Sara Arizona

Juncture

Sara Fryd — Fri, 27 Aug 2010 07:11:04 +0000

Here…

Between adolescence and womanhood

lies a bridge, a crossing over

an opaque, murky, slow moving river

cutting through tall rocks with striped

layers of dark rust and pale blush light

Whose banks are filled with cottonwoods,

towering sliver dollar eucalyptus,

and hiding places for feelings

heavy as rocks.

Prickly thistle hurt your palms

like an occasional wayward boy

your heart.

Dandelions ride the wind

on tall grasses green as emerald gems

landing on newly discovered spotted puppies

left alone hiding near the shore.

Adolescence…

holding ropes in lieu of wooden slats

with tight fingers, dark painted nails

tentative, unsure, crossing slowly

moving planks, unnerving to the soul

from baby girl to child to teenager to woman

the child in yellow flowers turns toward the light

“Mama, Mama help me,” she cries with wondrous eyes.

Wistfully turning…

the beautiful woman waits with outstretched arms

knowing, I cannot help, I cannot venture back

across the bridge

the present does not permit return

except in dreams.

Life, my life, my future yet unexplored, unknown

whispering faintly with anticipation

when courage takes me willingly

now in this moment, across the bridge…

Someday in Paris

Sara Fryd — Wed, 25 Aug 2010 07:11:44 +0000

You seduce with the body of a man

who’d ask a woman to lunch in Paris

Someday…

when he could afford the first class fare

Denny’s around the corner will have to do for now

And though I’ve known passion with men of experience

More than once…

Talented older and wiser men

Surely, they were incapable of lighting my heart

Not as you, with your laughing eyes

Which tickle at daybreak

In my office, with the door closed, and our clothes on…

I can’t remember the last time I wished for a younger body

Believed a truce had been made with the one I inhabit

Yet…

I find myself longing for dreams at 3 am

The daylight dance again and again

Wishing you were fifty and seven

instead of twenty and nine

Yearning for me, like you did yesterday

With those amused lake brushed eyes, not knowing yet

How to approach me or where to begin.

Creative Detonation

Sara Fryd — Mon, 23 Aug 2010 18:32:45 +0000

Exotic photographs of images

Of landscapes

Taken by alternates shock me awake

Yet, again…

My brain ceases to comprehend

The meanings of their creative forces

Until…

Appearing as visual jolts of images

That trigger words in patterns

Of fabric, of caramel signs in earth

Of blue sounds in air thru Aspen leaves

Turning gold, then red on arms of

Black striped white bark

Reaching for the sky with empty hands

French lace colored shallow waves

Sweeping in from the calm cashmere ocean

At dusk…

A gold cotton candy sky

Filled with sugary blush clouds

Of photographers souls

Taken another time, another place

Touch my heart, my soul, my mind

Then seep through my fingers

On to paper, then into thin air

With many thanks to Annmarie Lockhart’s “Neptune’s Court” http://voxpoetica.com/prompts.html and Howard Paley for his photograph “California Dreaming” http://www.hpaley.com/Photography/Seascapes/13315143_p5rXc#967843676_TMaDR that inspired this poem.

Magic Eyelashes

Sara Fryd — Sat, 21 Aug 2010 07:11:57 +0000

On the front of the refrigerator hung a huge calendar, where Rachel could see it every time she opened the door to get a drink for herself or her 3 year old brother Daniel. When it had big red X’s crossing out the first five months of the year, Rachel knew it was time to fly to a magical place – Arizona. June was Rachel’s favorite month of the year. Not only because summer vacation was beginning.

Every June since she was five years old, Rachel flew to Tucson, Arizona from Manchester, New Hampshire on Southwest Airlines. She sat in a front row seat near the flight attendants. All by herself! This year would be her fourth visit to Bubbie and Zaddie. It was already April and everyday she marked the red X’s on the calendar.

When she went to bed at night, she tried NOT to think about the drive through the desert from the airport to the ranch with all the different kinds of plants called cacti – saguaros, chollas, yuccas, ocotillos, prickly pear, and hedgehogs. The names of these plant creatures were almost as fanciful as their looks.

The prickly pear cactus had red purple Sabra fruits growing on them; just like in the pictures of Israel in the big book on the coffee table. She tried NOT to think about Bubbie and Zaddie’s animals. She couldn’t help herself. When she lay down at night and closed her eyes, her favorite pictures in her dreams were the ones of the lovebirds (Tsippi and Shira), the chow-chows (Yofi and Eli), and the painted pony (Chayaleh).

