I’ve Always Loved Summer Best, or August

When I was born
to celebrate
my father actually bought
a duplex beach house with his
college roommate Solly Stein
in Woodmont, Connecticut
on the Jewish beach
rocky Long Island sound
Italians next door
their beach was sand we
weren’t a beachy family
my mother did have sun dresses
library books big straw hat
my father went into the water
every single night after work
breast stroke and crawl
my brother was the only one
who got a real dark tan
I was happier there than anywhere
best friend Abby Glazer
few doors down we would wander
in a way i hadn’t wandered before
didn’t need much she
was a very good swimmer
I was OK not great
I would carry
a little notebook
make up stories
about her swimming
about our neighbor
Joanie Mendleson I would
find husbands for Joanie
in so many stories. At night
I’d sit on the sea wall
in front of our house
and know Tomorrow I could
do it all again.

Esther Cohen
Let me tell you why I'm here, and why I hope you'll join me. I am here to poem, to play with words, to tell stories when I can, and to ask you for yours. Words are what I love, how I see, and what I say. Words are how I know my life, and how I find my friends. I'm here to ask you to join me. Right here. To send me your stories, and your poems. And to read mine when you can.

7 Comments

  1. Sleeping upstairs looking at the water.
    Your birthdays.
    How odd that there would be a Jewish enclave there.Like the baltic sea of their parents and grand/great/great great grandparents

  2. How can I not love this poem? How can I not love that part of our past? Plus there are fond memories of working on GAB, the magazine we put together and sold to our parents; you did the writing (because you were always and forever a writer) and I did the visuals (my road to the visual arts was a bit more meandering).

  3. Hi, Esther–great poem about Summer! I’ll read it tonight to my poetry reading group. Thank you. –All the best, Leslie Brennan

  4. i have very fond memories of those lovely days. the sweet smell in the yard of honeysuckle . charsely mendlestein, uncle miltie, savin rock. so very long ago, like a dream, like yesterday. xo sam.

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