Different Slants

Seeing the World from a New Angle

Chaos:Battle Cry of the Anguished American Immigrant…by Robert M Katzman

Filed under: Uncategorized — Bob at 10:27 am on Monday, June 1, 2020

Battle Cry of an Anguished American Immigrant

By Robert M. Katzman 

(Originally written in 2008, it fits the terrible times of today. I hope people will read these thoughts and share them, if they in someway represent your own passions, frustrations and aspirations for this incredible country)


To me, being an American is an idea.

A concept.

An agreement of equals.

A willingness to tolerate the differences in others

A celebration of the beauty of cultural diversity.

While maybe originally, ours was a government,

            “Of the Protestants, By the Protestants and For the Protestants”

We’re bigger than that today.  A numerically insignificant People like my own family, Jews, now represent less than 2% of the total American population, but I believe that our Constitution includes me when I read it.  I don’t live in fear, here. 

(Read on …)

Remembrances of a Mother I Didn’t Know…by Robert M. Katzman

Filed under: Uncategorized — Bob at 5:12 am on Sunday, May 10, 2020

By Robert M. Katzman © September 11, 2010

Originally written a decade ago to comfort a good friend on the loss of her mother who lived in another country. But the meaning is so universal, I decided that others may take comfort from it as well. If you happen to know someone who will appreciate these carefully chosen words, please tell them to come read my poem.  


Mothers can be 

Far away


Deep within you


The same time

They are

Like the Sun


You rotate

Around them

(Read on …)

Irving Katzman’s 70th Birthday, the Dead Man Who “Spoke” to Him and the Son Who Could Not…by Robert M. Katzman

Filed under: Uncategorized — Bob at 12:11 pm on Friday, May 8, 2020

Irving Katzman’s 70th Birthday, the Dead Man Who “Spoke” to Him an the Son Who Could Not

by Robert M. Katzman © May 8, 2020

Now that I’m 70 years old myself, I think it’s time to tell this unusual story, because at this point, 38 years after my father Israel’s 70thbirthday on September 21, 1982, there is virtually no one else left to tell it. Not every family story is worth remembering, but this one is. First, a brief chronology: 

My Father’s Father, Jacob Katzman, a carpenter born in 1882 in Megilev-on-the-Dnieper River in Byelorussia (who was 70 himself in 1952), was one of only four boys born into my family since that date, until 1978. Israel-1912; his brother Milton 1916; myself-1950 and my son David (now Konee)-1978. It was rare for all four of us to be together in one room, but we were in 1982 at my Father’s 70th birthday party. My Grandfather Jacob, was dead since 1961, Milton was 66, I was 32 and Konee was 4.

(Read on …)

Torching My Past on Easter Sunday…by Robert M. Katzman

Filed under: Uncategorized — Bob at 5:39 pm on Sunday, April 12, 2020

Copyright April 12, 2020 by Robert M. Katzman


During this Time of Virus

In solitary

Watching the sky

Hearing the silence

Clouds float by

Time floats by

I realize, at nearly seventy

There will never be a

Museum of my Life and Times

Like everybody else

I will evaporate


(Read on …)

May Death Pass Over–But This Time, All of Us…by Robert M. Katzman

by Robert M Katzman © April 1, 2020

(Dedicated to a truly good and noble person, Bill Skeens)


Desolation and Isolation

Staring through a window

From a quiet dim kitchen

Stocked with food against the abyss

I see the shining steel fan spinning

I see the cedar swing moving

In the cold spring wind

I see the red brick fireplace 

Black with charred dead embers

Surrounded by logs and branches

But empty of the warmth of fire

I do so miss the people


(Read on …)

On Emotional Cruelty and Loss at Christmas Time…by Robert M. Katzman

by Robert M. Katzman © Sunday, December 22, 2019

Written in response to Peggy Boyce’s letter of pain on Mike Stickler’s Facebook page: No, Peggy, I don’t know you but I decided to respond. Perhaps it will give you something you want.

I am Jewish, not into ritual, but deeply spiritual, and now old enough to have experienced the loss of so many people that I have forgotten some of their names.

(Read on …)
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