Isaac Solomon Builder

(This article first appeared in the Winter 1998 issue of the Bastard Quarterly.)

Isaac Solomon Builder

by Paul Turner (pturner@ma.ultranet.com)

Passed your monument,
Crumbling chiseler of Jersey,
Cousin two laced hands.

Named his father Max,
Jewish carpenter, wife Mary,
Spied elevations.

Left Flatbush for hills,
Far from brothers and cousins,
Joined other landsmen.

Brought scroll of fathers,
Set corner spikes for Brooks House,
Far for pioneers.

Timber's a good trade,
Yetta makes a simple home,
Wanders later on.

Elder son's no joke,
What's in a name Melvin Brooks,
A bit player Philly.

Little wanderer,
Eclipses the son, parses souls,
Nurses the sick, dies.

Returned home one oar,
Danced, played tennis, learned his lines,
Picked a flower, cheered.

Little one, head hurt,
Sang the verses of prophets,
Took the coach to town.

Turned thirteen, mom rejoined,
Turned nineteen, names, profile, stuck,
Twenty-nine, mom's left.

Her name and dates listed
Drove to Goshen, flooded plain,
Pointed to Jersey.

Angels told me call,
Get to good part roundabout,
Two hands frame my face.

My voice, my cadence,
My scholarly attitudes,
Mix English Yiddish.

We surprise ourselves,
We bemuse distant cousins,
We are kin again.

Paul Turner is an adoptee who works in Massachusetts as a freelance technical writer which gives him time to pursue a singing career and develop his poetry. Paul studied acting at the High School of Performing Arts in New York City, and earned a BA in English from SUNY Albany. In 1992, he found that his birthmother had died two years before he could meet her. Paul currently sings with Saengerfest Concert Chorus and the Boston Bel Canto Opera Chorus.

(This article first appeared in the Winter 1998 issue of the Bastard Quarterly.)