Update 12-25-07

Hi,

Merry Christmas, of course.  It’s cold where a lot of you are and cold where I am, back on top of a hill in the high desert north of Reno.  I asked my brother-in-law how high the hill is, and he said, “Not very – maybe 300 feet.”  But he added, “Of course, Reno’s a mile high.”
     That could explain why it’s so cold.  Or it could just be the season.  In any case, a good chunk of the country is getting a white Christmas, though, fortunately, only the parts that traditionally have gotten one before.  People keep reminding me that it’s been two dozen years since it snowed in LA.

First up, an exchange of letters between one of our frequent correspondents and one of former teachers:

From Barbara Blitfield Pech to Bernie O’Brien:   Greetings.  I haven't heard from or heard back from you in a while.  I hope that all is well, and you are just too busy to sit down and read e-mails.  Best regards and hugs.

And Bernie wrote to Barbara:  Sorry that I haven’t been in touch with my favorite e-mailer.  For the last three weeks, I’ve been “under the weather” with a pretty good case of pneumonia.  Slowly, but surely, I’m getting a little strength back, but it’s amazing how useless I feel, especially at this time of year.  Still, I’ve had plenty of Tender Loving Care from my “bride” and nurse, plus the attention of our grandchildren.
     I hope all is well with you, and many thanks for all the laughs from the e-mails your forward.  God bless you, and have a great holiday season, and a Happy and Healthy New Year. Hugs right back to you.

[Rich – Again, thanks to Barbara for maintaining the contact, and to Bernie, best wishes from all of us for extended good health.]

Next, several excerpts from several classmates’ Christmas notes:

     Emily Kleinman Schreiber mentions that her mother just celebrated her 90th birthday.

     Larry Rugen mentions that he’s off to explore Germany again in February.

     Robert Fiveson mentions a link that he thinks is about the funniest Christmas-related thing anyone can read:  http://boards.straightdope.com/sdmb/showthread.php?t=160851     

     And Linda Cohen Greenseid mentions that she’s been helping out her son and daughter-in-law for the past month in LA.

Finally, another exchange of e-mail notes with someone I don’t really know, again started by class connections.  The first e-mail arrived in my mailbox a week ago, and I nearly deleted it because I didn’t recognize the sender’s address.  But the subject line said “Poem,” and I don’t usually get spam from young women trying to sell me medication to enhance my body parts under that heading.  The first note read:

     Hello,
     You’ve included part of a poem I wrote on your website.  It was written as a eulogy for my father, Philip Essman.  Did you know him?  Were you at his memorial service?  Do I know you?  Have we met?
     Yrs,
     Daniel Essman

I wrote back:

     Daniel Essman,
     Yes, I worked with Phil on the TV Academy Ed Committee for maybe a dozen years, so I was at his memorial service.  But that, of course, was several years ago, and I'd forgotten your poem.
     I edit a weekly online newsletter for my former high school class.  It's mostly full of notes from former classmates, but once in a while, it contains other writing.  I must have included a piece of your poem in the week after the service.
     For a long time, the weekly newsletters were posted to our website, but then I ran out of space.  That was two years ago this Thanksgiving, and I seem to remember Phil's memorial service was in the winter, so it must have been at least two-and-a-half years ago.  Also, for a long time, the AOL site that hosts the class web page wasn't searchable, but now it is.  So that's how you came across your poem.
     Since I unfortunately can't remember any of the words, I just tried a Google search on Phil, Essman, Daniel, poem, and our website, but got nothing, so I can't even find the poem to read it again.  I certainly hope you're not offended that I quoted it, and if I didn't mention who wrote it, it was probably to protect your family's privacy -- I do that on the site.  In any case, I remember it being moving.
     If you tell me where the poem is, I'll look at it again.  If you want it removed or credited, I'll happily do that.  I'm not sure who really reads the back newsletters, which is another reason I stopped posting them.  They're mailed directly to about 150 people every Monday night.  But enough time has passed that it might not feel like I was invading a family's privacy just to share their thoughts.  And if you found the poem, other people can, and they might like to know who wrote it.  In any case, you gave me a chance to think of Phil again, something I haven't done for a while, so thanks.  I hope your family is well, and please let me know what you'd like done about the poem.
     Rich Eisbrouch

And Daniel Essman wrote:

