Debates (COVID)

(This is not a poem about what happened last night, who said what, or who won.  And this is not a poem about how much we all wish this were finally over)

The summer after we sold our beach house in Woodmont, Connecticut

43 Hillside Avenue a house I loved a place I loved

big and green with porches on two sides right  over a pebbly inlet

of the Long Island Sound  we could see water every day

and I could walk, for years, a few houses down to pick up

Abby Glazer or she could walk to me the summer after we sold the beach

house where we could just wander I took a debating class

at Amity High School Summer school and although I don’t remember

one subject we debated I do remember coming home every day

trying out techniques at dinner.  Let’s debate going to

outer space I’d ask my patient father my impatient mother

my brother four years younger 12 and after

a few days my mother said How Many Weeks is This Class

and my father, a little gentler, said If You Still Want to Do This

Later You Can Go to Law School and that was that.

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.


  1. Of course I liked this post. My memories of Hillside Avenue–at my house at 27 and yours at 43– remain amongst my happiest.
    I still regret that my parents sold that cottage.

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