Poems honor marriages, friends not forgotten

 
Two years ago I began this blog to show us more about Harry’s life through his left-behind writings. In this post, we see yet more colorful memories from his personal files! When our family lived in Greenbelt, MD, 1949-1963, my parents made lifelong friends with many dozens of families. Those were pioneering days in the government’s experimental community outside of D.C. I’ve reunited with some of the “children” of those families as our parents have aged and passed away. I dedicate the following four poems – a few of likely hundreds – to them, and to all the other Greenbelt “kids” out there.





Aug. 22, 1993
To Irene and Sid Spector on their 50th Anniversary

Marriages, the sages say, are made in Heaven, every day,
But this I say, for what it’s worth, a few good ones are made on Earth.
At least, my friends, they used to be, when we were all still young and free,
And each man chose himself a wife, to have and hold throughout his life,
And every woman gave her heart until, they said, ‘death us do part’.
So pass the word around the nation, educate each generation,
While we, the older ones, you know, who hit our fiftieth long ago,
Celebrate again tonight with someone else who did it right.

These newlyweds, this pair of clowns, who spread good cheer with smiles, not frowns,
This marriage is a great success, a miracle, no more, no less,
Because they worked to make it good, they didn’t have to knock on wood.
The Spectors, Irene and her Sid, if anyone did good, they did.
For after all is said and done, they have more friends than anyone,
They share their love with all their friends, their friendship knows no bounds or ends,
They set the pattern and the form for love that’s genuine and warm,
Their love, a source of pride and pleasure, their friendship all of us can treasure.

So here’s a word of sound advice that bears repeating once or twice,
To keep all couples on their toes, and we all need this, heaven knows,
Love is just like bread, they say, it must be made fresh every day,
So each day make your bread anew, and each day love each other, too.
And if we all keep love’s sweet score, we might survive for fifty more!


Nov. 1, 1992
To Fran and Jack Sanders on their Golden Wedding Anniversary

The Year was 1942, and all throughout the land,
Our generation danced to music played by each Big Band,
When Benny was the King of Swing, on boxes called a juke,
And Basie was a royal Count, and Ellington a Duke,
When Harry James and Miller, Glenn, the Dorseys, Sammy Kaye,
All taught us how to jitterbug, and how to swing and sway.
Sinatra sang the songs of love, and so did Crosby, Bing,
And all of us knew all the words and helped the singers sing,
Sweet music filled the airwaves every night and every day,
And we could name each major band when it began to play.

Oh, we were all so very young, the world was younger, too,
When Jack and Frances found a love that stayed forever true.
And so these two got married, by a local judge, at first,
Which wasn’t really proper then, but that was not the worst,
To consummate the marriage Sanders’ Grandma made them wait,
For a Chuppa and a Rabbi who could bless their wedded state.
With their mutual commitment made, for better or for worse,
Then Greenbelt afterwards became their hometown universe,
And here they raised two kids with love, and made their home secure,
And here they made a host of friends whose friendships still endure.     

And then, as it was preordained, believe this, friends, or not,
The Sanders both were doubly blessed – six grandkids were begot!
Well, fifty years have now gone by as quickly as a wink,
It seems they’ve hardly had a chance to turn around or blink,
And both of them are older now, and wiser, so they say,
But deep inside they’re still as young as they were yesterday.
With family and friends around for them to be among,
The love that lives within their hearts will always keep them young!
So here’s to Fran and Jack tonight, and to their family,
And here’s to all our children, friends, our immortality!


Jan. 7, 1983
To Jack Sanders on his Retirement

He has made his final call upon each liquor store and bar,
And now he’ll have some time to spend in cleaning out his car!
He will have more time for golfing and for treating Fran with style,
Which will surely keep her smiling for at least a little while!

He’s achieved a reputation as a connoisseur of wine,
He knows which brands are bad or good and which are really fine,
But now that he’s retiring he no longer has to drink it,
He doesn’t have to sample it or sip it, let them sink it.

So now he’s free to switch from wine and learn to savor beer,
For beer has many properties that bring about good cheer,
And beer makes better lovers, I would wager you or bet,
And you may take my word on that, but please don’t ask Jeanette!

