Karren LaLonde Alenier

second thoughts

overheard as my data transfers to a new platform one man asks another is Jimmy Carter still alive yes I interrupt he’s old but still breathing next day Sunday our 39th commander-in-chief dies

later that day in my neighborhood of Friendship Heights I cross paths with my favorite politician the one who led the impeachment against 45 what is this a Jamie Raskin convention at the tail end of the pack of maybe twenty a woman says they just finished a late afternoon dinner when I complete my errand I find Jamie and his family and friends in the Village square Jamie welcomes me with his awarding-winning smile no one else is around we talk about poetry politics and the weather what a glorious day so warm oddly no one else is around so we talk about his book and the long poem written by a friend of mine Anne Becker “The Jamie Raskin Oratorio” a work set to music that he is yet to see or hear his family, his friends are in no hurry the children offer up comic observations about famous people

Monday dawns with news that a matriarch of poetry has passed Myra Sklarew professor of 10,000 or more buried Tuesday her obit written by the mother of poetry herself reads Myra Sklarew the (not so) famous poet who lived among us for many years we are sad to say has departed this world having been done in by the overflow of books in her house I debate briefly whether to attend virtually or in person no I must go in the small chapel sit about 35 maybe 20 online we must wait till later for her splendid wake

Under Carter I worked for the Department of Energy to save energy the submarine lieutenant later peanut farmer turned off the hot water in the building where I worked I liked him better building Habitats for Humanity

After I walked away from Congressman Raskins leaving him in my neighborhood square I realized the weight of two pending anniversaries the January 6th insurrection and the December 31st suicide of his son Tommy, an old soul even before he was 25 who often steered his father’s political decisions

I fret about Myra Sklarew’s pet project A Splendid Wake she wanted me to lead it to tackle all the obstacles thrown in the way to keep alive the memory of every poet in our tri-state area I urge her daughter to call their memorial program to her amazing mother A Splendid Wake I think about the life celebration I made for my late husband Jim Rich with a request that everyone bring cake his favorite I requested music his besty Howie Ehrenfeld sang Sixteen Tons that song Jim told Howie was perfect for his gravely voice everyone added to the story of Jim’s life how he hitchhiked across the United States his cat Tupelo who played hide and seek I want this for Myra stories about her sneaking out to Manhattan to hear legendary jazz musicians and how she could play piano too nothing she couldn’t do a scientist and poet

the addendum to this braided tale is I searched the Internet for news of Elisavietta Ritchie the poet who gave A Splendid Wake its name Myra all inclusive would have said Lisa Ritchie was cofounder of the project so I thought better to check with Lisa except except nothing new to be found until days later on Facebook well you know what I’m going to say she’s gone the way of the GWU wiki all the living data on District Maryland Virginia poets and poetry in a graveyard archive poof