Tsippi and Shira had green and yellow feathers with red cheeks. They would ride around on Yofi’s back and take baths in Eli’s water dish. Chayaleh loved little apples and carrots with the greens still attached. If Chayaleh got out of the corral, she would sneak into the garden and pull the carrots out all by herself. She loved running over to the trees where the apples grew, then look around to see if anyone was watching her and grab a few snacks. In his letters to Rachel, Zaddie mentioned that apples and carrots were like cookies and ice cream to horses. This year he promised her that she could ride Chayaleh all the way down to the creek and back.

Rachel could hardly wait and every day when she came home from school, she counted the remaining days on the calendar and added a big red X. Then she ran upstairs and pulled the box of letters out of the special box she kept them in, then read them again and closed her eyes.

When Mom and Dad asked her what was her favorite part of the trip, she always said, “peeking through my fingers at the golden light while saying the blessing over the Shabbat candles with Bubbie Nusha.” Every night before she fell asleep, she’d say the “Shy’ma” and ask God to bless everyone in New Hampshire, everyone in Arizona, and everyone in the whole world, especially all the wonderful animals.

After her prayers, Rachel fell asleep remembering the golden light of the candles flickering through her fingers when she and Bubbie moved their hands three times in a circle and covered their eyes to say the blessing over the candles.

After all the days of April and May had been crossed out and a couple in June, Rachel packed her pink flowered suitcase. On the way to the airport they stopped at Shlomo & Vitos delicatessen and had bought a home made challah for Shabbat. She picked out the one with a huge braid down the center (just like Mom braided Rachel’s chestnut hair). Mom put the challah in Rachel’s suitcase, hugged her real tight, and kissed her eyelashes. “Goodbye New Hampshire, hello Arizona” Rachel thought. Maybe this time she could look out the window and see Kansas (where Dorothy lived).

Flying was exciting! Maybe this time she could look out the window and see Kansas (where Dorothy lived). She loved looking out at the clouds and the sun. She knew God lived up here. She would look out the window, wave and talk to him, “Hi God, how are you today? Thank you for these wonderful clouds that look like new snow and cotton balls.” Once they were in the air, the flight attendants brought her a wing pin for her sweater, a whole can of juice, and a package of peanuts. Soon the pilot came on and told them they were flying over Kansas (“Hi Dorothy, I’m up here”), then the Rocky Mountains (which still had snow at the very top).

When the pilot told everybody to look out the window so they could see the Grand Canyon from 30,000 feet up, Rachel knew she was almost there. Rachel knew her geography. She knew they were getting very close to Tucson. They turned south at the Grand Canyon, then started flying towards Tucson. She was high above her beloved Arizona. Soon she could see the Catalina and Rincon Mountains and knew they were about to land at Tucson airport.

Flight #918 came to a stop at the gate. Bubbie and Zaddie were waiting to take her to the “B Z Ranch.” Bubbie had brought her a pink cowboy hat. The kind cowgirls wear. She wanted to hug and kiss them both at the same time; she missed them so much. Hugs and kisses while Zaddie picked her up and put her on his shoulders and carried her out of the airport. She was so tall sitting on his shoulders; she could see everything. With her cowboy hat on, she and Zaddie were almost nine feet tall.

Eli was waiting in the back seat of the car. The licks, the yelping, the whining. Everybody in Arizona had missed Rachel so much. All the way to the Ranch she was thinking, “I’m Rachel the Cowgirl with the pink cowboy hat.” Wait till she brought the hat and pictures riding Chayaleh for fifth grade “show and tell” at the beginning of school in New Hampshire. First, she called home to tell them she arrived safe. “Mom! Dad! I got a pink cowboy hat! Now I’m a real cowgirl.” Then she went to the barn to give Chayaleh carrots and apples.

After she said hello to all the critters (cowgirl talk for animals), Rachel helped Bubbie get ready for Shabbat. She gave Bubbie the challah she brought from Shlomo & Vitos deli. They put it on a special Shabbat plate with Hebrew writing, covered it with a special challah cover with more Hebrew writing, and set it on the dinning room table next to Zaddie’s kiddish cup. They had set a beautiful table with a white tablecloth and napkins that Bubbie brought from Romania where she was born. Then they took out the silver candlesticks, placing white candles in them that smelled like the vanilla in Bubbie’s cookies.

