremy’s notebook had been hidden.

He knew that if this notebook was around
It was going to inhibit a
Way for him to have any fun at school, so
He got rid of Exhibit A.

 

Anger Mismanagement

                                                                                        
The walk from the car to our house
Should have been a piece of cake
But there were many times when this
Was a treacherous journey to make.

Jeremy, now 12, let his body go limp

For reasons he wasn’t telling.
I carried him, he dragged his feet and
The whole time he was yelling.

He just would not cooperate --- both of

His knees were buckling.
Three guys in their twenties walked by
All of them loudly chuckling.

Instead of just resorting to my

Getting really quiet act
I completely lost my temper and
Read these guys the riot act.

“Do you think this is funny? Yeah,

Autism’s just a crack up!”
(People several blocks away could
Hear I had my back up.)

“I’m not bothering you! Some days with
My son knock me to the floor!

Unless you three have other plans, do
You mind if I walk to my door?”

They mumbled and looked sheepish as

They skulked away from my yard.
My final punctuation was slamming my
Front door especially hard.

My wife was out, so I called Josh because

I knew he would care
That I’d stood up forcefully for Special Ed
Families everywhere.

“Did these guys point at Jeremy?” Josh
Asked somewhat abstractly.
I thought this over and replied, “Well,
The truth is … not exactly.”

“Did they call him some kind of name?”

My resolve was not so steely.
“Now that you put it that way … I would
Have to say … not really.”

Josh then concluded, “My thoughts on this

Are not entirely complete
But it sounds like for no reason you screamed
At three guys on the street.”

I’d seen this kind of dance from Josh and
I’d heard this kind of song
Which is why I felt so confident that he
Was totally … right.

*

 

If you lived near Melrose Avenue

Around 1993
And someone had a hissy fit who
Looks like me

This may seem rather long ago

To you like archeology
But if I yelled at you, please accept
My most belated apology.

The Day I Met Ricky Jay

Around 1980, I was at a friend’s house
(I was around 26)
And Ricky was amazing all of us with
His incredible tricks.

During a lull, I picked up his deck and
Gave it a good perusing
As I was curious as to just what kind
Of cards Jay was using.

Loud gasps. I instantly realized that I had
Done something horribly improper
Like doodling on the original painting of
“Nighthawks” by Edward Hopper.

He looked me in the eye, sighed and said,
“Tony, with regards
To magicians, you should never put your
Hands on their cards.

It takes months --- many, actually --- for us
To know each and every one
Which is why anybody touching them is a
Thing that should not be done.”

Jay paused and sensed he got through to me
And that his lesson would stick.
He smiled that wonderful smile and launched
Into another stunning trick.

Jay could have understandably ripped me a
New one and read me the riot act
But didn’t and handled my ghastly faux pas
With both ease and quiet tact.

I’m writing this on just hearing about his death:
In his sweet memory, I offer a cheer
To recall how his kindness and magic skills once
Made my embarrassment disappear.

 

55 Years Later

One day in a Pasadena bookstore, I accidentally

found Of Poetry and Power.

It came out in 1964 and features many of the best

poets in America pondering JFK’s death, including

Robert Frost, John Berryman and W.H. Auden.

“Bulletin” (just twelve lines) is my favorite poem

from this collection.

Here’s a Wikipedia link to the poet who died in

2017 and was only 23 when she wrote it.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chana_Bloch

Bulletin

by Chana Faerstein

Is dead. Is dead. How all

The radios sound the same.
That static is our seed.
Is dead. We heard. Again.

We peck at the words like bran

Strung on a string of air.
Is dead. Again. Is dead.
Too rhythmic for despair.

Our faces are all the same,

Learning to taste the word.
Lockjawed with awkwardness.
Is Dead. We know. We heard.

 

 

Of Republicans and Drunks

Bush Sr. thought his old pal
Was surely going to shine
As his Defense Secretary 
Way back in 1989.

But John Tower’s virtues Democrats
Were unable to extol
Because his alcoholism then was so
Clearly out of control.

However, the Texan senator changed
His way of thinking
And promised that if he got the gig
He would quit drinking.

