Tapestry: Poetry and Musings

By Edward Schwartz

This is a book of poetry for those of you who are tired of unintelligible verse. This is the common man talkinga father, husband, and a community member who finds humor and pathos in everyday happenings with a little philosophy thrown in as an afterthought. I take a thought, a word, or an interesting line and create a story around it, usually ending with a twist or just a good thought. This story is about our life and our marriage of fifty-nine years.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 18, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543444124

Edward Schwartz

In this, his second book, Tapestry Two - older, bolder and better, Ed Schwartz brings his wife, Joan, fully into his new book with thirty seven of her own poems in a section all her own. Joan started writing with the tragedy of her daughter’s death from breast cancer at the age of thirty-eight. She wrote for less then two years but in that time turned out some beautiful poetry about life,death, love and children. She hopes that when you read these poems it will help in your mourning. Or simply remembering the good things and the way we must all go on to honor the memory of our loved ones. Ed and Joan live in the lovely condo community called Lake Barrington Shores just 35 miles northwest of Chicago.

Book preview

Fullerton Avenue, Chicago, December 1958

The winter of 1958 would turn out to be a turning point in my life. I had just graduated from Roosevelt University, finished a six-month Army Reserve training, and came home to work for my dad at Home Carpet Cleaners and Magikist Carpet Sales.

I was just finishing a day’s work when a customer, GoldiePozner walked in looking for a carpet for her living room. Jack, my dad, took care of her while I was carrying out a rug for another customer.

Goldie’s first words, Who is that young man? and my dad’s answer, That’s my son, sealed my fate, though I didn’t know it at the time.

I have just the girl for that boy, said Goldie, and something clicked between my dad and Goldie.

I was given the job of measuring her living room that evening; however, nobody had asked me, and I was busy. So my dad did the measure. Meanwhile, Goldie had told her daughter Joan to stay home because a nice young man was coming over to measure for carpeting.

When Dad arrived, Joan exclaimed, You want me to go out with him? He’s much too old for me. After it was all explained, the parents decided I should call, talk to her, and probably go out on a blind date. Frankly, blind dates have never worked out for me.

The date was December 28, 1958. I called Joan and asked her out for New Year’s Eve.

How can you possibly ask me out for New Year’s Eve the day before? Joan said. Besides, I have a date. Coincidentally, her date was with a boy of the same last name—Schwartz.

I did call back about two weeks later, and a date was set. First date—disastrous. We went to a movie called Separate Tables, with Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr. It was a good movie with great acting, but we would have had to be at least forty years older to appreciate it. The story was about two older people in an old-age home who meet, enjoy each other’s company, and then go their separate ways, never to meet again. Joan and I were somewhat compatible, but the evening was not a great success.

I didn’t call back for two weeks when, unbeknownst to me, Goldie called my dad to purchase a matching rug for the sunroom. This time, I did measure the room, talked to Joan, and set another date.

The rest is history. We were married July 7, 1959, after a whirlwind courtship. She was just nineteen, and I was twenty-three.

This year, on July 7, 2017, will be our fifty-eighth anniversary. If you are interested in how it all turned out, the poems and letters in Tapestry will show you the way.

There are several poems and letters written by my wife, Joan. They are distinguished by her initials, JS, and mine, ES.

Ed Schwartz (2009)

Lake Barrington

To My Wife

May your love be just like mine

strong as truth and sweet as wine.

You must work hard to make it so

for it takes two to make it grow.

Last and last throughout the years

times of tempest, times of tears.

Heed these words and in the end

you are lovers, you are friends.

Build your love upon a dream

it’s not as fragile as it seems.

But bind that dream to reality

for it can sink on a stormy sea.

And when that stormy sea is past

and you’re alone, together at last.

The sky in colors and you know

that it takes two to make it so.

ES

1969

Northbrook

To My Husband

Come share my life, my love, my own

And know that I am yours alone

Take my hand and hold me near

Keep me safe from all I fear

Give me strength to stand up tall

Be beside me should I fall

Your shoulder was there for me to cry on

Your powerful presence for me to rely on

Together forever—yours to keep

Until God’s call to final sleep.

JS

1969

Northbrook

TO MY WIFE

I was listening last evening to our old records, reminiscing the sweet memories of early youth. These melodies brought out an ecstasy, a beauty, and a fulfillment that is hard to describe.

As beautiful as these melodic memories are, they are regretfully a part of the past and must be replaced by present and future experiences as beautiful, so we will make new wonderful memories as we progress on our path to the future.

Some people are luckier than others. You and I are of that group. As difficult as some of the years have been, I can still recall memories of our courtship, our early marriage, and our children with great pleasure and love. Yes, we are lucky, but let it be known that it is not all luck. A marriage is love, compromise, pleasure, pain, and most of all, growing older and wiser together. Contrary to popular opinion, one love cannot make a marriage work. It takes two loves and more understanding than you ever knew existed. You must grow together, not apart.

Marriage vows do not automatically produce a marriage, except technically. A marriage is not even made in heaven. It may be assigned to you there, but that marriage is made on earth by hard work, love, and understanding. It is up to a man and a woman, over a period of many years, to create their own heaven or hell on earth. It’s a little bit of both, you know. You can’t be happy all the time. All of life has a high and low rhythm, and ours just happens to have a higher level of lows than most.

What I’m really getting at in my wandering, philosophical epistle of this holiday season is that I am looking forward to our future years together because with a little work on both our parts, we can be, even in this hectic and unhappy world, two of the happiest people that have ever existed on this planet.

As the melodic memories of our youth fade away, our love will grow in beauty and fulfillment that is hard to describe.

This then, my holiday gift,

                  to you, my love,

                      to the future.

ES

1969

Northbrook

MY DEAREST HUSBAND

As I sit here at the kitchen table amid a pile of just-washed clothes, the radio station began playing My Funny Valentine, and I just had to sit down and write what I was feeling. That crazy song always did