When my brother and I would fight
22 months between us in age
She didn’t let us tell her the reasons for our conflict
My brother would bite me
I told my father, “Tony might be a vampire.”
“There’s no such thing as vampires,” he would tell me
“”Don’t tell me, tell him,” I replied
I whipped Tony with a hot wheel track
Narrowly missing an eye
My Mother would say, “I don’t care why. You are both wrong.”
My brother could draw with both talent and humor, through migraines, ADHD and dyslexia
They only realized he couldn’t read because he had memorized every book he’d heard while mom used to read to us
Even after we were both supposedly able to read fine ourselves
But she accidentally skipped a page, when he was reading to her, once
And recited the page she missed instead
His creative and sophisticated mind
Beat mine, I knew
And I COULD read at four
Suddenly the words in a book of fairytales
Made pictures in my head
Neither of us thought like other children I knew, too sensitive, too vigilant,
too diagnosed with things we couldn’t hide
We were youngest with each other
Tony visited Portland for a conference of his wife’s
A chance to see our uncle Larry, more older brother though
Born when my Mother was nineteen
He was the coolest older brother, who lived just over the hills
And I think my parents practiced parenting him for years before they had us
My Dad came for a date, before they were even Married
In a New British mini-Cooper convertible, tiny, like a toy
And out came toddler Larry“
“Thank you, thank you! Uncle Mike”
I was often deliberately prone to masquerade elsewhere
Even playing alone, I lived in every book I read
My Gumby superpower
I didn’t read Island of the Dolphins
I was the girl, stranded alone
It was bad enough being a smart kid
Suzi Encyclopedia is not a glamorous nickname
And knowing the answer isn’t always the correct thing to say
Tony had his own story to live, his own involuntary ways to hide
Ten year olds lack authority, anyway
My parents went to China right when they allowed the first tourists
Dad returned with tales, as was his way
He’d lecture professorially, based on knowledge gained from two-week guided tours, now expert on all things Chinese
I’m a little too much like him, and hated myself then
Tony was maybe ten, and had spent the week with me and grandma
Who was particularly annoyed my Mother let me choose my own outfits
My Aunt Frances died at 34 without that freedom
And I had the temerity to be born on Frances’ birthday
Thankfully Grandma Kaplan was dead before we married
Frances is my sister-in-law’s name, and neither of us married Jews
She followed the television watching limit of 30 minutes a week
With a prison matron’s eye
And ten year old boys who can’t watch television at home
Have a habit of reading quite a lot
Even when I cheated, I read at the same time – still do
I’ve never asked about his interest in Eastern Religion
I was a twelve-year old girl
And twelve-year old girl’s have obsessions of their own
As my father expounded on Chinese religious sites
He pronounced Taoism like it’s spelled, again and again
Tony finally said, “It’s pronounced Taoism Dad.”
“But it starts with a T, and that’s how the guide always said it!”
Emphatically certain was his version of resting bitch face
Especially once he’d gotten to the Jack Daniel’s
But he’s been free from bourbon for decades
And Tony and I are older now than he was then
And he still doesn’t believe me, especially when I am right
If he hears my voice at all
Ever dreamt you were invisible?
I don’t have to, I know it doesn’t matter
Though he’s still my Daddy, even now
And I’m a woman in her 50’s
I’ve never met one who doesn’t know what it’s like
And not just because her tits and ass lost the fight with gravity
It’s a Higher Power, after all
“The T is silent, like in bananas,”
Said 10 year old Tony, as he stomped off to his room
Thirty-five years later, he’s still that Tony when I see him
As family tends to be
My heart breaks more than a little
(Fortunately, hearts break all the time)
Dad casually says at a gathering,
“Well Suzi, YOU were the “creative one”
And I was creative – I still am
But I’m good at math, and science, got the college degrees to prove it
I didn’t pick the majors because I wanted to, I did it because I could
And my parents still have low expectations and astronomic demands
But at family therapy, like Tony answered the therapist at 25, when asked if there was an agenda for the session
“All our agendas are hidden, so let’s just begin.”
We all laughed at that one, humor makes good armor
And we’ve been fighting a long time
Life is Rashomon, my father plays King Lear
Mom plays Queen MacBeth or Katherine, the shrew, depending on the moment
Tony and I were both busy choosing our own roles, WE weren’t always certain of the play
Mom used to say, “No one told you Life was fair.”
