In a mother’s womb were two babies. One asked the other: “Do you believe in life after delivery?” The other replies, “why, of course. There has to be something after delivery. Maybe we are here to prepare ourselves for what we will be later. “Nonsense,” says the other. “There is no life after delivery. What would that life be?” “I don’t know, but there will be more light than here. Maybe we will walk with our legs and eat from our mouths.” The other says “This is absurd! Walking is impossible. And eat with our mouths? Ridiculous. The umbilical cord supplies nutrition. Life after delivery is to be excluded. The umbilical cord is too short.” “I think there is something and maybe it’s different than it is here.” the other replies, “No one has ever come back from there. Delivery is the end of life, and in the after-delivery it is nothing but darkness and anxiety and it takes us nowhere.” “Well, I don’t know,” says the other, “but certainly we will see mother and she will take care of us.” “Mother??” You believe in mother? Where is she now? “She is all around us. It is in her that we live. Without her there would not be this world.” “I don’t see her, so it’s only logical that she doesn’t exist.” To which the other replied, “sometimes when you’re in silence you can hear her, you can perceive her.” I believe there is a reality after delivery and we are here to prepare ourselves for that reality.

In preparation for my mother’s 89th birthday, I was going through her old pictures and files and came across the most amazing series of letters which I have dubbed “the War of the Hoses.” My mother was a WAC in WWII and served very proudly. In 1946 she and some of the girls discovered that nylons, which were very hard to find in the USA, were much more affordable in Mexico! So being based in Texas, they crossed the border. And so the saga begins…

I just loved this story because it so speaks to the women of WWII as well as the innocence of this earlier time. Not going to Mexico to smuggle meth, just pantyhose. What’s a girl to do, after all?? Next year, Mom turns 90, God willing.

Click the link below to read the War of the Roses letters
War of the Hoses (Lewenz)2

Summer Afternoon

Lying against the sand
endlessly active eyes
peer out from my
water-filled, resting head.

“All men are created equal,” he’d said.

“All people are created equally,” I’d corrected him
aware that the slight was unnecessary.

Through the grass
and burning, sun-baked body
the short, chubby legs
 of an inquisitive two year old
appear
a wet Irish Setter
attracts her Chinese eyes.

“It’s human nature to be dissatisfied,” he’d said.
“People always seek to satisfy greater sets of needs,” he’d said.
“Think of the Maslovian hierarchy,” he’d said.

Turning eyes down
an oversized, purple derriere
smiles to me
adjusting a stone-filled sandal.

My head rolls
to the other side of the beach.

Plump black stems
fold into a contrastingly white
baggy diaper
and laughs as funny Daddy’s glasses
slide down her
pebble nose.

“No.  Social inequalities require dissatisfaction,” I’d said.
“The hungry don’t know about Maslow,” I’d said.

Thin yellow thighs
relieve the child
of the inquisitive nose of the Setter.

A strong wind blows over the beach
and everybody shudders.

I’d like a
milk chocolate
Lawyer Bar
please

and I want a peppermint
Doctor Stick
please

And an
Accountant Cluster
for Stevie
please

“And what would you like, Timmy?”

I would like a
Businessman Bar
without almonds
please

And an actress’s day
Dream Mint
for Jenny
please

and a two scoop
Vanilla A Frame
with four children
and a dog
please

And a taffy condominium
for Peter
with a chocolate covered wife
and mint golf clubs
for the weekend
please

And Joey wants a
Chocolate Sunday
with more nuts
than Daddy’s
please
And could you make mine
three scoops
‘cause the Jones’
already have two
please

“And
what do you want to be
when you grow up, Susan?”

When I grow up
I would like
to be
me
please
without almonds.

The Little Old Lady
stands in the street waiting
as they repossess her shoe

her welfare’s been cut
her power’s been shut
and she’s lost her children too.

Mr. Jack Spratt
has learned to eat fat
‘cause there’s nothing else on his plate

his wife’s not so lean
she’s strong and she’s mean
when he returns from the bar too late.

And Little Jack Horner
stands in the corner
his eyes are black and blue

his mother was mad
now he’s waiting for Dad
who’ll make his arms and legs that way too.

The Sneeches with stars
march through the stores and the bars
demanding and equal share

and those Sneeches without
from Washington shout
and the military quiet the affair.

While Jack’s up the hill
giving his all to Jill
he leaves her with 2 months to decide

But she didn’t know
her school couldn’t show
and now there’s a seed growing inside.

It’s 20th century make believe
everyone plays – no one believes
and the Butcher has saved the moon.

But when this story is told
and all the children are old
and the make believe has ceased

They’ll sit at the table
and dream if they’re able
while Mother Goose is the Thanksgiving feast.

In the early evening
of this small, mid-western town
all faces hurry homeward
all eyes turned toward the ground.

There are no sounds of laughter
or cheerful voices to neighbors greet
only silent, fearful glances
and the sounds of busy feet.

The silence goes unbroken
as do the unspoken laws;
the travelers never touching
nor stopping without cause.

It’s a sea of loneliness
heading for each private bay
where isolation will protect them
‘till they need emerge – for another day.

Pinky DeLong sat on the wrong
stoop as he beckoned the day.

He celebrated his sun, as she had begun
to conquer the moon again.

He yawned as she dawned and
	she beamed as he leaned
on the brick post at the fore of his bed.

While he languished in her glory,
	she passed the third story
and rested at the top of the bank.

Then his eyes met the wagon,
	the eight-eyed dragon
whose pious reverence was only for him.

So with a smile on his face and his
	morning wad in place
he expectorated the morning at them.

Then scratching as he pleased he rose to his knees
and gathered his bed to his back.

He walked rather bent, yet smiled as he went
enjoying the thrill of another day.

His body filled with mirth as he delighted in the birth
and his victory over the frozen world.

For the joy that life lacked, his love would bring back
when he woke to her morning kiss.

He felt her warm at his side and deep down inside
off walked Pinky DeLong.