More than 35 years since the divorce, and no rancor, no sadness left. The past is more like an Indie movie, colorful, a bit racy, like something created by the director of Juno. The characters delude themselves but escape into happier lives relatively unscathed after all.
The only regret I hold is that S. kept my Fugs album. He's a urologist, for God's sake, what he does he need with punk anarchist rock music? On the other hand, I'm constantly singing the patches of lyrics I remember "Monday nothing/ Tuesday nothing/ Wednesday and Thursday nothing/ Friday and Saturday a little more nothing/ Nothing! Nothing! Nothing!" Repeat in Spanish and in Yiddish, in a frenzy. So cathartic!
Well, okay, there are a couple of other things I might have wanted to keep (and now I do find myself feeling a twinge of sorrow). The Eames chair, one of our few pieces of furniture, was 400 dollars the year we got married. It's worth about 5000 dollars now. I wonder if S. still owns it, or if he put it out on the sidewalk of Madison Avenue.
And the Persian figures. The first engagement gift we received was a check for a couple of hundred dollars. I went to an antique store on Second Avenue and bought a set of vases in the shape of people; lots of blue and cream, like some of the pieces you find in Amsterdam antique stores. It was an impractical choice on my part, not the only one I've made. The little store seemed magical, filled with objects once prized by Old World sailors. And the objects seemed to hold genies, to make promises.
What did he tell his second wife about the implausible Persian figures?
They were a little bit ugly.
I really miss that Fugs album, though. Ginsberg's dead, Tuppy Kupferberg's dead (he's the Fug who jumped from the Brooklyn Bridge and lived).
Letting go of the Fugs would take a more spiritually advanced person than myself.
Causes Marilyn Kallet Supports
Southern Poverty Law Center, US Holocaust Memorial Museum, ACLU, Amnesty International, Save Darfur.