They would light them later just before the sun went down. Then Bubbie gave Rachel a little box with a pink ribbon. When she opened the box, Rachel saw two smaller candlesticks of her own with two pink candles. Each of the candlesticks were shaped like big bow and when she put them on the table next to each other, they looked like silver flowers. Rachel gave her Bubbie the biggest hug. Then Bubbie said, “One for you and one for Daniel. My two favorite children in the whole world.” Bubbie would light two extra candles for her grandchildren.

Rachel helped feed all the animals before Shabbat began. Then she went upstairs with Bubbie to get all dressed up for this special dinner. Friends were coming. Food was ready. The table was gorgeous. Now it was their time. Bubble baths with great smelling bubbles, hair brushed and twisted into a braid like the challah, and her pink dress with the little roses. Bubbie wore a yellow one, the color of the inside of the challah. Down the stairs they walked, while Zaddie waited at the bottom with “don’t my two girls look beautiful tonight!” With a hug and kiss for each.

It was time for Shabbat. First they covered their heads and then Bubbie lit the candles. She and Bubbie moved their hands three times in a circle and covered their eyes to say the blessing over the candles. Rachel peeked at her new candles! She could see the golden light of Shabbat peeking through her fingers. “Baruch ata adonai, elohaynu melech haolom, asher kidishonu, b’mitzva tov vitzevonu lihadlick ner shell Shabbat.” “Amen,” everyone joined in chorus.

Bubbie asked Rachel to close her eyes and asked, “Rachel Dear, do you ever miss Shabbat in New Hampshire?” Then she told the story of a man that left his town in Romania traveling far away from his family and his home.

So far away that he got lost and couldn’t find the way back. And the man cried lonely tears with his heart breaking. The next Shabbat God sent an angel to this lonely man with

a special silver goblet of red wine. The angel asked the man if he truly missed his family and his home. The man began to cry. The angel told the man to close his eyes and remember his home and his family. Then the angel blessed the wine, put his finger in the wine and touched the man’s eyelashes. The angel reminded the man that anytime you want to be with those you love, all you have to do is close your eyes and touch your eyelashes with a drop from the Kiddish cup. The man was so pleased with what the angel had taught him, that he searched for the path back to Romania, home to those he loved. And finding the way back to those he loved, he found he wasn’t lonely anymore.

Then Bubbie put her finger in the kiddish cup and touched Rachel’s eyelashes. Then Bubbie said, “So Shayna Poonim (pretty face), when you go back to New Hampshire, if you miss our Shabbat in the desert, just close your eyes, touch your eyelashes with your little fingers, and as if by magic you’ll be here with us.” Rachel smiled the biggest smile and everyone at the table closed their eyes, touched their eyelashes and remembered.

Dinner was wonderful, especially the challah and the soup with knadlech. After Bubbie and Zaddie tucked her in bed, Rachel closed her eyes, took her fingers, touched her eyelashes, and as if by magic she was in New Hampshire with Mom and Dad, her brother Daniel, and her puppies Emily and Woody.

Before she fell asleep, Rachel said the “Shy’ma” asking God to bless everyone in New Hampshire, everyone in Arizona, everyone in the whole wide world, and all the angels who come to earth and share wonderful stories about eyelashes and magic.

The End

Special Words:

Bubbie = Grandmother

Zaddie = Grandfather

Hashem = Lord

Baruch Hashem = Bless the Lord

Kelev = dog

Challah = egg bread

Knadlech = dumplings

Shabbat = Saturday

Kiddush Cup = cup filled with wine

Sabra = native born Israeli/fruit of the prickly pear cactus

Shy’ma = Hebrew prayer

Base Camp

Sara Fryd — Thu, 19 Aug 2010 07:11:00 +0000

You asked for someone

To make base camp with

So we could climb mountains

And I had never

Climbed to the third floor

Of the building where I lived

Let alone Kilimanjaro with a man

You offered courage, strength

Songs as slow as molasses sap

Running from a tree in a cup

Joy, rich as dark chocolate melting

Melting in a pan

Heating with cinnamon and milk

I heard saxophone music playing

Wafting down

Somewhere from the third floor

And I was certain I might need

To learn to climb stairs

After all

Starbucks Robert

Sara Fryd — Wed, 18 Aug 2010 07:11:42 +0000

By now everyone has heard of the phrase “pay it forward,” or “random acts of kindness.” In the vernacular, it has come to mean basically doing a random act of kindness now that will lead to another random act of kindness later in a place called the future. Like donating blood to the Red Cross, donating food to the Community Food Bank, taking clothes to a thrift store so they can keep the profits. You are never sure who gets the benefit, though you really don’t need to know the benefactor.

