The Stages of Ages in Verse

By Jetta Meyerson

This autobiography is about a woman who lived her life on her terms, collecting experiences and savoring the joys and coping with the tragedies along her journey. She changed her direction many times as her interests dictated. She survived her sojourn, with her soul and spirit intact. Its fitting that her story is narrated in verse as befits her creative expression.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 8, 2008
• ISBN: 9781469101408

Jetta Meyerson

Jetta Meyerson’s autobiography in verse, spans her diverse interests from her education in music and art through her retirement at age seventy-five. She studied opera with the renowned Maestro Romani, traveled extensively, worked in fashion promotion and advertising, taught tennis, and created and operated an art gallery. At age fifty, she turned a job in the insurance industry into a career that ended twenty-five years later. Always interested in writing, she had had several poems published. She currently resides in Valley Stream with her daughter, son-in-law, and grandaughter.

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Copyright © 2008 by Jetta Meyerson.

Library of Congress Control Number:     2008905841

ISBN:       Hardcover       978-1-4363-5374-8

 Softcover       978-1-4363-5373-1

ISBN:         ebook     978-1-4691-0140-8

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

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without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Contents

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER X

DEDICATION

This life’s history is dedicated to all the people

I met on my journey who have enriched my life’s experiences

and created the person I have become.

INTRODUCTION

The more I read, the less I knew.

I was anchored in ennui.

My life force seemed to disappear.

My energies were in arrears.

For forty years the constant struggle

contained no answers to this puzzle

in which I was engaged,

and now I stood alone enraged

that life had so decreed a fate I didn’t deserve.

He was in trouble from the start.

I suffered from a broken heart.

A baby helpless in my care.

I could not repair the tear

that threatened to engulf his being,

but only hope unseeing hands

would come to his deliverance

and soothe his painful countenance.

And so together we did battle

for a body that would rattle,

wheezing with each inhalation,

shaking with the trepidation

until his lungs could fill with air.

Watching was too much to bear.

The endless years

brought countless tears.

Frustrations were the main offense.

Happiness was just pretense.

To keep him balanced was a task.

I always had to wear a mask

to cover terrors I was feeling,

to keep myself in check from reeling

into an abyss.

To show him nothing was amiss,

so he could reach another day

to keep this monstrous thing at bay.

To have a view of life like mine

just doesn’t happen by design.

I didn’t start out to be that way.

I never liked the shade of gray.

But sometimes you don’t get to choose.

For some it’s drugs or sex or booze.

I settled for profanity.

It helped to save my sanity.

Once I had another life

before I had become a wife.

It was exciting and quite varied.

That was way before I married.

CHAPTER I

Adolescence

I was the oldest child of three.

I loved my family’s company.

My aunts and uncles lived nearby.

All I had to do was sigh

for them to grant my every wish.

Time spent with them was so delish.

When on vacation with my folks I sang at talent shows.

I connected with the music and heaven only knows

why, at this tender age, was touched by this obsession.

The limelight and the music would become my new profession.

High school beckoned and filled me with wrath.

I decided on a much different path.

I heard of a school filled with music and art

that was far from the norm, and one set apart.

But there was a problem, and there was a test.

You had to have talent, they took only the best.

I was dismayed, my voice wasn’t trained.

I feared my vocal chords would be strained

auditioning music unknown to me.

My entrance exam would be history.

Music theory was beyond my scope.

It was apparent there wasn’t a hope

of going to this wondrous school,

and joining this selective pool.

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My sense of rhythm and my ear

was so discerning, I could hear

a shift of key, a change of beat,

that was considered no small feat

in one so unschooled, such as me.

They accepted me unconditionally.

My grade school principal did advise,

"You could never ever rise

to the level of those accepted.

I would find myself rejected.

Traveling would be a chore

Listen to me," he’d implore.

Speaking to my mom, he sighed.

Silently, I stood and cried.

"Jetta thinks she can do it.

I think that she should pursue it.

She has made a definite choice.

She wants to cultivate her voice."

How my mom supported me

and brushed aside his earnest plea,

was something she would not regret,

was something I would not forget.

I traveled many hours a day

to get to school from far away.

I did my homework on the train.

It helped to exercise my brain.

Private lessons then ensued.

My endeavors were pursued

with one ambition at this age,

to one day sing upon the stage.

Looking for a teacher, I auditioned for Jan Pierce.

He suggested coach Romani, whose reputation was so fierce

in his devotion to the operatic scores.

There was no time for parties or even teenage chores.

Practicing and singing scales,

relating all my newfound tales

seemed to bring us all together

forming an invisible tether.

Fortifying this strong bond

feeling that the girls were fond

of learning what I introduced,

Enjoying what I had produced.

Andra played piano, Gail took dancing lessons.

Sometimes Andra came with me to my singing sessions.

The house became a mecca of piano, dance, and song.

For me it was a refuge, a place where I belonged.

I began to