Poetic and Musical Farewell to Endre Dobay, Susan's Bandi

Endre Dobay with Susan Dobay's painting Musicscape

On March 12, 2016, poets, artists, musicians, and friends gathered at the Scenic Drive Gallery in Monrovia for a farewell and memorial event dedicated to Endre Dobay, husband of eminent Hungarian-American artist, Susan Dobay, and co-owner of the Gallery.

The invitation said: "The versatile, talented, kind, compassionate, humble, husband of Susan, father of Vivian and Andrew, and the grandfather of Geoffrey and Mathew has moved to another dimension.
A mechanical engineer, a family man, and a supporter of all art forms which he respected and loved . With his wife artist Susan he was the proprietor of the Scenic Drive Gallery."

Portrait of Andrew by his mother, Susan, print by his father, Endre, with Jean Sudbury's violin

Photo by Maja Trochimczyk

Endre's prints of his wife's works and of the works by Kathabela Wilson were on display along with a selection of exhibition catalogues that he created for Susan. The artist also selected some family photos and those from among her paintings that were Endre's favorites. Guests brought flowers, poems and cards, some handmade, some carefully selected to express their appreciation for the many gifts of Endre, our Bandi.

The poetic and musical afternoon started with Jean Sudbury, violin, and Rick Wilson, Hungarian folk flute, performing a selection of music to set the audience in a nostalgic yet celebratory mood. Rick accompanied the poets throughout the reading, and Jean played more pieces that would have gladdened Endre's heart. Penelope Torribio accompanied herself on a guitar in two songs; Pauli Dutton sang away to the accompaniment of a red ukulele, and poets shared their reflections about this "kindest of men."  Some of the poems are reproduced below, with permission of the poets, to honor the memory of a silent, thoughtful, and kind man, loved by all.

For dear Bandi, a Prelude

youngest boy
middle child of nine
sent to family
for the summer
when I grow up,  he said
“I want to be a guest”

he was the best host
he welcomed us
with his eyes
took my face
in his hands and filled
our glasses with love

I send a thousand noisy kisses
out into the universe
for another hello

Bandi I could  only write a prelude
an overture
to the opera you loved
an opening act of many
I wish to write for you
it is all we can do in this time of ours
our many beginnings--

there is no end to love
to this romantic story
how we are always only starting
to learn our lines
yours to us, ours to you
"we are so fortunate
to have you in our lives!"

~Kath Abela Wilson
your “Katika”

Endre Dobay

by Pauli Dutton

Susan’s mom started it all
when she noticed the young man
she asked him 
you not like my pretty daughter?
why you not ask her to dance?

the handsome college boy
took the young beauty
in his arms 
their waltz began sixty years
of acreativelove filled life

when she turned 19
Endre and Susan married 
daringly the twoleft 
their homeland to walk
across the Hungarian border

with other refugees they 
took a train to Austria
the pair settled in the states
where Endre worked as 
a mechanical engineer

Susan says Endre
could build anything
with her inspiration
they built a home
for their family and the arts

the Scenic Galley
has celebrated sculptors
photographers, writers
painters and musicians
while host Endre poured the wine

Susan was the motor 
that kept Endre running
through every new
creative project
they complemented one other

Susan the artist found
loving support through Endre
photographer/printer
the sound wiz helped her create 
new forms of media

their joint visual
interpretations of music
can now be enjoyed 
by all on youtube
thanks to Endre

Endre we know you continue
to watch over Susan 
as your love still fills the gallery
we hear your echo asking
would you like another glass?

 Bandi and Susan listen to a reading by Just Kibbe, Monrovia, 2012

Bandi

camera suspended from his neck
gentle brown eyes search the room
to catch light and shadows
arrangements of colorful art
and us -- his friends
he had many

by Erika Wilk

Jean Sudbury, Kathabela Wilson, Endre Dobay and Maja Trochimczyk, 2012

The man I did not know

    ~ for Endre Dobay in memoriam

I did not know the boy –
That tall, serious teen, always reading
Books, or fixing bikes of local children

I did not know the man –
What happened?why he left his home 
Who died? … I did not know
The man who fell in love, married, 
had children –  a son and daughter. . . 
All in the new country,  in a new house, 
Nested on the slope of a magnificent mountain 
Where bears wander down the streets
And take baths in neighbors’ swimming pools, 
Where mocking birds, sing away tunes 
Stolen from car alarms and clock chimes, 
And birds sometimes sit quietly in the branches 
Of the old hibiscus outside the kitchen window
Watching him work.

