The Ballad Of The Long Hair And The Short Hair by Yehudah Amichai Translated by Orna Raz


Today we no longer write poems about wars, heroism or the women who wait at home. But as we are in a midst of a depressing war here in Israel, I find this poem, by the Israeli poet Yehudah Amichai, about another war-- the Israeli Independence war (1948), powerful and sad. I hope that it works  in English


The ballad of the long hair and the short hair by Yehudah Amichai 

 Translated by Orna Raz


His hair was shaven  when he got into the camp

Her hair remained long with no answer

“I can’t hear you in this growing noise”

You long hair, my girl, my short hair


Throughout the summer flowers practiced blooming,

Inside the patient earth as they built their strength .  

 “I returned to you, but was not the same.”

Your long hair, my love, my short hair


The wind broke the tree, the tree broke the wind  

They had many options and very little time to rest

 “It’s raining, come home quick”

Your long hair, my girl, your short hair


The world became for them, an indirect speech.

Doesn’t touch them, slowly they began to sing

 “I set my watch when are you coming back?”

Your long hair, my girl, your short hair


 Then they fell silent, like distant steps

The sky opened, the book of laws closed

“What  are you saying, and what are you?”

Your long hair, my girl, your short hair




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The Shelf Fell Off the Wall (or The Rhyme of the Ancient Do-It-Yourselfer)

First, the shelf fell off the wall -- seemingly for no reason. There was no one in the room and no vibration or anything else that would cause it to fall. But it fell.  On its way down, it gouged a dent in the edge of the antique mission-style desk and put a hole in the carpet about the size of a half dollar. If someone had been sitting at the desk they would have been injured, maybe maimed for life, who knows. All of the stuff on the shelf, mostly office supplies and general odds and ends like paper clips and mailing labels, etc, landed on the floor. The computer sitting on the desk took a glancing blow but wasn't damaged...just traumatized.

So I needed to clean up the mess and try to put it all back together. I got the shelf back up and got it secured so it would stay in place. I picked up the mess and then decided to try to clean up the floor so I got out the (big) vacuum and started sucking up the small debris, dust and cat hair and other stuff that accumulated on the floor. And then I sucked up a bunch of the carpet.....the brushes on the vacuum caught hold of the loose damaged threads of the carpet and --- brrrrizzzzppp --- there went the carpet. Once it got started there was no stopping it. What once was a hardly noticeable little hole became a large bald spot on the carpet.  Imagine my surprise.

OK, now what? This is not good. My wife passed away a year earlier and we had already made a plan to fix up the house and sell it so we could move to New Mexico. We built the house and it had lots of memories.  I was now mostly sleep-walking through the resale project, not exactly sure what I was going to do.  But the shelf fell off the wall...and now I have a carpet problem in the office that needs to be fixed...replaced. The office also had one wall with large (hideous) flowered print wallpaper that needed to be stripped so that meant a new paint job for the office, anyway, so I'm looking at a "makeover" for that room. The rest of the downstairs was reasonably salvageable and just needed a good cleaning, I thought.

A few days later I went over to Lowes hardware to look at carpet and paint. It took a couple trips but, with my daughter, Jill, helping, I finally picked out a color for the walls and found some carpet. They were having a sale on carpet installation. The cost of installation for one room was the same for a whole house. My little carpet job was going to cost more for installation than for the carpet and pad so, what the heck, let's do the whole downstairs with the same carpet. Brighten up the whole place!  Oh, and the stairwell needs new carpet then as well.  Oh, and I'll need to replace the old worn vinyl at the foot of the stairs and if I'm going to do that, then I need to replace the vinyl in the bathroom, too.  As long as I'm replacing the carpet, now is the time to repaint!!  So we go and pick out more colors for the exercise room, the bathroom and the family room and stairwell. 

My carpet installation guy, Eric, comes by to do the measuring and says we need fifteen foot wide carpet; not what we picked out. So we go back and find pretty much the same carpet at the same price but in a wider width...everything is cool and the wall color choices are still good. Okiedokie -- We are happy, Eric is happy and Lowes is really happy.

