October 19, 2002 to October 19, 2020

 Hello my dearest Carole, 

It is that time of year again. Eighteen years of missing and longing.

On the upside, Josh and Danny are chugging along, More than chuggging!

Our Danny, Daniel Abril, made it into the Miami Short Film Festival. His short The Incredibly Short Life of Peter Panties is a finalist!

Images of Danny, October 2020. Selfies.

Actual link: <https://www.miamishortfilmfestival.com/2020-program-schedule/within/#elevent>

It is taking place on the Beach next month, and he so wants us there, And I want to be there but am so frightened by Covid that we're passing. And that hurts.  

Being old in the time of Covid is mind shifting. Our adult kids are not affected as we are, and as they cautiously go  about their lives, we are near mute. I am anyway.

For us, it's a different universe. A sad and depressing one.

Sam had, and recovered, says he's 95 % back.

Nurse Celeste had, says she is fine.

Josh and Danny perhaps asymptomatic.

So far Curt and I are seemingly clear. But I am listless 24\7. The term coined "Covid fatigue." A fatigue like a pervasive exhaustion that sucks the energy right out of you.

October 11, 2020

 

There's a meaniness about grief

the way it takes

all that we have ...

Yom Kippur, 2020

Oh Carole, tonight is Yom Kippur and I forgot, that's how crazy things are here with Covid. And politics. 

We remember all who came before and I am missing you terribly. 

Sam and Will are stopping by for pizza tonight, very last minute. 

I just texted Danny. From South Beach he wrote back "we were lucky to have her [you] for the time that we did." Oh, Carole ...now tears welling down my cheeks. 

Celeste could make it Friday, so we will have the kids here then, for pizza outside... Josh, Danny, Sam, William, Celeste and am so hoping Miguel, too. Plus me, Hope, and Curt. We've shrunk! 

A reworking of the High Holidays this Friday with pizza on the patio outside: terrace dining. HA!

And you my dear sister, with me - all of us -  forever.

Sweat

Carole, 

We were so close in dreamsleep, I could smell the sweat eminating from your tanned sunburned shoulders. You in front, head turned as if looking at me behind you, like horses slowed after galloping neck to neck. Pumping air. Panting. Purring. Together.

Miami TV Producer Pivots to Producing Pies During the Pandemic

Oh Carole! You'd be tickled pink!

Way to go, Joshua.

Hawking from home, a beginning.

Cooking and baking ....

At Coconut Grove Fire Department...


There is video on youtube: so cool.....https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zrZEs4xSKRs&feature=youtu.be

July 11, 2020

Hello my Carole,

A picture of an image taken at Curt's and mine wedding 30 years ago... not the best repro, the pic of a pic taken today with a cell phone from a faded orginial. 

Did we even have cell phones in 1990? I can't recall.

Curt bought me an SE iPhone for our anniversary, I was so surprized! Should have made him breakfast in bed. 

Waiting for the phone case to arrive before transferring info and setting up. So looking forward to using it.

Curt's a truly fine guy, just grand, and hard to believe we've been married thirty years. That I am that old! That he and I old together, today also his birthday, getting married on the day of so he wouldn't forget! 


Maybe iPhone will take a better picture of the pic of a pic from a lifetime ago. Always missing you, you my other half.

PS: Florida COVID at 14% of population of those tested. Most can't get tested! FL cases top 255,000, more than 4,000 deaths and climbing. 

State of Florida is COVID WORLD CAPITAL, Miami Dade County leads the pack.

Carole Gold Encrusted

Hi Carole,

I found the kid's book Celstial Matters writeen in 1995 ot thereabouts.   It was your tool teaching for me, showing me how to write. In the same file I found this, is a bit overdone but hey, a dream.

Gold encrusted

January 18, 2011.

Greyhound Mocha was barking to be let back in and I finally arose from bed yet it wasn’t my house I was in. The hallway was painted blue directly across from my bedroom door,  blue like the sea as children would color it,  and I saw two different doggies in the house in separate bedrooms. I did not recognize either.

Then I saw movement in the closet, a wiggle under something and you emerged from underneath blankets or silk sheets and you were beautiful as if costumed for a play, a harlequin of  glittering golden powdered seashell angled across your chin, up to the tip of your cheekbone, a diagonal to your neck with a loosely strung ivory chiffon ribboned bow like a boa, a necklace against you cotton shirt: a gift.  Your body was thin and lithe as if we were seventeen-years-old.  I pulled you into the light pouring in from the window, the sunlight streaming on you  to make sure you were real and we held each other, cradled in arms, I kissed your lips and we stood and stood and stood and I kept asking you,  staring at you, to make sure it was you with the sunlight against your face highlighting the shell glitter sparking while your eyes focused over my shoulder.