Now we all can raise our glasses in a sweet retirement toast,
To a guy with more admirers than most of us can boast,
May all the many years ahead be happy and carefree,
And may funds continue flowing into Social Security!


Feb. 15, 1975
To Ratzkin, Shinderman and Pines on their 60th Birthday

Now if anyone had told us just a year ago today,
That we all would here be gathered from our homes so far away,
We’d have laughed at them and asked if they had lost their foolish minds,
Yes, but here we are to honor Ratzkin, Shinderman and Pines!

And all of us have traveled here from near and far away,
To celebrate and dedicate this most auspicious day,
To sing our Happy Birthday songs, those well-remembered lines,
For three good men named Shinderman, and Ratzkin, too, and Pines!

We have shared so much together, through so very many years,
Both our simchas and our sorrows, both our triumphs and our tears,
We have shared some stormy weather, we have shared some happy times,
And now we’ll share your birthdays, Ratzkin, Shinderman and Pines!

And each one in attendance, by his presence in this place,
Is expressing his affection with a special touch of grace,
Just attending is expressing all the love that you have in ya,
For it proves how much we care for Ratzkin, Shinderman and Pinya!

So here’s to number sixty, just in case you’re keeping score,
And here’s to all the years ahead, at least as many more,
And here’s to birthday greetings, in a poem that really rhymes,
And here’s to all the friends of Ratzkin, Shinderman and Pines!

Copyright 2017, Elaine Blackman

60-year-old articles store memories of friends, town

This page is the sixth (and last) consecutive post displaying some of Harry’s editorials as a young man in Greenbelt, MD. They’ve shown me more about the history of my childhood town and my dad’s experiences there.

August 13, 1959
“The Editor’s Notebook”
(A Column of Personal Opinion)

The Ratzkins are moving. Jack and Edith, whose two children were born here, went to school here, and grew up here, have sold their house and now they’re leaving Greenbelt. They have a lot of friends and a lot of good memories here. Jack brought one of those memories, in concrete form, over to me the other day to place in the News Review archives along with the great wealth of historical material we are saving for posterity.

It seems that back in 1940, before any of the present churches in Greenbelt were built, all of the various religious groups in town got together with a unique project in mind. It was their thought that possibly the people of Greenbelt could build one big church with an individual chapel for each faith and a common meeting room-auditorium for their social affairs. Imagine the Baptists, Catholics, Jews, Lutherans, Methodists, and Congregationalists together under one roof. This would indeed be a House of the Lord. Though it didn’t actually materialize, it is a tribute to the faith and imagination of our early residents that they even thought of it. In fact, it went even further than the thinking stages. Jack, who is a man of many talents (you should hear him sing), was assigned to draw up the plans for the proposed building. While cleaning out his attic preparatory to moving he ran across these old blueprints and decided to donate them to the News Review.

The blueprints suggest a very impressive building. It would have been the first of its kind in the country, perhaps even in the world, and it came mighty close to happening. The reasons why it didn’t happen are vague, although Jack thinks there are still some old-timers around who might remember, and who might be willing to enlighten us. Are there? Anyway, it all proves to me that Greenbelt is an interesting and wonderful place to live.

By the way, lots of people are moving these days. If you run across any interesting historical material while cleaning out your attics, don’t throw it away. Give it to the News Review. And don’t throw away your old books either. We’re building up quite a library in our office, and everybody is invited to come down any Tuesday evening to see our collection.

September 10, 1959
“The Editor’s Notebook”
(A Column of Personal Opinion)

I heard an interesting item on a TV newscast the other night. A man was waiting at the corner for the light to change so he could cross the street, but when the light changed a car pulled up and stopped all the way across the white line, directly in his path. He could have walked around the front of the car or around behind the car, but this pedestrian was not an ordinary guy. No sir. He was an independent thinker, and he was tired of automobiles blocking the crosswalks, so he walked up the right fender, across the hood and down the left fender. This was a brave thing to do, and I admire him for it; but unfortunately, the driver of that car was an off-duty policeman, and he didn’t take too kindly to a pedestrian challenging the supremacy of a vehicle, so he arrested the poor guy. And do you know, the judge fined that pedestrian $25.00 for malicious destruction of property!