Yes, the charming one – his eyes spoke volumes 
Even if his mouth did not move
Except for that hint of a smile in the corner –
Yes, I knew Susan’s husband
Silent, supportive, quietly amused
By the poets’ antics.

I knew Bandi of talented artist’s hands, 
Deep philosopher’s insights. I remember him
Watching over us, filming dialogues, 
Seeking goodness , beauty, truth –

Now he found it and we lost him for  a bit, 
Until we find our own goodness and beauty
In the everlasting truth – when we join him 
In the light that draws us nearer 
As it drew him into that brilliant column  
Stretching straight up into heaven 
Taking him higher, higher –
Into the constellation of the blessed

© 2016 by Maja Trochimczyk

Bandi and Susan attend my presentation at the Wilsons' salon, December 2011

I also read my poem inspired by Susan's painting "City Whispers" from the "Awakenings" project of Poets on Site. I got a print of that painting made by Bandi and it is on the wall in my house.  The poem with an image of the painting, published in "On Awakenings" book edited by Kathabela Wilson is reproduced in my Easter 2011 post. 

At the end, I read my participatory poem, "Repeat after me" with a revised ending. I reproduced the previous version of the poem on the blog from this spring, from a reading with Beverly M. Collins at Phoenix House.  http://poetrylaurels.blogspot.com/2016/03/black-history-month-at-phoenix-house.html

Daffodils, tulips, roses and lilac for Bandi and Susan

Almost the last to arrive and the last to read was poet and light-giver Susan Rogers, who wrote out her poem on a card with a drawing of the tree, as strong and solid as Bandi was, an oak or a banyan tree with deep roots in the earth and the branches reaching out to heaven. 

Poem by Susan Rogers, with her drawing of a banyan tree.

Collection of photos of Bandi assembled by Susan Dobay.

For more photographs from the Celebration of Life event visit my Picasa Web Album: 

Endre Dobay Memorial 2016.

Finally, here's a report from the Celebration of Life assembled by 

an artist and musician, Penelope Torribio and published on YouTube:

Poets at Madame Butterfly event at the Scenic Drive Gallery, with Mariko Kitakubo, Photo by Endre Dobay, 2014

Thank you, Bandi! 

Black History Month at Phoenix House with Beverly M. Collins

Beverly M. Collins, Maja Trochimczyk and Akilah Templeton at 

Phoenix House Venice with Beverly's book Mud in Magic

On February 24, 2016, residents of Phoenix House Venice celebrated the Black History Month with poetry. The evening, hosted by Program Director Akilah Templeton, featured poetry readings by residents, dealing with issues of recovery, solidarity, personal relationships, and life advice. At the end two guest poets read their work: I was joined by Beverly M. Collins , an accomplished African-American poet of wit and wisdom, who presented selections from her recently published book Mud in Magic (Moonrise Press, 2015).  Ms. Collins donated a copy of her book to the Phoenix House growing poetry library. 

Ms. Templeton encouraged clients to write poetry during the entire month of February, or to read poetry books in search of a poem that moves them or expresses some of their personal feelings. Some residents decided to read verse by famous author like Langston Hughes or Maya Angelou. Others wrote their own verse, using a free verse format or various rhyme scheme.  

Beverly Collins read two poems selected from her book, Mud in Magic, "Next" and "Up for Air"  - both with topical advice suitable for individuals in recovery, struggling with the dead weight of their past. 

Beverly M. Collins

 It is important, said Ms. Collins, to always look forward, to give ourselves a break and not be too hard on ourselves for past mistakes. There is always hope, always time to fix things, to start anew, to say...

Next

From the tip-top of January
to the bottom of every December,
life is a continuum.
May we remember to remember.

There are no platforms on which we
halt. No arrivals at which we are landing. 
There is only continuous movement.
Blend motion into all planning.

