Judith Viorst: Alone

Alone I could own both sides of the double bed
And stay up reading novels half the night.

And no one would be here telling me turn off the light

And hogging the blankets.

And no one would be here saying he's taking the car

And noticing that I let the milk turn sour.

Alone I could talk long distance for an hour

And who would stop me?

Alone a hard-boiled egg could be a meal

And the living-room couch could be red, not compromise-green.

And no one would be here making me go to Queens

For family brunches.

And no one would be here brushing his teeth with my brush

And pushing the thermostat down to sixty degrees.

Alone I could give Goodwill my boots and my skis

And switch to beaches.

Alone I could give up understanding Brie,

Détente, the Superbowl, and Cousin Rose.

And no one would be here telling me which of my clothes

Make me look chunky.

And no one would be here steaming the bathroom up

And wanting his back massaged and his buttons sewn.

And no one would be here. I would be alone.

And I would hate it.

Judith Viorst: Twenty Questions

1. Can a person who used to wear a Ban the Bomb button
    And a Free Angela Davis button

    And an Uppity Women Unite button

    And a Get Out of Viet Nam button

    Find happiness being a person with a 

    Set of fondue forks, a fish poacher, and a wok?

2. Is there an economic rule that says

    No matter how much we earn and how little we spend,

    There's no such thing as getting out of hock?

3. How do I know if the time has come to

    Accept my limitations,

    Or whether I still ought to try to

    Fulfill my promise?

4. How come I'm reading articles

    With names like A Woman's Guide to Cosmetic Surgery

    More than I'm reading the poems of Dylan Thomas?

5. If I had an either/or choice

    Would I prefer to be deservedly respected,

    Or would I prefer to be mindlessly adored?

6. If we totally take the blame when our children

    Stutter and wet their beds,

    And are busted and maladjusted and drop out of school,

    Do we get to take the credit if our children

    Grow up to be brilliant, plus very nice people,

    Plus mentally healthy and chairmen of the board?

7. When, instead of vice versa,

    Did I start to pick investments over adventure,

    And clean over scenic, and comfortable over instense?

8. Why does a relationship

    Between an older woman and younger man

    Suddenly seem to make a lot of sense?

9. Why am I always buying the clothes which,

    When they first come out,

    Nothing on earth (I swear) could make me buy?

10. What are the things which,

    Even though people won't be upset (they swear)

    If I'll only admit

    I should always deny?

11. Are some human beings

    Intellectually and emotionally incapable

    Of ever reading a road map,

    Or could I still learn to?

12. If six days a week I'm resposnible 

    And self-sufficient and competent and mature,

    On the seventh could I go find a womb to return to?

13. Couldn't a person who isn't expecting

    Praise for what she's doing

    At least expect some praise for not expecting it?

14. If I think that the fellow next door

    Is attempting to give me a kiss in the kitchen,

    Am I first allowed to be kissed before rejecting it?

15. How can I learn to relate to marijuana

    And bisexuality

    When I'm more at home with The Anniversary Waltz?

16. How come I've got those increcible insights

    Into all my faults

    And I've still got my faults?

17. Why couldn't somebody tell me

    That I haven't changed since college

    Without being practically blind or

    A terrible liar?

18. Why, since I've never had any intention

    Of going out on the streets and selling my body,

    Is it hard to be reaching an age where

    I won't find a buyer?

19. How come a charter member of NOW

    Is afraid to confess to her husband

    That the first day she drove their new car

    She dented the fender?

20. How will I ever be able to tell

    If what I achieve in life

    Ought to be called serenity -- not surrender?

Judith Viorst: Adult Education

I have grown to understand that
People whose accents are British

May not be smarter than people whose accents are Bronx,

But British helps, and that

Peace of mind is more to be treasured than rubies,

But trust funds help, and that

While it's better to die on your feet than to live on your knees,

What about stooping?

I have grown to understand that

People whose best friends are rock stars

Often are duller than people whose best friends are us,

But rock stars help, and that

Inner satisfaction counts more than approval,

But clapping helps, and that

While it's better to light a candle than curse the darkness,

First you could curse.

I have grown to understand that

People whose fathers adored them

Feel just as jumpy as people whose fahters said feh,

But love helps, and that

Self-reliance is braver than being dependent,

But help helps, and that

While it's better, as everyone knows, to give than receive,

Nobody says that you always have to be

Better.

Judith Viorst: Anniversary Dinner

Whatever it is

That teases the palate,

Amuses the bouche,

Fizzes the 

champagne,

Puts the voilà in foie 

gras,

Sizzles the

chateaubriand,

Lifts the soufflé,

And makes of this 

dinner

A bit of heaven on 

earth,

Makes you the

favorite meal

Of this gourmet.

