I am not known as a writer but,I have a son Douglas who has four close friends,symbolically ‘my five sons’,two of whom are known writers,between whom I poise. Arjun Basu and Jason Camlot,editor and professor respectively, acknowledged in the literary arena for Twitters, Poetry;registered in my life as ‘the boys’ who hung out at home from eighties until married in late nineties,privileging me with a collection of memories.
Arjun spent one entire Christmas sitting on a uncomfortable kitchen stool,living completely inside his head-writing.Occasionally,he responded “yes” to a plate of turkey or to load firewood.Silent,steadfast, clever and witty,Arjun’s ‘yes’ expanded into a successful career.
Jason at a party,standing in the corner of my living room, guitar in hand,sang poems heard by a dear old man on his last day.
Each summer Douglas and his two writer friends Arjun and Jason with their children,vacation at a summer cottage.Arjun and Jason hand over bedtimes stories,stock piling memories for themselves and the children.
Aging:funded by memories,if remembered.
Elaine Steinberg is a Contributing Editor at sunday @ 6