Different Slants

Comment by brad dechter

September 30, 2011 @ 2:10 pm

Bob,
I’ve read your books and know your story. This is a really personal poem- very emotional and well written. My only thoughts, as a different sort of “Keeper of the Lies” is that you are a better person than me, because I do not live the lies, but the feelings and emotions are something that I will never be free of. From that standpoint, I am the keeper of the hate. It will never leave me, much as I wish it would. I will never be free as you indicate above. Mazel tov to you and Shana
Tovah!
Brad

Comment by Bruce Matteson

September 30, 2011 @ 2:31 pm

You have waited a long time for this, and now it is done
you did it well and with grace
enjoy your freedom, B.

Comment by Don Larson

September 30, 2011 @ 3:06 pm

Bob,

Knowing you as I do, I think what you did was right.

From age 7 to about 26 I also kept some “lies” within, but not about my family. It was in connection to my second-grade Catholic school Nun, Mother Superior. At about age 26 I realized I had to forgive or let the terrible feelings consume me.

So I forgave, completely. I don’t forget what happened, but I stopped the anger about 35 years ago.

Every person should work out their troubles. You have.

Sincerely,

Don

Comment by Rick

October 1, 2011 @ 9:07 am

Wow!

Comment by Robert M. Katzman

October 1, 2011 @ 10:16 am

All of your responses matter very much to me.

I had a lot of trouble writing this. It was inspired by an effort on my part, some years ago during a very grave Yom Kippur moment, to attempt to forgive my sister Bonnie, whom I write about in this poem, because of her coldness and indifference towards me.

My decision to change how I regarded her caused no difference in how she treated me, but it did give me greater compassion about how damaged she became because of her terror at my mother’s hands. That helped, but I sure wished I could have had a sister who was loving and interested.

Then Bonnie died last June in 2010 at 62, ten years after my mother died at 80, and is buried next to her. Her early death from blood cancer,is a tragedy I will never recover from.

But then, this summer, her son Brad called me and told me he had been going through Bonnie’s papers and found something he felt I might want. I told him sure, bring it by my store, without knowing what he was talking about.

After Brad dropped off a small box and I hugged him goodbye, I looked through it.

One of those wonderful/terrible moments happened.

The box was full of every birthday card I ever gave her since I was a teenager in the Sixties. Every newspaper article ever written about me, 50 years worth. It was shocking. A box heavy with emotion from a woman unable to display any. I missed her more than ever, realizing what I saw was not actually who she was. She was proud of me, cared for me…from a distance.

This is why I don’t write fiction. The truth is terrible enough without trying to invent something meaningless.

And our mother?

There’s nothing to add. I am the last one harmed by her, and she will exist as long as I do. I hope that that will be a while longer. A new grandchild, Jericho, is coming this December. But there’s more.

About the Jewish custom of naming new grandchildren after recently deceased grandparents? None of the four are named after my mother, a curse of anonimity worse than I would have wished upon her.

All my children knew her well, even Sarah. If no one else knew the truth, at least they did. That gave me comfort, over the years. Lies are so heavy to keep.

Comment by Vivian

October 1, 2011 @ 1:27 pm

Bob,
thank you so much for sharing your truth, for having the courage to access it and – by sharing it so oppenly and graciously – incentivate other to do the same. The lies and secrets are too heavy. Life does not need fiction, as it dramatic but also immensily beatiful by itself. And embraces so much wisdom – one just has to look with ones heart.
Shanah Tovah to you from the botton of my heart my friend,

Comment by Herb Berman

October 1, 2011 @ 6:01 pm

Wrenching, Bob.

Shalom.

Comment by Gela Altman

October 1, 2011 @ 8:06 pm

Bob,
The Monster will be dead and buried forever and freedom will be your just reward the day you forgive her. Is that too much to ask?
Shana Tovah,
Gela

Comment by aka...Gargi

October 8, 2011 @ 12:21 pm

Hello Mr. Robert Katzman,

I recently read about you via a Reader article, and came to check out your website (because I too, admire “rarities”…and you seem in that genre ;~})

Well, I was stunned at the first page, to find your poem, “I Have to Bury the Monster!!!” * (I know it took a load of courage…and a lot of pain, to write this). Why do I know so surely:

1) In the last decade or so, have been working at getting to the truth of the enormously painful and conflicted relationship between my mother (turning 93 in November) and myself– so the theme of your poem struck home…

2) I soon will be having to do likewise: burying my mother– literally and figuratively (if I’m ever going to find myself fully)

3) During this period, I too wrote a poem about my mother…with a similar title (My Mother, the Monster)

4) The posting date of your poem was my birthday!

* In case these memories resurrectfrom time-to-time, I have found the passionate work– exposing child abuse, “poisonous pedagogy”, and punitive parenting of much of our world culture– of the late Swiss artist/therapist (really, healer), Alice Miller a true god-send for healing:

http://alice-miller.com/index_en.php

P.S. You may or may not be shocked by the number of people from around the world (of all ages), who have had “less than a less-than-loving mother”, and who are still writing in at her website…

I’m glad for having visited yours– the universe gives lots of ‘hints’, doesn’t it?

Comment by Bob

October 8, 2011 @ 8:46 pm

Gargi,
I appreciate you responding to what you read and taking the time to comment. Few do. We both already know about our mothers–mine died ten years ago at 80–so I choose to say no more about that. Poems must stand or fall on their own power.

I have written so many things, so many stories and poetry in my 61years, please don’t let your first impression of me as a writer coming to terms with the horror of his youth (from 5 to 14) before escaping in the middle of the night on June 8th 1964, establish in your mind what I am about.

The stories are all true and while based upon my complex life and Chicago, also travel across oceans. I am in my store every day, where I sell & sign my 5 published books. If you are curious about the store, the books or me, please come visit. Not to talk about our mothers, however.

If you want to read more, the http://www.NewCity.com interview took place a week earlier and was a cover story. If you go there to read it, scroll down on the right side until NewCity Lit shows up. Click on that and scroll down about 5-6 stories until I show up. You can’t miss it. A beautifully written interview. Bet you’ll like it. Please tell your friends about the store & the stories. We are one of only 4 such stores left in the USA. Tell your friends on FaceBook or however people communicate now.

Remember, Gargi, whatever stories you may read on my story blog…are always true. You can visit the publishing site too. http://www.FightingWordsPubco.com Click on the book covers and you can read the reviews.

Nice to meet you, and happy birthday.

Bob

Comment by Bruce Matteson

October 12, 2011 @ 9:41 pm

YES! This is all! You have said it just right now!