Eric stresses that now is the time to paint. It will take a few weeks to get the carpet and pad so I have a while to get it all done before the carpet is installed.  So I start to strip the wallpaper. I should say that I start to demolish the wall because that is pretty much what takes place. The wallpaper is strippable, but not this time, apparently. I used the right stripping chemicals and tools but it comes off either in pieces the size of a postage stamp or it comes off in large chunks along with the drywall paper. There isn't much happening in between. It took 2 1/2 days to get the paper off one wall and the damage was serious.  So, I go back over to Lowes and talk to one of the guys there who tells me what I need to do...get joint compound and skim coat the wall and after three coats and plenty of sanding, put a good primer on it and then paint. Oh great.

I get my supplies and go at it with a vengeance. The wall decided to fight back. The joint compound is wet, of course, and when it got on the remaining drywall paper it caused bubbles and ripples to form as the paper started to sag and stretch. OK, so I wait until it dries and sand it and try again and (guess what) I get the same result.  Surprise -- there is a special kind of primer that I was supposed to use over the paper before I put on the skim coat but the guy at Lowes forgot to mention that. I sanded the wall again and then put on the special primer and the wall began to ripple and bubble again but once it dried it was hard and bubbles. I put the second primer coat on the wall and it looked good but it needed to cure about a week before it is fully hard. So that delayed the rest of the work in the office.

As long as I'm waiting, I'll repaint the exercise room. That room also has wallpaper on one wall but I've learned my lesson and it can stay up forever. So I have only three walls to paint. That went pretty good except when I moved the floor lamp and the cord got tangled with the table leg which was holding the paint tray and the table and paint tray ended up on the floor. Good thing this carpet is getting replaced.

So a week goes by and I'm ready to throw mud at the wall in the office.  "Mud" is what we home repair do-it-yourself types call joint compound. We have a whole vocabulary and mine is getting pretty colorful at this point.  So, the first (new) skim coat goes on and there doesn't seem to be any major looks OK, no bubbles. I wait 24 hours and do the sanding and put on the second skim coat and it looks good, too. After more sanding, the final skim coat was really just a little bit of touch-up and after another sanding it looked great. Of course I'm wearing a face mask when I'm doing all of the sanding. That is to keep me from breathing in the dust but my glasses are always fogging up so the dust sticks to my glasses. I'm also sweating like a hooker at a Shriners' convention so the dust is sticking in all sorts of places. Good thing no one came to the door. I looked like a zombie.

So long as I had the joint compound handy, I decided to go and patch the few places that needed it because of the normal little dings and dents that happen over time. The wall at the bottom of the stairs had several small dents because I'm always bumping it with the ladder or when I carry something big up or down the stairs. And the five Indian students that bought my big sofa sleeper accidentally punched a small hole in the wall on their way out so that needed to be patched (that's another story). Instead of simply filling up the holes, some of them got bigger as I tried to fill them with the mud. What the hell is going on?? The holes turned into little channels and runways -- termites were eating the paper off my drywall.  That's just what I needed.

At this point I'm about ready to look in the yellow pages for arsonist -- but I call a pest control guy instead.  All of this is coming on top of the other house problems...lightning struck my air conditioner in July and my roof is leaking and I'm fighting with the insurance company and trying to get the roofers to show up. The bug man came two days later and said, "yep, you got termites".  So we worked out the details and our plan of attack. We are going to kill them all...I really want to kill something, anything. 

Next day, Jason, the bug man, showed up and set up the termite bait traps and installed the poisoned bait at the few places where we know they were getting into the house. He also put in 24 monitoring traps around the outside of the house. The cost was substantial but I have no real choice. The termite nests will be dead in a few weeks but the whole process takes about two years to be sure they are gone. Jason will be my point man and check the bait traps and add poison whenever we see any activity. After the two years they guarantee that the termites are gone and will cover any future damage up to $250.000. I need that kind of assurance so I can sell the house.

So where was I...oh yes, painting and, now, replacing drywall. Meanwhile, Eric wants to schedule the carpet installation and I'm afraid the roofers are going to get here the same time Eric does.  The remnants of Hurricane Gustav passed by and it rained about four inches so my little roof leak was no longer just a nuisance.

I put a fresh coat of primer on the wall in the office and it looked good. Painting the office was relatively uneventful and it now looks great. I was worried about how the wall was going to look but it actually looks as good as the other walls. I had a little bit of clean up to do on the baseboards and I'll be done.