Judith Viorst: Nothing But the Truth

I made him swear he'd always tell me nothing but the truth.
I promised him I never would resent it,
No matter how unbearable, how harsh, how cruel. How come

He thought I meant it?

Judith Viorst: Three in the Morning

At three in the morning I used to be sleeping an untroubled sleep in my bed,
But lately at three in the morning I'm tossing and turning,

Awakened by hypochondria, and gas, and nameless dread,

Whose name I've been learning.

At three in the morning I brood about what my cholesterol count might reveal,

And the pains in my chest start progressing from gentle to racking,

While certain intestinal problems make clear that the onions I ate with my meal

Plan on counterattacking.

At three in the morning I reach for the bottle of pills that I seem to possess

Increasingly larger amounts of as every year passes,

Except that I can't tell the ones for my nerves from the ones for my stomach distress

Till I put on my glasses.

At three in the morning I look toward the future with blankets pulled over my ears,

And all my basic equipment distinctly diminished.

My gums are receding, my blood pressure's high, and I can't begin listing my fears

Or I'll never get finished.

At three in the morning I used to be sleeping but lately I wake and reflect

That my girlhood has gone and I'll now have to manage without it.

They tell me that I'm heading into my prime. From the previews I do not expect

To be crazy about it.

Judith Viorst: Open House

Everyone is coming to our party.
Everyone, that is, except the Stones,
Who stopped being the Stones when she tarted saying that
    the trouble with America was the CIA and the FBI and

    the exploitation of lettuce growers and Indians, and

He started saying the trouble was not enough tennis courts, but

Everyone else is coming to our party,

Everyone, that is, except the Hoyts,

Who stopped being the Hoyts when they started saying that

    just because a husband and wife are sexually unfaithful

    doesn't mean that they're being unfaithful emotionally, but

Everyone else is coming to our party,

Everyone, that is, except the Kings,

Who stopped being the Kings when she decided that

    every time she told him soemthing sensitive and deep

    he didn't get it, and

He decided that every time he told her something funny

    she didn't get it, but

Everyone else is coming to our party,

Everyone, that is, except the Youngs,

Who stopped being the Youngs when she started law school,

And he started saying the house is never clean,

And she started saying why don't you clean it yourself,

And he started saying that women should clean and

    men should go to law school, but

Everyone else is coming to our party,

Everyone, that is, except the Clarks,

Who stopped being the Clarks when she decided to seek inner peace

    through wheat germ and meditation, and

He decided to seek inner peace through Gay Lib, but

Everyone else is coming to our party,

Everyone, that is, except the Greens,

Who stopped being the Greens when they sold their house and

    moved to the country to rediscover each other, and re-

    discovered they didn't agree about garlic. Or Woody Allen.

    Or Scrabble, her father, cloth napkins, or psychoanalysis.

    Or when is the music so loud that it's giving you headaches.

    Or when is a room so ice-cold that your fingers get numb, but

Everyone else is coming to our party.

I hope we'll be there.

Judith Viorst: Leonard the Liberated Husband

Leonard the liberated husband,
Who was first on his block

With revolution,

Universal love,

Astrology,

Ecology,

And euthanasia,

Is finished with macho

And girlie magazines

And is currently

Washing dishes,

Waxing floors,

Relating to women as

Genuine human beings,

Deploring rape

And other oppressive conditions

And insisting that his wife pursue

Personhood,

Ph.D's,

Sexual bliss,

Greater respect from truck drivers,

And highly paid executive positions.

Whether she wants to,

Or not.

Judith Viorst: The Pleasures of an Ordinary Life

I've had my share of necessary losses,
Of dreams I know no longer can come true.
I'm done now with the whys and the becauses.
It's time to make things good, not just make do.
It's time to stop complaining and pursue
The pleasures of an ordinary life.

I used to rail against my compromises.
I yearned for the wild music, the swift race.
But happiness arrived in new disguises:
Sun lighting a child's hair. A friend's embrace.
Slow dancing in a safe and quiet place.
The pleasures of an ordinary life.

I'll have no trumpets, triumphs, trails of glory.
It seems the woman I've turned out to be
Is not the heroine of some grand story.
But I have learned to find the poetry
In what my hands can touch, my eyes can see.
The pleasures of an ordinary life.

Young fantasies of magic and of mystery
Are over. But they really can't compete
With all we've built together: A long history.
Connections that help render us complete.
Ties that hold and heal us. And the sweet,
Sweet pleasures of an ordinary life.

Judith Viorst: When Asked If I Thought That I'd Finally Got It Together

I had it together on Sunday.
By Monday at noon it had cracked.

On Tuesday debris

Was descending on me.

And by Wednesday no part was intact.

On Thursday I picked up some pieces.

On Friday I picked up the rest.

By Saturday, late,

It was almost set straight.

And on Sunday the world was impressed

With how well I had got it together.

