Aprons

I wear an apron when I bake –
It used to be my mother’s.
I like that old connection, ‘cause
I could be wearing others.

For many years you couldn’t find
An apron anywhere,
Except a plain old white one,
Lacking kitschiness or flair.

When I was younger, housewives had
A kitchen-y collection;
The aprons then were purposeful,
Not objects of affection.

But now in stores, they’re back in stock
In patterns most delightful.
A yearning back to simpler times?
Although that sounds insightful,

I think it’s just a retro thing –
To see the past as cool;
Yet batter-spattered aprons prove
The wearer is no fool!

Tiger and Lindsey

Tiger Woods and Lindsey Vonn
Are dating – golly gee!
So when she nails him cheating,
She can clock him with a ski.

His ex-wife, Elin, only had
A golf club for the deed.
A ski should work much better,
Though that isn’t guaranteed.

If I were Lindsay, you can bet
I’d be quite well-prepared;
And Tiger, with his balls in tow,
Would soon be running scared.

Layers

When packing for a trip to where
The weather’s always iffy,
It’s hard to know just what to take
So you’ll be looking spiffy.

The same advice is given by
Experienced conveyors,
And that is you should plan each day
To dress yourself in layers.

I understand the concept, but
The execution’s tough.
Some t-shirts, long-sleeves, sweaters –
Will that combo be enough?

Or else my suitcase will weigh more
That I do, pound for pound;
And shedding all those layers,
That’s a lot to schlep around.

Whatever clothing makes the cut
Will be what I will wear;
And once I’m there, I have the feeling
That I just won’t care.

Small Town, USA

I’m looking at the Calders at the Whitney, what a treat!
Just standing by myself, when all at once, who do I meet?
The father of my daughter’s housemate, who lives miles away;
Yet both of us converged to check the art in the display.

We see each other once a month, at staff and parent meetings
And at the house is where we’ve always talked and had our greetings.
Today, though, by coincidence, our parent guard was down,
And New York City seemed just like a typical small town.

It isn’t common to encounter people that you know
Away from where you know them, in the city’s ebb and flow;
But sometimes these things happen and despite the urban sprawl,
You realize that it really is a small world after all.

Accused

A woman in the store said she
Had falsely been accused.
The situation seemed to be
Not easily defused.

She claimed a sales clerk followed her
And looked inside her bag
To see if possibly there was
An item she did snag.

The argument was getting loud;
I couldn’t help but hear.
The back and forth was jarring
In the store’s chic atmosphere.

I paid and left – I’ll never know
The end of that dispute.
It made me wonder how I’d feel
With sales clerks in pursuit.

For profile victims have to boil
With anger to the hilt,
Just knowing others look at them,
Imagining their guilt.

That woman might be innocent
Or possibly, a thief;
But I’ll admit, not being her,
I walked out with relief.

Gefilte Fish

The company was wonderful;
The meal was quite delish,
All lovingly prepared except
The jarred gefilte fish.

But certain things you have to have –
Tradition reigns supreme –
And years ago, gefilte fish
Was added to the scheme.

Of course, back then my grandmothers
Prepared it all from scratch.
They started with the pike and whitefish,
Fresh from someone’s catch.

I’ve heard of homes where pike or carp
Would swim around the tub;
Nobody took a bath ‘til grandma
Clunked it with a club.

Now that gefilte fish was great,
‘Cause it was made with love;
The fish in jars is tasteless, yucky, bland –
All the above.

To make it fresh you need much more
Than I have got to give,
And so I serve the bogus stuff –
My guests will all forgive.

The other food was killer
So I really must profess
That, minus homemade fish, our Seder
Was a great success!

My Daughter Said...

My daughter said to write this poem
And so I said I’d try.
She rarely asks for such a thing
And so I should comply.

We spent a day with special friends –
Had lunch and saw a show.
The sun was out, the food was good,
The talk and laughs did flow.

The play, my daughter’s favorite,
Told of Joseph and his coat.
We know the story and each lyric
Brilliant Tim Rice wrote.

It was delightful being there,
A day we won’t forget;
And now that it’s been set to rhyme,
That’s even better yet!