Next is a good four letter word that dances
on the tongue and illuminates the playgrounds
of our minds. Next can call loudly or soft
and subtle when it chimes.

Within the cold of winter remember next are
the fragrant flowers of spring. Next reminds us 
there is no be-all or end-all to anything.

When riding a high tide or if a low tide 
has you feeling sadness or perplexed, 
know true muscle can be found
in how well we just say... Next!

(C) 2015 by Beverly M. Collins

Up for Air

Cuddled at midnight, with my pillow of dread,

I and apprehension lay like spoons in my bed.

My suffocating “To Do” list, too long for one person.

Its tedious tasks make my aching head worsen.

My stubborn impatience has landed me here.

I want it all now. I want it last year.

I hold anger so big over things that are small,

like my neighbor’s loud laughter while

bouncing a ball.

I can choose to narrow my focus singly on a plan,

long enough to get myself fully in hand.

Wrapped warm in my blankets, my emotions are bare

as I promise myself, to pull me up for air.

 (c) 2015 by Beverly M. Collins

After Beverly, I read a new poem written especially for this occasion and starting from a line that connected the word "Slav" (for my ethnic identity) to its Latin root "Sclave" ("slave" - the Romans used to invade the lands of Slavs to kidnap them and make them into slaves) and the English word derived from "sclave" - "Slave."

No More

Slav, Sclave, Slave  

We are all one – under  

That thumb of powers that be  

Of powers that do not want us to be,   

To become free, creative, enlightened

Slav, Sclave, Slave  

We are all one, united  

In the will to connect, all one  

In compassion, in awareness  

Of the ground under our feet,  

The warm soil with trees growing roots,   

With sparkling clean water  

Flowing to fill us.

Made of water and stardust,   

We are all one under the sun
Rays reaching down to touch  

Our skin, nourish our muscles.

No, we are not slaves  

We claim our freedom  

To be wise – To be kind  

To carry each other’s burdens  

To stand tall, walk forward,  

Together –

(C) 2016 by Maja Trochimczyk

At the end, I read the group participation poem that I wrote especially for Venice several months ago, with a new ending, trying out if it works better than the old one... After the introduction and explanation, the audience repeats every phrase read by the poet.

Repeat After Me

                     After Prayer for Fukushima Waters  by  Dr. Masaru Emoto.

                    Water, we are sorry / Water, please forgive us

                    Water, we thank you / Water, we love you

Yes, you can find it. /your way out./
It is so simple. /First you say:/

I AM SORRY / – WE ARE SO SORRY./
We are the guilty ones,/ we are all at fault!
What happens next? /The door opens./
We stop at the threshold and say:/

PLEASE FORGIVE ME, / I FORGIVE YOU./
Forgiveness erases all your guilt,/
all my fears, all our sorrows /– the burden
of dead thoughts is lifted./ See?/
We float up into brightness./ We are 
sparks of starlight, /a constellation
dancing in the sky/ as we say:/

THANK YOU,/ THANK YOU VERY MUCH./
Filled with gratitude /

for every cloud, leaf and petal, /

every breath we take,/ every heartbeat, /

/we are ready, at last,/

to say what’s the most important:/

I LOVE YOU, MY LOVE, /
I give you all the love /
of my tired, aching heart /

I LOVE YOU, MY LOVE, /
I give you all the love /
of my tranquil, grateful heart!

                                                                          © 2015 by Maja Trochimczyk

Love the Sweetest, Angel Love - Quotes and Poems from Friends and Strangers

What is Love, if not a trip to Paradise? What is Paradise if not the place/time or time/place beyond place, beyond time, spent with those we love? So here's another Valentine's Day post, one in a series, with love poems and beautiful words of reassurance, compassion, and affection received from friends and strangers.

Jessica and Juan Cardenas celebrate with guests, February 6, 2016

First, friends.... Last weekend, I hosted the second anniversary party for the love-birds, Jessica Wilson Cardenas and Juan Cardenas at my home, a garden-party on a beautiful, sunny afternoon, filled of affection, music, poetry, and joy....

