So my husband got to say a few words at the dedication of the plaque at James Thurber’s old house in Columbus (77 Jefferson St., if you want to go), and decides to say a few sweet words about me, bless him.
“And I want to introduce my wife, Patti, who’s a poet, and who has a book that just came out in March.” It was the rabbi’s book; I just have 3 lines in it!
And introducing me as a poet — that’s about as embarassing as if he’d announced, “My wife has a tattoo on her ass!” Which I don’t. But you get the idea. Maybe I’ve been concealing the poetry for so long, that embarassment has become the first emotion to the surface.
white pebble 