Early every morning I take the dogs for a walk at a park in Tucson. The parks vary depending on the monsoon or how many cardboard doggy bags I still have left in the car. Today we were on our way to Udall Park because it’s wet outside and they have regular cement sidewalks so the inside of my Subaru will not get as dirty as usual.

Hey, let’s stop at Starbucks for coffee goes the brain with a mind of its own. Even at 7:30 am it’s too hot to leave the dogs in the car, so I use the drive thru option at the Starbucks on the corner of Speedway and Wilmot (they have a drive thru so the car’s air conditioning keeps everyone cool). We’ve been out of town, so no cream, no coffee, fridge is empty. I order an apple fritter, a Grande coffee with half a cup of cream, and a Venti ice water to go. When I get to the window I take out a $5.00 bill and hand it to Hess, the Starbuck’s employee who says, “Robert already paid for you.”

I look at him surprised thinking April Fool’s and he tells me that Robert, who drives a black BMW, comes by every morning for a cup of coffee and a roll always paying for the car behind him. Hess would not take my money so I left him a very large tip.

And Robert if your listening, there’s a children’s book in a large manila envelope with your name on it with Hess at the Starbuck’s at Speedway and Wilmot. Come pick it up at your convenience and thank you so very much.

Military-Industrial-Complex

Sara Fryd — Tue, 17 Aug 2010 07:11:04 +0000

My brother Moishe wondered out loud a lot and wasn’t shy about letting anyone know how he felt about anything. He told the entire family that I had sold out to the military-industrial complex. Law school had ended, I hadn’t passed the California Bar, the divorce was final, and we were living on $200 a month, with rent at $180 plus what I could earn clerking at Pomona Superior Court and whatever law office needed a temp that week. Don’t ask me how I raised a son by myself; with virtually no financial assistance from his Father, I wondered about that enough every time I checked the final settlement agreement. Wondered about that every time I bought groceries, but I wanted the divorce. Adulthood hit me in the face like an 18-wheeler.

I was always really good at earning lots of money. I just didn’t believe that I deserved to keep it for very long. General Dynamics offered me a $16,000 annual salary with vacation pay and health insurance. It’s what we desperately needed. June of 1978, I thought I had won the lottery. My friends were making less than $7,000 as starting teachers. It may not have offered me the opportunity to be a litigator in a courtroom like Perry Mason, but it was solid work and paid well. The light was shinning at the end of the tunnel and I didn’t need glasses to see it. I started my career negotiating contracts and never looked back. I was making double most of my law school classmates who were clerking for $4.00 to $7.00 an hour with no benefits.

In 1978, professional women with credentials under 35 were just getting started (Helen Reddy’s “I Am Woman“still playing in my head). The interview was over three hours. My resume was heavy on the education, light on work experience. At the end of three hours, when asked why I didn’t have more experience, frustrated and exasperated I blurted out “How do I get experience when no one will hire me.” I have found that most times the truth isn’t anything most people want to hear, though in this case I started four days later as Jack Peterson’s new contract administrator. Seems that General Dynamics was under a Federal injunction to hire women and my resume said J.D.

Men and I have always had strained relationships, except when it came to work. And though I didn’t pay attention to life’s details back then like I do now, God was sending me a test. A really big test. I love men, they love me, then the deserving part kicks in, and I find a reason to bale. General Dynamics was a test. When you really don’t believe you deserve something, you may receive it from the universe, but you will always manage to find a way to screw it up.

Monday I come to work early all dressed in my new business suit – white slinky blouse with bow tie in front, black pencil skirt (tight, nothing has changed in the eighteen years since high school), black hose, and black stilettos (4”, Carrie would be proud). Drug screening, paperwork, secret clearance paperwork, details, details and even more details this was a DOD facility. I am walked to Jack Peterson’s office we chat and I laugh appropriately at the right times, and have the blushing at the right time down on queue. I’m a girl aren’t I? He takes me from his office to my desk in the Contract Administration bullpen, a room the size of half a Home Depot. There are three rows of Navy desks, all dark gray and newly repainted. My desk is in the center of the room. “Thank you, Mr. Peterson.” I sit down to start my new job and pick up the phone to call my first customer and look up.