I think that judge made a mistake. He had a perfect opportunity to reaffirm the dignity of the individual in our society and to assert man’s superiority over the machine. He had a perfect opportunity to put some teeth behind those white lines, to demonstrate that they apply both to people and to vehicles. After all, I have seen policemen give tickets to jaywalkers for failing to cross the street between the white lines. Why shouldn’t they give tickets to the cars which stop directly athwart the white lines? This could be the subject of a real crusade. But that judge capitulated, and he set the cause of personal freedom and liberty back at least fifty years. Maybe he figured it would be bad for automobile sales if the pedestrian won the case, since the economy of the whole country is so closely tied in with the automobile industry. Ah well, I suppose this is the price we pay for progress. But if I were that judge, I’d have handled it differently, wouldn’t you?

* * *

A few months ago I started taking piano lessons from a remarkable young man named Martin Berkofsky. All my life I’ve wanted to learn how to play the piano. Those of us who grew up during the thirties will never forget those depression years and how tight the money situation was. Even so, a lot of kids were able to take piano lessons then, but I was not one of them. So you see, I’m really just a frustrated concert pianist – a virtuoso, if you please. All I lack is knowledge, training and talent. What’s more, I don’t practice as much as I should, and sometimes I don’t see how Martin puts up with me. But then, as I said before, he is a remarkable young man.

If you’ve been reading the News Review over the years you’ve probably seen his name many times, giving a recital here and a recital there and generally playing around (piano, of course) quite frequently. He has also distinguished himself in other ways – as a winner of science awards in school, for example, and as an authentic young American genius. I am old enough to be his father, and I feel a sort of vicarious paternal pride in him – at least I understand just how proud his parents must be of him, and of themselves, too, because after all they play a vital part in making him what he is. It makes me feel good to go to him for my piano lessons. He kind of restores my faith in the upcoming generation – because it makes me sad to see those bored and restless youngsters who inhabit the Center and who never seem to have anything constructive to do.

For all the bored souls, children, teenagers and adults alike, I recommend piano lessons as a release for their nervous energy and as a creative and constructive outlet. And for anyone who would like to work in the community interest, there is always a job to do on the News Review.

January 28, 1960
“The Editor’s Notebook”

It has been suggested to me that on the occasion of my departure from the editorship of the Greenbelt News Review it would be appropriate to express some final comments. The truth is, however, that I have little to say, and nothing that has not been said before. But at the risk of sounding trite, perhaps I will say a few things that have not been said recently.

As I see it, the News Review is the major unifying element within the city, the force which has done more than any other single civic activity to make a city out of a housing project. It has given Greenbelters a sense of belonging, a sense of participation, and, frequently, a feeling of pride in their community. Our object is to report the local news as fully and as accurately as possible, and if we have not always been as good as we could be, why, this is a criticism which can be leveled at any other newspaper in the country – and at every institution in the country. The point is that we are honestly striving to be better at our job all the time.

Those of us who have devoted our time and our energy to the News Review have been motivated by a genuine desire to further the best interests of our community. We believe that this is one of the best areas of civic activity, and one in which there are too few volunteers.

If I have anything to say at all, it is to urge more of our readers to participate in local activities, to contribute more of themselves in terms of time and talent for the benefit of their community. Today there is a crying need for more active participation by all sorts of people in all sorts of local organizations (and the News Review is only one of many). It is unfortunate but true, I think, that only a tiny fraction of our residents are carrying the great burdens of keeping our town going forward in all its many facets, while the vast majority too often succumb to the temptation of watching television. The community desperately needs more public spirited citizens who will work for their neighbors and for themselves toward the common goal of making Greenbelt a better place in which to live and bring up children.

And the News Review will have fulfilled its function when it succeeds not only in keeping its readers informed about local activities, but also in drawing its readers into these activities, each where he can best contribute to our common progress.

The News Review ran this story about Harry on July 14, 1960

Copyright 2017, Elaine Blackman