Jessica Wilson Cardenas and Juan Cardenas with their brand new T-shirts "Feel This Love"

We read poetry, and my poem "On Divine Commedy and Ice Cream" was inspired by illuminations for Dante's Il Paradiso by Giovanni di Paolo, a contemporary of Giotto. One of our guests, Victor Sotomayor recorded my reading and made a beautiful video of the performance, with a mini-lecture introduction about Il Paradiso and what it means for us.




On Divine Comedy and Ice-Cream

My Muse has chocolate eyes and a goatee.
Disabled by grief, he looks for me in the dark,
touching. His hands outline the contour
of my hips as he sighs and says “that’s right”
in this deep baritone of his, the sweetest of voices. 

What next? I wonder as we sit on the leather sofa
sticky in the heat, eat almonds and ice cream,
watch silly comedies about aliens and time 
machines, friends being excellent  to each other... 
as we leaf through the thick volume 
of other Comedy, the Divine one: 
Il Paradiso illustrated by Giovanni di Paolo,
medieval illuminations for the end of time.

Submerged  in the Earth’s shadow, the Moon 
is the haven for the likes of us, inconstant,
waxing and waning, not keeping their vows.
Dante and Beatrix, the poet and his beloved,
rise up to Mercury and Venus, the Garden 
of Earthly Delights where we stay 
as they ascend from the Fourth Sphere
of the Sun through the Eight of Fixed Stars.

Left behind, we sigh and look up at them
floating to meet the wise, the virtuous, martyrs,
saints, the multitude of angels in Primum Mobile
and the blessed, don’t forget the blessed
of the Tenth Sphere, the divine Empyrean –
in the heart of Paradise where gold rays 
of light always permeate everything, 
where saints sleep in rose petal pods, 

like babies by their mothers, 
or splash in and out of the waters of grace,
the river of serenity that flows under
the buzzing of heavenly bees, making 
timeless honey – sweet, translucent, 
gold honey, only honey, forever and beyond time, 
honey….

(C) 2016 by Maja Trochimczyk

After this visit to Paradise, Juan played some of his songs, Jessica read her sensuous poem about Grapefruit, mmm, so goood... and we had such a blessed afternoon, in Paradise, the Garden of Earthly Delights...

Me encanta las toronjas,

the blossom of fragrance makes its way into my hands,
unfolds like petals upon my skin.
The weight of its shape is heavy
with intention,
to release its galaxy, an ointment of pleasure
sparkling in a rippling tide. 
This is the fruit of the sun, 
its sunshine dripping off of my lips,
squeezed into realness, of comfort.
Juicy nature jugs me from the inside,
pulling my belly up into my throat,
until it lays flat on my tongue.
so few things are as gratifying as this orb of citrus,
so perfectly awake and wide for me to taste.
Ah, me encanta la fruta hecha de las manos 
de los dioses, y tan perfecto en circulo
como las caras de la luna y sol.
Yo toco el sabor con la esperanza
del mundo donde la gente hacen la paz de simplicidad 
y la naturalesa de Pachamamma por siempre,
donde nuestros labios nunca tienen sed
y las pansitas viven llenas. 
Oh let it be, that this dream will see us through 

to our eternity.             - Amen y por siempre, Amen. 

(c) by Jessica Wilson Cardenas

Then the "love-birds" had two cakes with two candles each, for the second year together: a white cheesecake for the day, and dark chocolate ganache cake for the night... Sweet, with a multitude of fruit, that belongs in paradise where every one is loved and loves.

Thank God for friends for all times... Several weeks earlier I received an invitation to participate in an email "chain letter" - something I studiously managed to avoid for so long! Despite the curses and threats and vain promises made by authors of missives assuring me of good or bad luck, depending on whether I forwarded the silly note within five minutes to twenty people.  Here's an example. I did not email it to 20 people; instead I'm posting it here:

This is for u x Read till the end! I sent an angel to watch over you last night, but it came back and asked "why?" The angel said, "angels don't watch over angels!" twenty angels are in your world. Ten are sleeping, nine of them are playing and one is reading this message. The universe has seen you struggling with some things and says it over. a blessing is coming your way. If you believe in Karma send this message to 14 friends including me, if I don't get it back I guess I'm not one of them. As soon as you get 5 replies, someone you love will quietly surprise you... Not joking. Pass this message on. Please don't ignore it. you are being tested and Karma is going to fix two big things tonight in your favor. If you believe in Karma drop everything and pass it on TOMORROW WILL BE THE BEST DAY OF YOUR LIFE. DON'T BREAK THIS. SEND THIS TO 14 FRIENDS IN 10 MINUTES IT'S NOT THAT HARD. WHOEVER SENT THIS TO YOU MUST CARE ABOUT YOU!!!