Men I am in a sea of men. Men in the right row, men in the left row, and men in my row with me in the middle – every color, every race, every size. Except for the secretary, I am the only female in the room. OMG, what am I going to do? Punt, my brain always kicks in first. Smile Sara smile, blush Sara blush, drool Sara drool…what am I wearing to work tomorrow?

Essence of Human Relationships

Sara Fryd — Sun, 15 Aug 2010 07:11:36 +0000

Ram Dass tells a story about a man rowing on a lake high in the mountains in fog so thick you can’t see your fingers unless you hold them right in front of your eyes. While he is rowing, he runs into something, probably another boat. He starts yelling loudly, “Watch where you’re going. Can’t you see I’m rowing here? You must be blind, you’re not paying any attention to where you’re going.” No sound, except for his oars in the water. No one arguing back, no name calling, nothing but silence. Only the oars in the water in rhythm. Soon the fog lifts and the man sees there is no one in the other boat; the one he collided with. The other boat is empty just floating on the lake. Ram Dass says “that’s the essence of all human relationships.”

Je Suis Monet

Sara Fryd — Sat, 14 Aug 2010 12:46:55 +0000

I paint in hues of wedgwood dust

On a canvas of sandy beaches

Freshly packed by gentle waves

Under sunlit skies of gold and tangerine.

I paint in shades of ochre dim

Of turned earth, wet with polka-dotted rain

And ivory gray striped yellow leafed trees

With letter carved hearts remembering.

I paint at dawn in bluish pinks, in lavender stroked

Lit horizons that blanket saguaros, prickly pear, yuccas

In quilts of puce, lime in lieu of emerald green, and

Violet boulders peaking ’round corners to nowhere.

Where I can see forever…

Painting broad brush strokes…

Forever nourishing my soul…

Because I love, because I need, because I can…

Dancing With Angels

Sara Fryd — Fri, 13 Aug 2010 07:11:39 +0000

Red is a color worn by others. Haven’t worn red since Howard left in ‘92 and I moved to back to Phoenix. So I haven’t a clue what made me buy a dark red Ralph Lauren shirt and tank top yesterday morning. Maybe it was the incredible sale at Dillards or I had to have one in each color as fall and winter are approaching and I’m never going to find another sale like this in my lifetime.

My friend Melinda thinks I spend too much time by myself, so she’s been planning many events in hopes I’ll say “yes” to one or another. Usually, I arrive a few minutes late and often leave early. Don’t like crowds much and it’s too hot to be outside. Let’s go to La Encantada Saturday night and hear the flamenco music special event put on but GOVAC. Yeah, right, what little cigarettes have you been smoking? Jazz maybe… flamenco never! Okay, I give; I’ll meet you at 6:45.

Old habits die-hard, I’m late as usual and in the back row. Another favorite place when you’re pissed at life (because somehow it’s to blame for passing you by) and hiding out seems like a good solution. Can’t see far away, left my glasses at home (of course did I really want to come to the show?), besides who needs to see to hear. Pablo’s guitar music is dynamic, tickles the soul and as much as my feet want to dance, my butt stays firmly in the tiny white folding chair. So I whisper to Melinda, I’m going to try to move closer. She rolls her eyes…been here before, she’s going to bolt any minute. “Talk to you tomorrow,” she whispers.

For the next hour I’m up and down like a yo-yo (probably A.D.D. in my last life). Finally, I hide behind a plant partition close to the stage where I can see and hear everything. Red is definitely the color of the evening. While the beautiful woman in the sexy long red dress is clicking her castanets and stomping her very proper low-heeled black maryjanes, a beautiful blond little girl in a long red ruffled dress with black patent leather maryjanes is mimicking her in front of the first row. The guitar music is powerful, the tall woman stomps her feet, clicks her hands, and swings her dress showing gorgeous dancer’s legs. The little girl stomps her feet, clicks her fingers, swings her dress, and twirls her ruffles ‘round and ‘round.

I’m lost in the music, in the dancing, and in the wondering when exactly we lose the joy of twirling when everyone is looking while we are unaware of their eyes upon us. When do we become self-conscious of other’s eyes and other’s thoughts of our behavior? At what moment in time do we starting judging ourselves more than anyone else could ever judge us? Why does what “they” think matter? Who are the “they”? And why do they matter so much?