Mom used to say, “Retroactive abortion might be a good idea.”
Mom used to say, “Do you know how much I love you?”
Mom used to say, “Do I look fat in these pants?”
Mom used to say, “You’re lazy, fat and worthless.”
Mom used to say, “You’re so beautiful,” and kiss me
Mom used to say, “You said you’d return that two weeks ago.” and bang my head against the wall
She’d play “skiing from the Nazis” as we parallel turned down the slopes
Mom told Mrs. Berman, showed boxes full of sketches I’d made during science class, though it hadn’t affected my grades – the “smart class” and the honor roll
“Pretty good work, I’d say.” Mom said,
And led me out of the room, sketches in hand
Mom used to say “Elephants don’t give birth to kittens
I’m not sure which we were
Mom used to say, “I need a facelift, don’t you think?”
Hating herself was my moms “resting bitch face”
And I was never sure if it was the ways I looked just like her
Or the ways I definitely didn’t,
of which I’d come out worse
Without mutual exclusivity, both were probably true
Mom used to say, “You’re a loser.”
But when creative differences
Got me kicked out of the planned performance of my good friends
On a field trip to Idyllwild when I was in the 7th grade
Right before the show
I had little time, and no ideas, for what to do alone
She collected clothes from somewhere, so I could have a lot of layers on
And said, “Put on your red pajamas underneath”
I thought she’d lost her mind
They were red, one piece long Johns, maybe even with feet
And I was still a tiny little girl
My mom said, “Do a striptease to ‘Let Me Entertain You”
Down to her actual underwear, and DD bra, huge on my prepubescent form
Until I was just in my pj’s
It brought down the show
I’m creative, but NOT the creative one
My mother used to say, “Be careful what you wish for”
And sometimes that’s the cruelest kind of true
But sometimes it means it’s best
To never wish, at all
My mother said, “Without children there’s nothing to live for”
As I sat childless in my forties, her group of friends agreed
My husband was jettisoned from family gatherings, at the time
My mother used to say, “We go to family funerals just to make sure they’re dead.”
After decades ten minutes apart
I see my nephews every few years – haven’t been invited to be the Aunt Suzi they could know
Fortunately, like my brother got a namesake wife
They got a spare Aunt Suzi in the deal
She may be in Australia
But their whole childhood, when I saw them
My mother always said, “You remember your Aunt Suzi”
They’d nod their little heads, for years
Then insist that that their Aunt Suzi, was definitely not me
I’m 12 hours drive away now
And I’ve always hated the phone
Remembering the way all four of us
Couldn’t talk on it and stand
That curly connection to the kitchen phone, hard-wired to the wall
Was long enough to pace the floor, and stretched to several rooms
But I’m not a fucking Catholic
You can’t excommunicate me
I’ve had the same best friend for over fifty years
And geographical convenience means nothing to me
I’m THAT kind of Scorpio, five times in my chart
Sun, moon, rising, Neptune and mercury, Venus and mars in Sag
I’m a fixed object
underwater volcano
I’ve outlived airless magma underworlds
I’m not going anywhere
But mom says, “Why are we estranged?”
I didn’t know we were
My mom’s review of Titanic was, “Where the fucks an iceberg when you need one?”
When I was eleven she asked if there was anything about sex I wanted to know
“In a blow job, do you blow, or suck?”
The only question I had
“It’s just a figure of speech, Suzi.” Mom said
Leaving it at that
I don’t know what she told Tony, and I guess I never will
But her gift to me of a painting, I’m sure she just thought it wasn’t good
But I love the thick red abstract, and what my mother said
Painted in black freehand
Her bloody painting said
“Today I felt like something red, so I ate my Mother’s heart“
“I could have a hundred lovers, if I could wear a blazer to bed”
My mother doesn’t write much
But that’s what her poem said
I’d think she’d know that blazers
Aren’t as alluring as she said
But I’ve got my own collection
Mama in my head
She wasn’t at all religious as a Jew
Crossed herself entering churches every time
“Bread and butter,” mom would say, every time there was a reason to drop my hand
Suzi Kaplan Olmsted 