I remember brunch with friends in Maine.
The restaurant was bright and bustling.
Van Gogh, in his straw hat,
painted his impression of September sun
on the wall. Renoir arranged the flowers
and Vermeer filled the glasses with water.
Audrey Hepburn sat on my right
and Mary Travers was on my left.
Across from us Groucho Marx was
building a house from a poker deck
and dared Jacques Derrida to draw a card.
Next to him Marie Montessori
was explaining to Martin Buber
the virtues of learning the banjo
while Eleanor Roosevelt discussed
with Ms. Hepburn the influence
of the Algonquian language on English
spoken around Poughkeepsie.
Cinnamon, buttered toast, salmon
with dill sauce, maple syrup
and strong coffee perfumed the air.
John Lennon was singing softly
as Lily Tomlin came to take our orders.
Audrey asked for an omelet.
Lily said, “Omelets come with muffins.
Do you want raspberry, blueberry or peach?”
“Yes,” was Audrey’s reply.
“Yes, what?” said the waitress in a parental voice.
“Yes, please!” said Audrey gracefully.
“It was not a question of etiquette; it’s a choice.
Do you want a muffin made with raspberry
or one with blueberry or one with peach?”
“Yes,” smiled Audrey winking at me,
“I’d like one of each.”
grew up in southern Ohio and lived in Wisconsin, South Carolina, and Maine before moving to Minnesota in 1989, all in the pursuit of a career in teaching analytical chemistry. Much of his time at work was spent writing lectures, handouts, proposals, articles, and a myriad of other communications. When time for these tasks permitted, he found the process of selecting carefully the “best words, in the best order” both effective and even satisfying. Consequently, a transition to creative writing upon retirement from teaching science was not as radical a shift as it might sound at first.