From those ashes scattered in Key West into my arms, a radiant youthful you bathed in sunlight on a new dawning day.

Same Day: Antique Roadster and SpaceX

May 30, 2020

Top: Sam's and William's roadtrip to Cental Florida towing an antique car.

Underneath: SpaceX. Florida. Split image photo from TV screen. Left side. First stage of rocket landing exactly back on earth after after propelling astronaunts into space. Right. View from inside The Dragon. Speed lower left.

On the ground, COVID virus plague and civil unrest. 

Covid 19 deaths  in USA: 102, 833

Before Stars

Hi Carole, 

The www.Extralove.com site remains down, but Curt was able to retrieve a portion of text from a backup.

Before Stars

Before there were stars night was an eyeless staring

with nowhere to look leading into, unmapped by any chart

and always losing itself. Because of this, women were born,

formed from the faces of candles, gasoline lanterns, or

kerosene lights, with nothing to see looking onto,

and which night knew nothing about from its distance.

Then came their flames rising like points from their

blind spots, forming stars, which night looking out of was seen

seeing women.

Carole Leslie Marcus

Revisions of Home, Stones and Stars

Hi Carole, 

The www.Extralove.com site remains down, but Curt was able to retrieve a portion of text from a backup.

Below is a poem you wrote to Donna when her first husband died.

Untitled Revisions of home. Books on the mantel. Chair of ten years. Dust, the old thumbprints. Not unusual, this life after death. What connects all things: either habit, the daily routine that binds two people when one is gone Or an energy the survivor sits with in a dark corner talking; the spirit struggling to live through all it had known, until even these pieces of furniture seem drained, no longer practical? Answers never come. Accomplishment the acceptance of this fact – then the slow beginning of nothing familiar, changes that had never stopped coming, distance and its evidence – until like a dream of a woman being pulled back, unable to continue running, the memory rolls over gently, lifeless. Carole Leslie Marcus, 1977 Stones Dedicated to sons Joshua and Daniel Abril Either tumbled or thrown, they must learn how to fall without breaking. For them, there is always that falling, that breaking down, that struggle of a born-backward growth from boulders to stones. But first they must learn how to skid water three leaps at a time, how to assimilate as chalk on someone’s sidewalk, and how to lie, still as stones, on an old woman’s patio collecting soot and dust. While once they held the weight of the world on the tips of their shoulders, they have settled, lump backed, in community corners, waiting to turn into sand, and in that way be blown toward oblivion through the fingers of children. Carole Leslie Marcus Before Stars Before there were stars night was an eyeless staring with nowhere to look leading into, unmapped by any chart and always losing itself. Because of this, women were born, formed from the faces of candles, gasoline lanterns, or kerosene lights, with nothing to see looking onto, and which night knew nothing about from its distance. Then came their flames rising like points from their blind spots, forming stars, which night looking out of was seen seeing women. Carole Leslie Marcus Books Your books on the front porch resound of you, poetry, fertile sparse pages, all come inside. I select for your children the practical: dictionaries, a thesaurus, books about Einstein and seashells How proud you’d be as they leave for college two brothers together, you and I sisters instead We too once trounced to school, an inspiring  universe, hand in hand,  to renew ourselves in each other Listen! I hear you reading, your diction perfect,  like royalty even as your world caves in Then your children off on bicycles, or maybe worse, with questionable buddies While you struggle against the blinding white  of day, trampled bones, renegade blood  unleashed The assaults upon you unyielding, cherished echoes of family undone Bright possibilities pushed aside, until near end you find yourself again, effervescent, aglow And then you were gone, died so suddenly, and I am left with only half of myself. Hope Marcus 12 August 2003 Searching Your dawning silhouette spreads like a river through my  slotted window blinds opened each night  so the morning will find you. You come not from the obscure, disguised as footprints  along the waters edge, or as imprints on a moist grassy lawn. But from brightening horizons, your brilliance camouflaged in  sunrise and sunsets,hues of pink and orange that I cannot touch  or embrace as I comb wispy plains for a trace of you. A whisper, a breath before you again dissipate into  invisible dimensions now closed to me even though  we always travelled together to the end of our worlds. Hope Marcus, Nov. 2002