When my grandfather asked me
to take his picture with my Kodak
Brownie Box camera dressed in a
white suit like the picture he had
of his father, I was puzzled.
But now I understand.
He wanted to be remembered.
His Talmudic studies had taught him
that those who are remembered are
never fully dead.
I’ll never forget my grandfather
laughing at Eddie Cantor’s jokes
on the radio, and the magic tricks
he taught me.
I treasure the sword I inherited,
whose sharp blade he had used
on his job as a schneider, cutting
bolts of silk and lace for clothing.
Now I have to find one of my pictures
where I dress exactly like my father.