Lord of the Strings

Today Daniel is 14. Since last summer he is my height, wears shoes big as boats and answers the phone in a manly voice.
He hates getting up and he detests investing time into math and other school matters , which leaves us in daily despair regarding his waisted future in astro-physics and makes our efforts to lead him towards scientific enlightenment as strenuous as knocking down a brick wall with toothpicks. It is superfluous to mention the contents of his notorious schoolbag, which is mainly composed of a nonchalant collection of nagged items you would otherwise expect at your neighborhood' s recycling dump.
Spot, his white pet rat is damned to a forlorn fate of smelly neglect, merely sometimes highlighted by his master's sudden spurts of remembrance and remorse when he takes the poor thing out of its cage for a one-handed cuddle, while patting the computer mouse with the other hand . Only our repeated threats of relocating the unlucky rodent at the nearest zoo induce our son to engage in a long-winded 'purification' action of the desolate creature' s living quarters. The odorous remains of this elaborate ceremony are unfailingly left in a sad leaky plastic bag at our front door, probably for final disposal by volunteers from outer space.
When he is not bickering with Yedidia about time at the computer or the same place on the couch, he can be the most obliging and clever partner for an intelligent conversation. His otherwise rather patchy memory for logarithms and class assignments will suddenly surprise with the brilliant recollection of complicated historical circumstances, vast English vocabulary and the wisdom from various books he loves to loose himself in before going to sleep.
Occasional evening strolls along the scenic main promenade of our quiet backwater in the Judean Hills are my rare opportunity to grasp this or that useful bit of information about my son before he disappeares again upon our return into the virtual world provided by his digital friend the computer. His other daily pastime is endlessly twisting the arms and legs of some innocent little Playmobile people, fighting each other in bloody duels and ending up slain and scattered lifeless all over the coffee table and sofas. I always imagine hearing frowning comments of child psychologists or smart 'super nannies' about these distressing obsessions that preoccupy our child's mind.
Daniel takes cello lessons, which are to channel his youthful aggressions into the lofty spheres of artistic expression while simultaniously developing superior listening skills and appreciation for the great works of human kind. Equipped with these faculties I thought he would withstand the adverse influences of our violent and destructive peripherals.
And indead, when his cello is finally released from the darkness of its case for practicing a new tune (upon his teacher 's menacing accounts on the use of leather belts on idle students in his native Romania) the sounds produced on the battered instrument are mostly of natural musicality and touching warmth and promise to yield for him a glorious future as 'Lord of the Strings'.
To sum it all up: there is still a 'long and winding road' in front, but with enough imagination and clairvoyance I can see it eventually all falling into place for our dear, adorable, disorderly, devoted, dreamy and divine Daniel!
Happy Birthday!

Daniel's birthday: November 11

Written for Daniel in 2007 (the year of his BarMitzva)

Daniel in the Lion's Den

Oh Danny Boy, your dreams, your dreams are calling
From eve to night and late into the day,
And when in darkness shooting stars keep falling
The world’s asleep, just you’re in dreams awake.

And when you rise with stardust on your lashes
With rosy cheeks and red bedazzled eyes
The bed’s a mess; the candle’s burned to ashes
And just your hair stands up electrified.

Oh Danny Boy, your lions are all sleeping,
So are your rats, your books, your Playmobile.
Your den may soon release its magic ceiling
For you to spacewalk just a little while.

And when you come back from your strange adventures
With glowing face and big bedazzled eyes,
Your blankets carried you through dark and danger,
And just your hair’s again electrified.

November 2008

It's done! At last here is a space for sharing with you my drawings, stories, pictures and other stuff. I'm all exited with building this space and adding to it through the upcoming winter! Hope, you will join me!