Ira

 He is my my friend, my husband, the wonderful father to my children. We have been married for forty-six years, and I have grown to admire him more each day, as I come to deeply understand his kindness and compassion. My joke is he should be made the director of Health and Human Services in the new adminstration because he would consistently help and never harm people. The joke is he would never be asked, nor would he ever work for such a corrupt adminstration. He has an extraordinarily strong moral compass and integrity.

     HERE IS MY POEM FOR IRA: View from the Bridge, Eastside Manhattan, 36th Floor

The bridge

of kindness

you've built

with patients

even when there's no money

to pay you;

the water

too cold to swim in

(you never swim in cold water)

but in June

you plunged

in the pool

since your six-year old grandson

was waiting

for his Pop-pop;

Pop-pop

one of the words Jake speaks

said loud and clear

as does nine year old Ella.

Pop-pop

a prayer

a psalm

to the small building

surrounded by many toweing ones--

the man

you may notice,

but brick by brick

tile by tile

has given us a fortress

(we, his family),

so the bridge may fall

the river may flood

fears may ferment

from a world

we never expected to turn so ugly,

but Ira

is there

and nothing else matters