One reason I love Republicans
Is 47 of them did agree
That a life-long boozer should
Be head of the DOD.

Tower didn’t get enough votes:
Those charges seemed to stick.
Unfortunately, the guy who did
Was that Cheney fellow, Dick.

Looking back on this years later
Will put Democrats in a funk ---
We’d all be much better off now
If they’d just supported that drunk.

 

Ken Calvert

A woman named Denise follows me on Twitter.
She lives in California and recently posted her
hope that this Republican is voted out of office.
His name was familiar. After hunting around in
the semi-vast Peyser Poetry Archives, I found
something I wrote about him a while back.

*

Ken Calvert

Once in a car in his California district
A hooker had her head in Calvert’s lap.
He told a cop they were “just talking.”
(I would’ve said she was taking a nap.)

That same year, 1993, he was divorced
And accused of alimony he did not pay
And right at that particular point in time
Calvert had this amazing thing to say.

He noted all of these specific events then
That had been happening to him lately
Had “helped him become a better person”
And also enabled him “to mature greatly.”

Frequenting hookers & not paying alimony
I bet most sensible people would be loath
To regard as reliable paths to take when
One becomes focused on personal growth.

This sundae isn’t really in need of a cherry
But there is one that I would like to place:
From the House floor, he criticized Clinton
For his affair with Monica Whatsherface.

Julia Child

The famous chef was born in 1912 &
Arrived in the world’s arena
In a wealthy family. (No one called it
The mean streets of Pasadena.)

One looks back now & can easily say,
“Julia, very soon you’re
Going to be in the big leagues but now
Enjoy one that’s Junior.”

With Pasadena’s Junior League, the
Fundamental fact is
She worked on plays for children as
A writer & an actress.

The Junior League’s loss was our gain:
She was later keen for us to believe
In French cooking even if we couldn’t
Define or pronounce joie de vivre.

Because Julia was so unpretentious, she
Made culinary tips approachable
And even when recipes were complicated
She prevailed by being sociable.

Dashing about the kitchen, she had the energy
Of not one person but a dozen. It’s
Chaotic but fun, she was always larger than life:
Think Big Bird but with oven mitts.

 

Teaching Philip Larkin To Dance

This fell to Maeve Brennan, a fellow librarian
Whose life was arguably a bit dull
Until she later became one of the three women
Involved with the Don Juan of Hull.

At Oxford, Larkin loved jazz but didn’t dance
And back then had the view
That dancing --- without any question --- was
Something very difficult to do.

He even consulted dance instruction books
But concluded concretely
That black feet, white feet and dotted lines
Just baffled him completely.

One imagines Maeve wasn’t merely hoping
He would be ooh-ing and aah-ing
At her expert instruction in both the waltz
And all manner of cha-cha-cha-ing.

I guess her secret mission was to make Larkin
Not see it as a possible hex
To have physical contact with a woman that
Wasn’t actually part of sex.

Intimacy was something he grew up without
So it’s pretty easy to understand
That regarding aspects of love & romance, he
Was a stranger in a strange land.

Some of her lessons must’ve sunk in but I bet
His mind drifted off to mopeds
Being driven by young & flirtatious girls who
Were Hull undergraduate coeds.

 

Jonathan Gold (1960-2018)

  
The achievement that still remains
A bit hard to believe
Is Gold’s being chosen as the first
Food critic to receive

A Pulitzer Prize but what’s even more
Worthy to yell & shout about
Are the City Of Angels restaurants that
He decided to write about.

Unlike his L.A. Times predecessors who
On a rather regular basis
Reviewed upscale restaurants, he was
Drawn to out of the way places.

The various and exotic ethnic dives that
Jonathan often sought
As a rule always tended to reflect Southern
California’s melting pot.

Gold inspired so many locals to be daring &
After an awfully long freeway trip crawl
Across surface streets to find some amazing
Vietnamese place in a crappy strip mall.

He changed the way that millions eat &
Embraced this as his duty
Yet somehow did this without sounding
Like an obnoxious foodie.