Looking for Me

All rights reserved. For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to Permissions, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company, 215 Park Avenue South, New York, New York 10003.

Houghton Mifflin is an imprint of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company.

www.hmhbooks.com

The text of this book is set in Centaur MT
The photographs are courtesy of the Paul family.
Glossary on pages 164â165.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Control Number 2011017124

ISBN 978-0-547-61084-9

Manufactured in the United States of America
DOC 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
4500346196

To my wonderfully loving and selfless mom,
for sharing a lifetime of stories with me

Edith of No Special Place

I'm just plain Edith.
I'm number four,
and should anyone care,
I'm eleven years old,
with curly black hair.

Squeezed / between /two / brothers,
Daniel and Ray,
lost in a crowd,
will I ever be more
than just plain Edith,
who's number four?

In my overcrowded family
I'm just another face.
I'm just plain Edith
of no special place.

Always One More

I saw these wooden nesting dolls in a store,
the kind where you don't know how many dolls
there are altogether until you start
opening them up,
and there's always
one more inside,
sort of like
my family.

Family Portrait, Baltimore, 1936

We're lined up:
girl boy, girl boy, girl boy, girl boy, girl boy,

and in the middle of us all, Dad,
who ordered us to smile
right before the Brownie clicked,
standing stiff as a soldier,
no smile on
his
face,

and Mom's beside him,
a baby in her arms
and in her rounded belly
another one,

just a trace.

Inspector Bubby

When Mom goes to the hospital
to have this new baby,
us older kids
watch the younger ones
and keep the house clean.

We think we're doing okay
until Dad's mother, Bubby Anne,
comes over
and runs her finger across the top
of the china cabinet
that we couldn't even reach,

just to show us the dust
we've left behind.

There Goes That Theory

Nobody asked
my
opinion
about having another sister or brother.
But if someone had,

I would have asked
for another little sister,
even though I was sure

this new baby
in Mom's belly
had to be a boy.

How could I be so sure?
Because the last girl she had
was my sister Annette.

Sometime after Annette came along,
Mom collapsed
and Dad rushed her to the hospital,

where they took out one of her ovaries
(part of her baby-making equipment,
Bubby Anne told us).

So my sisters and I thought
it must have been
the girl-making one

because since the surgery
Mom has had nothing but boysâ
my brothers Lenny, Melvin, Sol, and Jack.

But now this baby in Mom's belly
turned out to be Sherry.
And that's the end

of our ovary theory.

Now We're Even

Maybe Mom and Dad
wanted one last one
to even things up.
With six boys
and now six girls,
maybe they're done.

I guess there's really
no way of knowing,
but I sure hope
our family's
all done growing.

Some People Don't Understand About a Big Family

My friends Connie and Eunice
love coming to my house.
To them it seems like
we're always having a party.

But I'd rather go to their houses,
where there's room to move around
without bumping into anybody

and you
never
have to stand in line
to use the bathroom.

I Wonder What It Would Be Like

To sleep by myself
in this bed
that holds three
with all of the covers
to cover
just me.

To spread my arms wide
and lie
at a slant
with no other bodies
to say
that I can't.

To lie
on a pillow,
no feet in my face;
I'd lie awake nights
just feeling the space.

Keeping the Days Straight

Since it's summertime
and we aren't back in school yet,
I keep forgetting what day it is.

So my brother Raymond
teaches me the trick
of checking what Mom's making for dinner.

Mondays are
milkhik,
Tuesdays, liver;
Wednesdays are macaroni casserole days,
Thursdays are meat,
and Fridays we eat a Shabbos feast
of chicken, chopped liver, and soup.
Saturdays we have what's left,
and Sundays Dad brings home deli.

So the day of the week
all depends
on what's inside my belly.

Why Can't Summer Last Forever?

Summer means
we're outside,
trying to cool off.
So my little brother Melvin
grabs my hand
and we run by the garden hose
that Mom's waving around.
We scream with glee
as she hoots and sprays us
with its misty breath.

Summer means
trips to the shore with Dad,
where we all play tag
with the waves
and build castles in the sand
and then, on the way home,
stop for kosher dogs,
lathered with mustard,
like shaving cream on a man's face.

Summer means
matinees at the Roxy Theatre
on weekdays,
not just weekends,
and taking my brothers and sisters
to the park
to play dodge ball
and horseshoes
and hum in the kazoo band.

Why can't summer last forever?

Lucky Lenny

Last Sunday
when Dad took us to swim in the bay
at Workmen's Circle Lodge,
my little brother Lenny slipped
on a plum pit in the pavilion
and broke both his legs.

He's in the hospital now,
getting loads of comic books,
marbles, and card games
and more candy buttons and chocolate licorice
than he could ever eat,
and the nurses are fluffing up his pillows
and bringing him grape soda all the time.
He's even making new friends,
playing war and go fish
with the man in the next bed.

Today when we went to swim,
I looked as hard as I could
for my own
plum pit.

One Summer Night

My little sister Marian is missing again,
so Dad packs some of us into his Hudson
(we can't all fit)
and we drive around until we finally find Marian
in the park,
bouncing her little paddle board and ball,
not even noticing the dark
at all.

When we get home,
Dad uses Marian's paddle,
but not on the ball,
and she doesn't act like she's sorry
at all.

Goodbye to Summer

When Dad's mother, Bubby Anne,
gives us all pairs of new socks
to wear to school,
it's time to say goodbye to summer.

When Mom's mom, Bubby Etta,
reaches into her shopping bag
full of crayons, jacks, and candy
and hands each of us
“a little something special
to start off the new school year,”
it's time to say goodbye to summer.

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