AUNT
HILDA AFTER UNCLE BUD
Elizabeth
Zelvin
they
were adorable together
the
love of each other’s lives
she
shocked her family by marrying out
not
Jewish? it wasn’t done
his
were bluebloods who thought he married down
his
sisters never spoke to him again
no
one expected robust, handsome Bud
exotic
as a lumberjack in our flock
of
New York Jewish intellectuals
to
go
in his sixties. But life goes on
Aunt
Hilda travels with other widows
joins
a health club, takes up tennis
at
eighty she acquires a boyfriend
crazy
about her but not the family’s style
he
keeps
mentioning his Lexus
when
she drops a glass, he makes fun of her in Yiddish
two
strikes against him
she
doesn’t want his presence interfering
with
her foursome for doubles or her women’s group
he
says, I want a wife who will take care of
me
strike
three and he's out
at
ninety-two Hilda finds love again
she
an old Commie, he a Quaker
both
tried to make the world a better place
she
lives with disappointment, he with hope
he
takes her dancing
I
can’t help asking, So do you make love?
and
she says, Sometimes
they're
still playing doubles on her hundredth birthday
with
another long-lived couple
Any special rules? I ask
Just one—no one runs for the ball
pressed
to choose one trait to which she attributes
a
long and happy life, she says a
sense of humor
at
101 she tops it with resilience
Elizabeth Zelvin is the
author of two books of poetry, I Am the Daughter (1981) and Gifts and Secrets (1999), and recipient of a CAPS
award from the New York State Council on the Arts. During the Second Wave of
the women's movement, her work was widely published in such journals as 13th Moon, Heresies, and the anthology Sarah's Daughters Sing.
Recent poems have appeared in Yellow
Mama as well as in anthologies of work about COVID and in support of
Ukraine. Liz also writes short and long form fiction, including the Bruce
Kohler Mysteries and the Mendoza Family Saga.
Elizabeth
Zelvin, multiple Derringer & Agatha awards nominee
The Bruce Kohler Mysteries
The Mendoza Family Saga
http://elizabethzelvin.com