But spare me the cheers and applause,

For as the world turns

Every sixty-plus learns

That among life's immutable laws

Is one that we're bound to be bound to

Right through to the end of our days:

That although we may get it together,

Together is not how it stays.

Judith Viorst: A Wedding Sonnet for the Next Generation

He might compare you to a summer's day,
Declaring you're far fairer in his eyes.

She might, with depth and breadth and many sighs,

Count all the ways she loves you, way by way.

He might say when you're old and full of sleep,

He'll cherish still the Pilgrim soul in you.

She might--oh, there are poems so fine, so true,

To help you speak of love and wows to keep.

Words help. And you are writing your own poem.

It doesn't always scan or always rhyme.

It mingles images of the sublime

With plainer words: Respect. Trust. Comfort. Home.

How very rich is love's vocabulary

When friends, dear friends, best friends decide to marry.

Judith Viorst: The Whole Truth

He always called her honey and
She always called him sweetie and

He always brought her flowers and

She always stroked his hair.

Their beautiful relationship was

What a marriage should be and

The rest of us regarded it with

Envy and despair.

She always called him lover and

He always called her baby and

She always praised his brilliance and

He always praised her wit.

No wife was more adoring and

No husband more devoted and

The rest of us were jealous I'm

Embarrassed to admit.

He always called her dearest and

She always called him darling and

He always hugged and kissed her and

She always held him tight.

They just announced they're filing for

Divorce tomorrow morning and

The news has filled the rest of us with

Absolute delight.

Judith Viorst: Eight Basic Facts about Memory

The fact that people don't stop you when you ask them to stop
    you if you've told them the story

Doesn't mean that you haven't told it before.

The fact that you're only buying a couple of items at the story

Doesn't mean that you don't need to bring a list to the story.

The fact that you've put the passports in such a safe place that

    they couldn't possibly get lost

Doesn't mean that you actually, currently know where they are.

The fact that you've parked your car carefully

Doesn't mean, when the movie is over, that you will still recall

    where you parked the car.

The fact that you rushed upstairs because there was something you

    desperately needed in your closet

Doesn't mean, once you get there, that you'll recollect why

    you came.

The fact that you've known a person for thirty-five years

Doesn't mean, when you go to introduce him, that you can count on

     remembering his name.

The fact that you said good-bye and walked out the door

Doesn't mean that you won't be back immediately in order to get

    all the things you left behind.

And the fact that ...

And the fact that ...

And the fact that, the fact that, the fact that...

It's slipped my mind.

Judith Viorst: Among Other Thoughts on Our Wedding Anniversary

Over the years,
When the sink overflowed

Or the car ran out of gas

Or the lady who comes every Tuesday to clean didn't come

Or I felt pudgy

Or misunderstood

Or inferior to Marilyn Kaufman who is not only a pediatric

    surgeon but also a very fne person as well es beautiful

Or I fell in the creek and got soaked on our first family camping trip

Or mosquitoes ate me alive on our first family camping trip

Or I bruised my entire left side on our first family camping trip

Or I walked through a patch of what later turned out to be 

    plenty of poison ivy on what later turned out to be our

    last family camping trip

Or my sweater shrank in the wash

Or I stepped on my glasses

Or the keys that I swear on my children's head I put on the top of the dresser weren't there

Or I felt depressed

Or unfulfilled

Or inferior to Ellen Jane Garver who not only teaches constitutional law

    but is also a wit plus sexually insatiable

Or they lost our luggage

Or our reservations

Or two of the engines

Or the rinse that was going to give my hair some subtle copper highlights turned out to be purple

Or my mother-in-law got insulted at something I said

Or my stomach got upset at something I ate

Or I backed into a truck that I swear when I looked in my rear-view mirror wasn't parked there

Or I suffered from some other blow of fate,

It's always been so nice to have my husband by my side so I could 

Blame him.

Judith Viorst: And Now You Want to Know If There Is Anything Good to Say about Getting Older

We aren't as self-centered as we used to be.
We're not as self-pitying--or as just plain dumb.

Middle age has come, and we find

(Along with the inability to sleep all night without

    a trip to the bathroom)

A few compensations.

We aren't as uncertain as we used to be.

We've learned to tell the real from the tinsel and fluff.

Getting old is tough, but we find

(Along with the inability to shave our legs unless

    we're wearing our glasses)

A frew compensations.

We aren't as compliant as we used to be. 

We choose our own oufits and musts and got-to's and shoulds.

We're deep into the woods, yet we find

(Along with the inability to eat a pepperoni pizza at

    bedtime)

A few compensations.

We aren't as judgmental as we used to be.

We're quicker to laugh, and not as eager to blame.

There's time left in this game. May we find

(Along with the inability to tell ourselves that

    we'll keep playing forever)

A frew compensations. 