That other one was different, there were no threats of "breaking the chain" and punishments for it. Instead, it entailed sending a friendly, encouraging note to just one person and inviting twenty to do the same, so one person would receive twenty notes of friendship and encouragement from complete strangers... This seems interesting... what would people come up with? So I sent my favorite Irish blessing of light, and waited...

May the blessing of Light be on you. 

Light without and light within, 

May the blessed sunlight shine on you. 

And warm your heart till it glows like a great peat fire...

Not much later, I received my first words of encouragement. I like this phrase so much I put it on my own "candy rose" - covered entirely in water droplets - and sent it to the poet who blessed me with this insight:

Then, I got a poem by Rumi:

Beyond ideas of

right and wrong

there is a field,

I will meet

you there.

                                ~  Rumi

from Maria Elena B. Meyer

Another poet I hardly know send me a quote and his own poem:

Here is a quote and "short" play-with-a-sweet-word poem by me to you.

 “Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice, but for those who love, time is eternity.” – Henry Van Dyke

*************************

SHORT AND SWEET

by Ken Frankel

Butter ....is sweet!

Ice cream ....is sweet!

Beauty ...is sweet!

Love is the sweetest.

*************************

Hard to argue with that final statement!. Finally, a poem from Lulu Abramian came my way:

Measure

Do not measure up

Life is not quantity

Value what you have

Life is quality

Where you are going

Will always be there

Treasure the moments

Will help you get there

 By: Lulu Abramian

Finally, I got a comment from a poet, who decided against participating in the email chain, but sent me her favorite prayer:

The Lord is my shepherd, 

I shall not want;...

in green pastures...

beside still waters 

He restoreth my soul.

While looking for the text of the Irish Blessing of Light cited above, I came across a full text of what appears to be a folk-song, of love, connections to nature, the sun, the living things, and the earth and, in short, connection.  People are social animals, without other people they wither and die inside. The connection of love is vital for life. Maybe that's why the two words in English differ only by one consonant?

Here's the entire Irish Blessing Text from a Folk Song:

1. May the blessing of Light be on you
Light without and light within,
May the blessed sunlight shine on you
And warm your heart till it glows like
A great peat fire, so that the stranger
May come and warm himself at it,
And also a friend.
And may the light shine out of the two eyes of you,
Like a candle set in two windows of a house,
Bidding the wanderer to come in out of the storm.

2. And may the blessing of the Rain be on you
The soft sweet rain. May it fall upon your spirit
So that all the little flowers may spring up,
And shed their sweetness on the air.
And may the blessing of the Great Rains be on
You, may they beat upon your spirit
And wash it fair and clean,
And leave there many a shining pool
Where the blue of heaven shines,
And sometimes a star.

3. And may the blessing of the Earth be on you
The great round earth; may you ever have
A kindly greeting for them you pass
As you're going along the roads.
May the earth be soft under you when you rest upon it,
Tired at the end of the day,
And may it rest easy over you when,
At the last, you lay out under it;
May it rest so lightly over you,
That your soul may be out from under it quickly,
And up, and off, and on its way to God.

Isn't it delightful, and full of sweet, gracious sentiments, connecting us to the earth, the air, the sunlight? Yes, I say, as I celebrate my new Italian nickname, courtesy of erudite and wise poet and editor Margaret Ute Seine: "Una Donna Solare" - the Sunny Lady....

And here we are, all smiles: sisters in spirit, in poetry, in art... after the LoveLoveLove reading (Spectrum 3, edited by Don Kingfisher Campbell) in Pasadena, with the inspired Ambika Talwar, who knows secrets of ancient wisdom and unties hidden knots... she had 22 photos in the book, I had just one poem ("Many Happy Returns"), and a bell, let's not forget the bell....