Meanwhile, the roofers sent a guy over to plug up any holes he can find where water might be getting in. He found a few nail holes and applied some goo trying to stop the leaking.  The guys that put my roof on last time apparently didn't know which end of the hammer was the business end.  Most of my problems are due to their nails popping out. Actually they had those mechanical nail drivers but they just weren't up to the task or they didn't know how to use them.  They were the lowest bid so maybe I could have found guys that knew what they were doing.  But I digress.

Late one evening I decided to pull off the termite damaged drywall and see how bad it was.  I was encouraged to see that they didn't get very far. This is manageable and probably another do-it-yourself job. I need to replace a 3' by 4' section of drywall...and since I'm so well versed in drywall finishing I ought to be able to do this.  The next morning I trudged back over to Lowes and talked them into cutting a 4' by 8' piece of drywall in two so I could easily move it and cut it down to the proper size once I had the hole trimmed up square. The termites had a couple tubes built that allowed them to go from the ground, under the concrete slab up over the concrete footing and up to the wood sill. When I first saw the tubes I brushed them away and cleaned up the mess but they rebuilt the tubes in about two hours. That was before the bug guys were here. This time I swept up the termite tunnels and they didn't come back - no sign of them. I'm hoping that the poison bait is working; at least it seems to be working.

Next Eric calls and says he is ready to do the carpet installation on Monday because he has some down time due to a delay on some other jobs. Well, I was hoping to get more done on the drywall but he says he can work around the termite problem and he will come back in a week or so and do the vinyl after I get the drywall fixed. The termite damaged wall is by the vinyl section at the foot of the steps and shouldn't be a problem for the carpet.  OK - let's get something done, anything.

I don't mind doing home improvement stuff on my own but I'm getting worn out a little. I decided earlier to get professional painters to do the family room and the stairwell. I just don't want to do the stairwell by myself. I could see disaster there. But, I couldn't get anyone lined up to do the job in time to have it done before the carpet is installed.  If they are professional painters they should be able to do the job without messing up the new carpet (I tell myself). And, of course, I'm not going to install carpet myself or put on the new roof. I have a bunch of "little" jobs (I hope) outside that I need to get done before the weather turns bad. The paver patio is in need of some more work and the trim and garage door needs painting.

Eric and his helper, Thomas, arrived bright and early on the appointed day and went directly to work. Eric is a talker and is built like a slightly oversized jockey but Thomas is a big country guy. Eric was in the Special Forces in the military and gives the orders and directions; Thomas was a soldier in Iraq and does whatever he is told. I stay out of their way and spend most of the time keeping my cat, Watson, from coming unhinged. Although there is a chance of rain, the weather is beautiful, sunny and 64 degrees with a light breeze so the windows are open and it is easy working. The plan is to get the carpet laid in two days and then come back in about a week and do the vinyl - after I fix the termite-damaged drywall. That is fine and a schedule I can work with.

They pulled the carpet up from the office and the exercise room and the floor looks good under the pad. I was afraid that it was going to be damp under the pad with all the rain we have had - thanks to Gustav -- but it was nice and dry. Eric said the baseboard would show water damage if it was in contact with damp carpet and it all looks fine. Hallelujah!

Eric and Thomas got the office and the exercise room finished as well as the short hallway outside those two rooms. They did a great job and we moved the office furniture and exercise equipment back into those rooms and also move some of the other furniture in there to get it out of the way.

They were back the next morning and got to work on the main family room. The big furniture was moved out and the carpet was stretched out. Thomas had to leave and Eric got called away for a while to get another job started. The work bogged down and Eric hoped to finish it by himself but it got too late and he was worn out. They were both back again the next day and got everything finished by noon.  The furniture was moved back and it looks great.

I spent the next couple days moving and organizing stuff in the office. I moved in the bookcases and installed the wall shelves. The books and office supplies were moved back in and I even got a primitive music system set up to run off my little "ipod". I've been watching for any termite activity but they haven't come back so I need to finish up that project too.

The little drywall job stayed under control and I was happy with the outcome. It looked reasonably professional and if I put my little console table in front of it it looked even better. I need a place to put my stuff when I come in from the garage anyway. Eric showed up a couple days later and finished off the vinyl in the bathroom and the stair landing. Everything was falling into place.