Judith Viorst: College Reunion

We've all turned into women with a matching set of luggage
    and a butcher for our special cuts of meat,

And trouble getting to sleep if our room is too stuffy, too cold,

    or not quiet enough, or the pillow is hard, or our sheet isn't

Tightly tucked in at the bottom.

And we've all turned into women with a standing hair appointment

    and an air-conditioned car and name-brand bag,

And some drop-out Buddhist bisexual vegetarian Maoist children to

Aggravate us.

And we've all turned into women who know genuine in jewelry and

    authentic in antiques and real in fur,

And the best in orthopedists for our frequently recurring

Lower back pain.

And we've all turned into women who take cabs instead of buses

    and watch color, not the black and white, TV,

And have lawyers, gynecologists, accountants, dermatologists,

    podiatrists, urologists, internists, cardiologists,

    insurance agents, travel agents, brokers, ophthalmologists,

And no idea how we all turned into these women.

Judith Viorst: About His Retirement

He's pointing out where I left some dust on the baseboards.

He's watching out for which foods I am letting go bad.

He's giving me guidance on how to water the houseplants.

He says that I ought to be glad. I am not glad.

He's nudging me when I fail to flow after mealtime.

He's alerting me when I gain even half a pound.

He's pestering me to straighten my spine and stop slouching

Whenever he's around. He is always around.

He's starting conversations with me when I'm reading.

He's chiming in when I talk with my friends on the phone.

He's coming with me when I shop at the supermarket

So I won't have to shop alone. I like alone.

He's sitting beside me while I'm tweezing my eyebrows.

He's standing beside me while I'm blow-drying my hair.

He's sharing those moments when I am clipping my toenails.

You want my opinion? He's overdoing share.

He's keeping track of how I am spending each second.

He also keeps track of how much I spend on my clothes.

Before he retired I told him he must find a hobby.

How he's retired. And guess who's the hobby he chose?

Judith Viorst: So My Husband and I Decided to Take a Car Trip Through New England

Even if I had a Ph.D. in psychology,

Even if I were a diplomatic whiz,

Even if I were Queen of the charmers and more irresistibly sexual

Than whoever the current reigning sexpot is,

And even if I had a fortune to squander on payoffs,

And even if I had Mafia connections,

It still would be impossible to persuade my husband, when lost,

To stop - please stop - the car, and ask for directions.

Even if I were collapsing from thirst and from hunger,

Even if I were reduced to darkest gloom,

Even if I observed, between sobs, that we should have arrived three hours ago,

And the inn was going to give away our room,

And even if I revived all my marital grievances:

Old hurts and humiliations and rejections,

It still would be impossible to persuade my husband, when lost,

To stop - just stop - the car, and ask for directions.

Even if I were to throw a full-scale temper tantrum,

Even if I were to call him an uncouth name,

Even if I were to not-so-gently suggest that should we wind up getting divorced,

He would have nobody else but himself to blame,

And even if I, in a tone I concede is called screaming,

Enumerated his countless imperfections,

It still would be impossible to persuade my husband, when lost,

To stop the goddamn car, and ask for directions.

Judith Viorst: Driving at Night

December dinner parties do not thrive
Unless the dinner party ends at five.
Nor do we go to operas or ballets
Unless we're ticketed for matinees.
And when we take our grandkids on the town,
We must get back before the sun goes down.
Our social light is suffering from blight
As, one by one, we cease to drive at night.

We sensibly accept that we must squint
Whenever we confront the finer print.
We know our blusher cannot be applied
Unless our mirror's triple-magnified.
We count on bifocals to mend the blur
That sometimes makes a him look like a her.
But when the day is done, we're out of sight
As, one by one, we cease to drive at night.

Our new best friends may lack of charm and spark
But they can see the road when it is dark.
The widows bypass prepossessing guys
For schlumps possessed of twenty-twenty eyes.
And when it's evening and we're needing cars,
We'd pick up fellows (if we could) in bars.
We've grown to fear the fading of the light,
As, one by one, we cease to drive at night.

Judith Viorst: No More Babies

 The sterilizer's up for grabs.

Nicked porta-crib, good-bye.

My third and youngest son is growing older.

I'm done with dawn awakenings,

With pablum in my eye,

With small moist bundles burping on my shoulder.

I gave away my drawstring slacks

And smocks with floppy bows.

My silhouette will never more be pear-ish.

And though I'm left with stretch marks

And a few veins varicose,

I'm aming for an image less ma-mère-ish.

No playpens in the living room

Will mangle my décor.

My stairs will not be blocked with safety fences.

No rattles, bottles, bibs, stuffed bears

Will disarray my floor,

No eau de diaper pail will assail my senses.

And no more babies will disrupt

The tenor of my day.

Nor croup and teething interrupt my sleeping.

I swear to you I wouldn't have it

Any other way.

It's positively stupid to be weeping.