IMPROPER REVERENCE
In my family whatever was not understood
was mocked with malapropisms
mispronunciations and bad puns.
A DeSoto became a DeSoda
as if to reduce the sense of envy
of something unaffordable to simply pretentious
through reductive ruin.
It was infuriating of course
and intentionally so: to engird the world
by making fun of it.
If I came to an aunt's house with a book
on the Battle of Gettysburg
they talked instead, snickering,
of the Battle of Gettinburg
like he was the zhlub who lived
in the next building and
swept out the furnace one step
ahead of the coal delivery man.
That to this day I remember such silliness
speaks to what is silly in me, the lack
of respect for what is anything but carnal:
the tedious jokes about Jesus on the Cross
on Christmas morning being regaled by
snotty Jewish kids saying "Smile, bubele,
it's your birthday," forcing us to learn a respect
we might never acquire and, having done so,
to question it unendingly as an unwanted
kiss on your cheek from that same aunt
who boiled all the food and screamed
at your uncle while he sat in the kitchen
smoking another cheap cigar.
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Ken Wolman http://awfulrowing.wordpress.com/
"All writers are hunters, and parents are the most available prey."
--Francine du Plessix Gray
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