Meanwhile, Hurricane Ike slammed into the Texas gulf coast near Galveston.  I'm a sucker for hurricanes and spent most of the night watching the Weather Channel as the various on-camera weather jockeys get blown around and literally knocked down by the wind. The storm had a projected path that was going to bring it up into Arkansas and southern Missouri. The problem is that the storm is 600 miles wide and even if it stays in Arkansas I'm going to get very wet. My roof still leaks. Even though the roofers came out and did some emergency fixes I'm afraid the leaking will continue. We already had several days of wet weather and Ike was going to come on top of that.

What was left of Ike, now a tropical depression, arrived late Saturday, September 13th, and poured a solid wall of water on the house for about seven hours. I was pretty happy at first - no major leakage upstairs - but there was some leakage in the garage where the water came in over the foundation wall (!!).  Some of the stuff I had temporarily moved into the garage got wet. Later in the day I discovered a new wet spot upstairs and a dark wet spot in the family room downstairs. So far, I'm confident that the various ceiling stains can be fixed but I'm wondering if the attic is sopping wet. I really need those roofers to get here. The roof scares me much more than the termites.

Meanwhile, the painters showed up. I thought I'd help move the job along by putting up masking tape on the baseboards and I would do if I was painting. That took about a half day. When the painters arrived they said they didn't need no stinkin' masking tape. I was concerned. Very concerned because I had the new carpet down and the painters seemed like they were not concerned with paint drips or runs. We had a talk but they said they would be careful. They worked fast and finished without mishap. I was pleased. These guys were pretty good. I guess it helps if you have the right experience and equipment.

My roofers finally showed up as we went into fall and they did a good job. These guys knew what they were doing and why they were here. They pulled out a bad section of roof sheathing and replaced it and I'm very happy with the job.  I have only a little bit of nails and old roof debris that I find occasionally but they cleaned up just about everything.


So, finally the work was done. Hopefully the end of my do-it-yourself stuff. The shelf stayed up for the rest of the time I owned the house. I put the house on the market and decided that I would move to New Mexico after all. It took almost three years to sell the house thanks to the Great Recession but somebody finally showed up who fell in love with it and wanted to raise their two girls there. I was happy to have a young family back in the place.   When I sold the house I moved into my daughter's 105 year old brick Victorian for about nine months. I had a few more handyman jobs to do there but they mostly ended without mishap. I decided against building a home in New Mexico and found a house that was what I was looking for at a reasonable price. Moving twice in one year is easier than it sounds if you don't unpack most of your stuff. So now I'm happily enthroned in my home in the desert -- looking at a few more projects that need to be done to make it just right.


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Your Best Is Not Good Enough For Me



