Memory Keeper's Daughter

As research for my Down But Never Out bio of former middleweight champion, Joey Giardello and his Down syndrome son, Carman, I watched Memory Keeper's Daughter. The movie based on a book by Kim Edwards tells the story of a doctor who gives away his new-born baby daughter when he sees that she has Down syndrome. He tells his wife the baby died and they go on with their life raising the "normal" twin boy. I read the book some time ago and now must read again. It was based on a true story told to the author. Watch or read it and be prepared to cry.

My wife need jewelry

A thought:

My wife needs jewelry
By Charlie Redner

My wife needs jewelry
But not like food and air.
No, no the wants much stronger there.
Her line between need and the desire
is infinitely closer than flame is to fire.

She follows the impulse to trade
or swapped the pin that somehow failed to inspire,
to exchange some earrings might be required.
A bracelet, a necklace, a ring or two
replaces the ones that now no longer do.

Will the search for gold and silver,
diamonds and pearls, ever cease?
This spouse can only hope that need and desire,
are distinguished some day,
one from the other, before we go broke, or I expire.

An eastern city man arrived in Old Pueblo

An eastern city man arrived in Old Pueblo to speak.
Will you read on if I utter what he professed to be,
or, least we judged, not to be?
I’ll take the chance -- a poet.

His name sounded like a south sea island,
Maui, or Bali, ahhh, no, no -- Mali.
Now, Mister Mali was a Letterman, more in the mode of the nighttime host than the singers or a campus jock.

His letters though, formed words that arrived in specific order.
An order that held one’s attention bound, bound as tightly as a body wrapped with duct tape smeared in super glue.

Words that moved -- or not.
Words that spun fasterthanSupermantryingtosaveLois,
where they arrived in a flash only to ricochet ‘round the head.
Words that -- c r a w l e d - in - s l o w - m o t i o n -- penetrating your mind a Technicolor, animated, Cinemascope, surround-sound, four-hour feature film.

On the spot he wrote a piece about a tractor guy,
then spoke of his Dad, the Yalie, who never attended the Ivy Tower of bushy presidents,but organized the keys to his glorious own universe.

Dining one night, Mali mentioned to his host how much he made teaching,while at the same time enlightening the clod how little -- money mattered when making a difference.

He told about tapping his dog on the snout, tough Love,
then heaping praise on a silly Lilly.
She a flower of an eighth-grade child who couldn’t,
but finally did, like, make up her mind.

Mali’s story about the student whose spell checker failed to correct and even added to the mess the boy made of his report entitled, A Tail of Two Tities, produced more unbridled laughter than the best-crafted,
perfectly delivered Leno monologue.

If, by chance, you were there -- you know of what I speak.
If not, then you may never appreciate this sentiment:
I just loved you, Taylor Mali. Thank you for sharing you.

And thanks, Society of Southwestern Authors for inviting an eastern city man to the Old Pueblo -- to thrill.