When exactly God, do we stop dancing, I wondered more like a prayer than a question. And what has to happen for us to twirl, to be 5 again, playing with an open heart? A chair opens up in the front row next to friends and I sneak over and sit invisibly still. OMG, I’m in the front row! The concert is almost over; maybe no one will notice I’m in the front row this close to the stage.

For all my desire to remain invisible, 80 year old Francis, 4 ft. tall, born in Spain, complete with walker and castanets comes over asking me to dance. Now I have two fears simultaneously going off in my head – do I get up and dance with Francis in front of several hundred strangers, making a complete fool of myself or do I turn down a little old lady who can’t dance without her walker or a partner in front of several hundred strangers.

I got up and danced with Francis (who survived the Spanish Civil War before age 11, making it to Ellis Island on a ship in 1940), letting her lead me all over the place. Within minutes half the audience was up dancing and twirling. More people dancing than sitting, when Francis turns to me, winks, and says, “I knew they’d all get up and dance.” In the midst of all those people twirling around, it occurred to me that courage is contagious. And so is joy.

What is that saying about being very careful what you ask for? Sometimes God listens to me a lot closer than I suspect I think he does. Last night God listened to my heart, because if he had been listening to my head, he would have heard all that grumbling about last row, heat outside, and why did I leave those darn glasses at home. He would have heard my brain telling me to sit still before Melinda told me to leave cause I was driving her crazy. This time though, my heart won out, that is why God sent me two angels, one 5 and one 80 to teach me again to dance and twirl not caring who’s watching.

Howard Hummingbird

Sara Fryd — Wed, 11 Aug 2010 19:54:53 +0000

There was a little boy who lived down the street from us when I was growing up that used to love to hang from tree limbs and anything else he could climb up. He would wrap his legs around a limb or a pole on a Jungle Jim hanging upside down so he could see things no one else could see. His Mom and Dad would run outside to see if he was all right and he would laugh and laugh and laugh. They looked silly upside down. Then he would pull himself right side up, climb down, and run off to find another tree to tackle.

One day Mom came outside to get the mail in front of the house and Howard was hanging from the roof awning over the front porch. “I swear,” she said. “You’re a hummingbird! Again, hanging upside down treading air with your pretend cardboard camera. What are you taking pictures of now?” Howard giggled because his shirt fell down and Mom tickled his belly button.

He whispered, “Come here. Quiet Mom, look over there. Look, it’s a bird’s nest! Can you hear the baby birds? The mom went to get some worms. Don’t scare them. They are so little. Can you hear them squeaking? Did I sound like that when I was a baby?”

“Just a little,” Mom laughed remembering baby Howard learning to walk bending over looking at her upside down through his little legs. Nothing’s changed she thought. “But I didn’t make you eat worms.” Howard laughed quietly; just another day with Howard upside down with his pretend camera.

That night after Howard went to bed with his cardboard camera instead of a stuffed animal, Mom and Dad were sitting on the couch talking, watching TV. “Do you think we should get Howard a bicycle? Or maybe a baseball glove and ball. Naomi, what does Howard want for his birthday,” Dad asked? “I would like to get him something special since he did so well in third grade last year.”

“He’s going to be nine years old. I think he’s old enough to have a real camera,” Naomi smiled at David.

On Sunday Grandma and Grandpa came over early for dinner. Howard asked them to come out in the backyard so he could shoot pretend pictures with his cardboard camera. Of course, they played along sitting in the chairs smiling and making faces at the camera. Howard said, “Wait a minute, let me climb up and get a better shot of you guys.” Up the tree limb went Howard hanging by his legs, upside down as usual, treading air just like his favorite hummingbird that came to drink from the hummingbird feeder every day.

While they were all outside, Mom and Dad snuck out of the house and went to the camera store and bought Howard his very own real camera. A grown up one with a lens he could put on for taking close ups of bugs, crickets, dragonflies, or baby birds. It even had its own strap for hanging over one’s shoulder or on the nearest tree limb. The clerk at the store put all the special pieces, the lens, and the camera in a camera bag; then in a box and wrapped it in beautiful paper with a bow for Howard’s birthday.

The next Saturday Naomi and David had a big birthday party for Howard’s ninth birthday. The whole neighborhood was invited (including me). All these years later I remember the cake looked like a chocolate camera and Howard hanging upside down from a tree limb in the backyard taking a picture of the hummingbird that came to visit a little boy’s birthday.