Although we may not always admit it, most of us experience it in one way or another.  What I am referring to is the feeling of embarrassment, or even shame, while watching a  loved one in public: it could be a family member (especially parents), a partner or even a close friend.
In retrospect, and sometimes even in real time, we  feel guilty and disappointed at ourselves for having those feelings, but it is hard to stop them. Those moments of embarrassment do not  come as a surprise, usually there are triggers, and we dread their arrival. They could occur at a  holiday dinner, an outing, a party with friends etc. Typically they appear when we are outside our immediate circle, in cases when we do not have full control of the action and the  outcomes.
In those instances we experience our  loved ones in a different setting, often in a different role and  thus we view them through, what we perceive to be, someone else’s critical eyes. Somehow under such scrutiny a previously fine person becomes full of faults.
It is not as though we were blind to those flaws before hand, but while prior to the occasion we condoned them, now suddenly they become as noticeable as out of tune notes.
I remember with regret an instance when at the age of twenty two my husband and I were invited with my parents to dinner at the home of new British friends. After the meal when everyone had coffee my mother dared asking for tea. And I thought why does she have to be different?  it was the first time that I was embarrassed of my mother and  knew  that those feelings, which stemmed from my insecurities, reflected badly on me. No one else cared, and the hosts were happy to give my mother what she had asked for. I hope that she didn't notice, at least I was smart enough not to say anything.
While My mother only embarrassed me that one time, my poor father kept challenging my sensibility for years, until at thirty  I finally realized that by finding faults with his etiquette I was the one who lacked manners.
I had a chance to meet an extreme version of myself as a young woman when we went out for dinner with a friend, her daughter and her son in law. The mother (free spirited and  delightful) was constantly berated by her embarrassed daughter (sulky and uptight). Those attributes in parentheses are mine, of course, the young woman and her husband probably viewed the occasion quite differently. I empathized  with the  mother  and felt some shame remembering my own behavior. In order to ease the tension, I tried to make a supportive comment to the mother, but I noticed that she preferred to think that no one had noticed, so I stayed out of it.
In gatherings we sometimes see couples where the wife just knows that when her husband opens his mouth he would make a complete fool of himself. Thus she intervenes trying to ameliorate the situation. Obviously for her every inappropriate comment is grating on her ears.
I do not believe that this public performance is a sign that the relationship is in trouble; it is very possible that the mother and her daughter are close and that privately those couples get along fine. Issues that we tend to discuss in public such as politics, sport, or religion are a breeding ground to stock arguments and rigid opinions and therefore could be especially hard to take.
I feel that women who are generally sensitive to their surroundings tend to feel embarrassment and shame more strongly. I don’t think that many men kick their wives under the table to make them stop talking, but I have yet to meet the man who has not been kicked. Naturally we cannot kick our parents, friends and children.
 But why can’t we just let it be? How come we are so worried that our loved ones’ imperfections will reflect badly on us? Are we flawless in public?
I can only speak for myself, perhaps when it happens I regress back to that insecure girl who found faults with her mother, all those years ago.
A good friend told me “my daughter’s inadequate behavior in public teaches me humility.” This is a great attitude which I am trying to adopt. 


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Some thoughts on the painting Tobias and the Angel (circa 1470-80) by the Workshop of Verrocchio.  Egg tempera on poplar.  National Gallery, London.

Trust me, if you will.  I am loving, I am infinite, I am immortal.  I do not judge.  I am beyond all fears.  I will guide you if you ask me.  The decision is yours.  I ask nothing of you.

The Archangel Raphael's sandaled feet tread lightly on the rocky soil.  He does not need the reassurance of solid ground beneath him.  He carries certainty in his tall frame, full of androgynous grace.  He turns to look down at the boy.  His face is weary from the centuries of doubt leading up to this attainment of wisdom through knowledge, but he can now draw strength from certainty.

I do not ask blind faith of you, he seems to tell the boy.  You will learn, and only then will you know and be certain.  In the meantime, trust me, if you will.  The choice is yours.

Raphael's wings are scarlet and black.  They were built on the embers of passion and fear.  It cannot have been otherwise.

I do not want white wings.  I want to remember my past.  I was like you, once.  I want to remember the ashes I rose from.

At Raphael's feet, trots the translucent figure of a small dog.  To warn of approaching demons.  He turns back to check that the boy is following.

Trust this stranger, boy.  Trust your heart.  Trust.

Tobias's boots are firm on the ground.  He needs to feel rooted while his cloak billows in the winds of uncertainty.  He has slid a tentative hand onto the stranger's arm.

Let me hold onto you.  I cannot take this journey alone.  Not yet.

The boy stares up at the archangel, mesmerised by the stranger's secret knowledge.  His young body is unsteady, but the faith in his eyes is unwavering.

I want to trust. 

His mind cannot comprehend but his heart knows that he is safe with the stranger.  He does not know, yet.  And yet he knows.

Guide me to this faraway land.  I want to learn. 

I want to trust.  I choose to trust. 

I am glad, says the archangel.   Walk with me.  All will be well.  The world is full of wonders.


Scribe Doll

(This piece was  originally published on Wordpress on  21 August 2011)






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Latest Comments

Ken Hartke Sofia's Bakery
20 May 2018
Thanks, Rosy, -- glad you liked it.
Ken Hartke I Promise
20 May 2018
I am so looking forward to your return -- I love your writing and wish you well. From my youth I've...
Stephen Evans I Promise
20 May 2018
Sometimes when I am dealing with deep anxiety I find that work (by which I mean writing), and the f...
Rosy Cole Sofia's Bakery
20 May 2018
I just love this, Ken. As appealing to the senses as a painting. Thanks :-)

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