[Elle Bruno]

FAMILY THRIFT
Lisa Schapiro Flynn

Our German grandmother cleared dinner plates
from under our forks in her rush
to spirit each left chicken bit to its
requisite Tupperware, each yellow and brown-
patterned dish to the stainless sink.
My parents’ kitchen every evening empty
of parents, holding only two sisters,
one gray-haired grandmother, her
knobbled fingers touching, saving
everything. Housedress layered over
her loud, collared shirt, hauled from 1967,
unmatched darned socks (one to ankle,
one to knee), she barely reached five feet,
our elf of thrift. (She could have hung
a clothesline for all the Zip-Locs
she dried and reused until they looked like
sea debris, full of salt and pinholes.)
She wasted nothing, would cut the rot
from peach flesh, and, when mold had overtaken fruit,
eat it anyway. She’d huck the leftover bread
off the back deck for the birds.
When she died, we found her closet filled with boxes
within boxes - like Russian dolls - and within those dusty boxes,
stacks of crackling photos, letters in German,
from her family, lost in the Holocaust.
Of course she saved everything she could.
She’s eleven years gone and sometimes I think
I can hear the old, lost plums in my own fridge
calling for her to save them.

[Andrew Mandelbaum]

This made me miss my own Grandma though I was so young and the memories not clear and wonder-filled like this piece.
The parent's kitchen empty of parents. I simply like this piece as it is.
Maybe the over familiar Russian doll bit dragged a touch but its fairly used there.
I suppose I am no help as a critic here. More of a fan.

[Richard Meyer]

A lot of rich detail in this poem. I like it when a poem lets sharp images carry the reader to feelings and thoughts and underplays editorial comment.

In the line She’d huck the leftover bread/off the back deck for the birds, I want to read the word chuck instead of huck, but there's something appealing about the unusualness of huck. It seems to be a made-up word, and sort of gives a flavor of the grandmother's broken English, perhaps.

I really like the ending with the plums.

This is a well-crafted character sketch that gives us both a well-drawn individual and a glimpse of something larger in humanity.

Richard

[Elle Bruno]

Hi Lisa,
Yes, such a nice rollicking character study.
I love how the granddaughters know more about this woman than even the parents (parents' kitchen empty of parents is perfect).
You have captured that odd force grandparents have, in spite of having no power or maybe because of having no power.

You know, I wouldn't change anything.
I like the wordiness. I like the layering of details.
I like the weirdness.
I even like the word 'huck' (which the Urban Dictionary defines as 'chuck' but Bubba wasn't a hip-hop artist, was she? Ha!)
Mostly, I like that mention of the Holocaust comes late in the poem- not like a raised flag of explanation
but more of a sad recognition. Of course....

Really nice job, Elle

[dorianne laux]

Hi Lisa- I so agree with everyone about this poem. It's so simple and direct and devoid of the "poetic". I've heard the word "huck" used to describe tossing a bail of hay, "hucking bails". I guess I prefer that to chuck which I think of as "casting off" or "throwing away". The huck has a "heavy" feeling to it, like those bails. A small thing, but a good, subtle use of word choice. So much to admire here, those "loud" collars, "knobbled" fingers instead of the more usual "gnarled." The line about the Russian dolls that Andrew mentioned could be pared down to read:

When she died, we found her closet filled with boxes
inside dusty boxes - like Russian dolls - and within,
stacks of crackling photos, letters in German,
from her family, lost in the Holocaust.

It creates a nice little rhyme scheme as well--boxes/Holocaust,within/German. My logical mind actually has a problem with the literal image here in that if the boxes hold other boxes, nested as tight as Russian dolls are nested, there would be little room for photographs, except in the smallest box. I also replaced the first "within" with "inside" so as not to make an unintended repetition, though it may not be the best word. So, maybe a rethinking of that image altogether is required to make it fully work for you. "Our elf of thrift". Terrific! --d

[John Riley]

Not much to add but more praise. While I agree with Dorianne's revision of the Russian doll lines, I love how the dolls underscore the reference to the Holocaust. I saw casket inside of casket, or unburied body on unburied body, in the image. And how the food thriftiness suggests once being hungry. I remember relatives who went through the Great Depression and how focused they were on having enough food.

Brilliant. Lovely poem.

[Alex Pepple]

Lovely poem, Lisa. I love the rich details. I think you can cut this line near the end "Of course she saved everything she could", and tighten/strengthen even further. It's already quite clear she saves everything -- no need over-telling it!

...Alex

[Maryann Corbett]

Originally Posted by Alex Pepple

Lovely poem, Lisa. I love the rich details. I think you can cut this line near the end "Of course she saved everything she could", and tighten/strengthen even further. It's already quite clear she saves everything -- no need over-telling it!

Alex, this might be worth a bit of discussion. I found the restatement of "saved" valuable just there. After we read the words "lost in the Holocaust," the word "saved" takes on a different connotation--of rescue, rather than simple preservation or even hoarding, with the rescued things standing in for the people who couldn't be rescued. For me, the line wasn't mere repetition but re-visioning.

[Andrew Mandelbaum]

The line struck me as it did Maryann.

[Alex Pepple]

Hi Maryann, on additional reading (i.e. careful instead of quick!), I do see it. I stand corrected!

...Alex