Dear Rich,
     Yes, you did include a bit of the poem in your newsletter.  From time to time, I Google myself...an act of both political (paranoia) and garden-variety narcissism.
     I always appreciate being quoted.  My first thought (forgive the ego):  why didn't Rich print the entire poem?  Then, and more important to me, why did Rich choose those lines to excerpt?  They must have spoken to him more personally than the rest of the poem.  Since you are a writer, I know you understand my curiosity.  The artistic problem we expressive types confront is... I know what I'm saying, but what is my audience hearing?
     One of my greatest joys is in the feedback, in the return on my words in the new words of those who have listened to me.  A couple years ago, I was reading at the Poetry Center in Sacramento. I started with poetry and finished with a short story, a ghost story about a young woman (girl, really) with a history of sexual abuse, who is insulted cruelly by her current lover and shoots him.  Afterward, two women from a "victims of childhood rape" support group told me how deeply encouraged they were by my story, that I'd helped them.
     Words have no weight, but these two strangers, these women (in their bare-nerved demeanor so clearly victims of torture)...they had found the substance...had found sustenance. They quoted me back to me...wow...
     So, it's always touching to hear from a friend of my father.  It's holiday time, it's the dark of sun.  I miss him.  Terribly.
     Yrs,
     Daniel Essman

And I wrote:

Daniel,
     As seemed usual for the members of what's now the former Ed committee of the TV Academy, we kept our accomplishments quiet.  So I learned more about your father's role as a TV pioneer at his memorial service.  But I think well of him and of all the members of the committee, and we've been having get-togethers since last year.
     I don't know what touched me about the particular lines of that particular poem, and I can't find it to be reminded, though I have the newsletter somewhere in my computer.  I tried searching for it, both online and off, with no success, though I have to admit I didn't spend a lot of time 'cause I'm kinda busy with other people's holiday deadlines for me.  I did come across the fact that you live in Mendocino, and, except for the winter weather, I'm jealous.
     So if you could send me the poem, or even the lines I quoted, I can do the same Google search you did and be led back to my own website to see what I think and try to remember what I thought.  There's a poetry in that I'll leave you to explore.  Meanwhile, I hope you're well.
     Rich

And Daniel Essman wrote:

Quoted from Update 11-23-04

Finally, part of a poem by Daniel Essman, from a recent memorial service:
 
The water is running out of the boat.
You tell me to bail.
But I tell you:
The water is running out of the boat.
We won't sink, though we are sinking.
I tell you:
I've seen level,
And I know,
The water is running out of the boat.
We will not sink, whether I bail or not.
The water itself is sinking.
Relax.  We're safe.
Hear then.  Now.
 
    Speaking of computer frustrations:  it seems my full, digital copy of  the poem, "Green Twigs. Like Emeralds" failed to survive the last hard drive crash.  There's too much silicon in our lives.  Too much logic will always lead one astray, lead one into collision with the bumper cars of the day to day.
     I do have the broadside, which I distributed on the day of the memorial service.  I'll dig up the hard copy from the files of Rainy Day Women Press, my wife's and my poetry press.  (It's much easier to get published when one owns the publishing company.  No, it's not really a press dedicated to my vanity.  We have a list of gifted poets including Jack Hirschman, current Poet Laureate of San Francisco).  If you're interested, I'll send you a copy of "Green Twigs..."
     I know, I know...stupid question.  Can one really say?  "No Dan. I'd rather you didn't..."
     Did my father ever tell you how he was recruited into the OSS during the Second World War?  They taught him Chinese then scrapped the spy mission to China and sent him to France.  After VE Day, he was transferred to Biarritz, where he was program director for Armed Forces Radio. These are great stories.  And not often told.
     Yrs,
     Dan Essman

And I wrote:

     Daniel,
     Yep, now I remember why I liked the poem so much, and why I particularly quoted that part.  It reminded me of an exchange from the movie version of Catch 22 that I used to quote a lot when I was younger, in production, and behind on a project:
          Voice one:  "Help the bombardier!  Help the bombardier!"
          Voice two:  "I am the bombardier!"
     And, of course, there are echoes of Beckett's, "I can't go on.  I'll go on."
     And, "The center will not hold."
     Lots of reasons I liked it.
     More later.  Packing to leave for Christmas, early tomorrow morning.
     Rich

[So it seems I did credit Daniel Essman for the poem, which is why he was able to find it in an Internet search.  I just didn’t mention the circumstances because I was trying to protect his family’s privacy.  But circumstances have allowed me to read the poem again, or at least part of it, and it certainly seemed worth sharing again, along with Daniel Essman’s letters.]

Again, as the inflatable snowman down my block has it, “Happy Christmas.”