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Lucia Berlin
(1936-2004)
Lucia, Daughter
Northern lights in the sky
over Alaska her father
deep in mines, engineer
moving from mining
town to town
to tar paper shacks
to a boarding house
to a log cabin in the woods
long johns and a baby sister
then Father off to war.
Waiting for him, waiting
under a treeless sky
air heavy with heat, dust
in El Paso with Granpa
the town dentist, mean
drunk and her mother
shut down, closed off
in a dark bedroom
with a bottle.
Father’s new job: Arizona
a real house in the hills
the bright evening star
in the dark night sky
Mother in pretty dresses
baking cakes, playing bridge
picnics and potlucks
until the next move.
A prestigious position
in Santiago, Chile
a two-story Tudor
green lawns, fruit trees
purple iris, a gardener
Mother in bed all day
with a bottle.
Teenage Lucia the hostess
for her father’s social events
private school, rich friends
skiing, swimming, movies
dressmakers, hairdressers
nightclubs, balls, boys
then a dorm in Albuquerque
her girlfriends still in Chile
married with mansions
busy with children
but after the revolution
all her old friends
murdered
or suicides.
Lucia, Wife
She’s tall, lean, svelte
dark hair, sapphire eyes
at 17 still passive
when her parents reject
her 30-year-old lover
a Mexican-American veteran
throws her out of his car
never sees him again.
A few months later
she marries a sculptor
who rearranges her
hair, clothes, stance
and avoids the draft
with their first son
with a second on the way
he’s off to Italy
on a grant, with a girl
doesn’t see him again
for sixteen years.
A musician called Race
kind, quiet, a good man
talented Harvard grad
from a big warm clan
playing gigs on piano
gone while she’s home
with the babies
in a cheap rural rental
outside Albuquerque.
Dusty, silent except for
horses, cows, chickens, dogs
red chili on strings
drying in the sun
in an old adobe
rounded, wind-softened
the same dirt-brown
as the hard-packed earth
no phone
no stove
no running water
loads of diapers
she’s too alone
this pretty young girl.
Lucia, Lover
Race moves them
to an unheated loft
in New York City
he’s out all night
at his jazz gigs
she’s up all night
typing stories
while wearing gloves
while the kids sleep
in earmuffs and mittens
until a way out arrives
with a bottle of brandy
four tickets to Acapulco
another Harvard man
Race’s buddy Buddy
dark, handsome, rich
bad boy
with a drug problem
offering the sexy allure
of escape to hot sun
sky blue pools
white sand beaches
and crazy love
with a heroin addict.
She bites, writes
bears two more sons
an electric life
flying in Buddy’s plane
landing like crop dusters
for detox and retox
always fearful
of his dealer friends.
To keep him clean
they move away
to another land
live in a palapa
with a thatched palm roof
and a beach sand floor
on the edge
of a coconut grove
surrounded by mountains.
The boys love it there
amidst parrots, flamingoes
spearing eels and fat fish
dark nights in hammocks
swaying under rustling palms
in the soft ocean breeze
heady with gardenias
their paradise life
until Buddy gets bored
and the drug dealers come.
***
Lucia Berlin shared the stories of social outsiders with her own special brand of detachment, humor, and economy, presenting the brutality of blue collar life tempered by her compassion for human frailty. She was relatively unknown until eleven years after her death when a collection of her selected stories hit the New York Times bestseller list.
Born Lucia Brown in Alaska, she spent her childhood in mining towns all over the west. After her mining engineer father got promoted to an executive position, the family lived in Chile in relative luxury. She moved to Albuquerque for college, returning later for graduate school.
Married multiple times, she lived in Manhattan, rural Mexico, and New Mexico. After leaving her third husband, a heroin addict, she took her four young boys and settled in California.
As a single parent, Berlin worked odd jobs including cleaning woman, physician’s assistant, hospital ward clerk, and switchboard operator. Her stories were based on incidents she experienced herself in her difficult life. She would type late at night while the boys were asleep, a bottle of bourbon at her side.
She eventually gave up the booze and remained sober, teaching writing at the San Francisco County Jail, Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics, and University of Colorado Boulder. Lucia Berlin died in California at age 68.
Her books:
A Manual for Cleaning Women: Stories
Evening in Paradise: Stories
Welcome Home: A Memoir
Originally from Boston, Mickey J. Corrigan hides out in the lush ruins of South Florida. She writes pulp fiction, literary crime, and psychological thrillers. Her poems have appeared in literary journals and chapbooks. A collection of biographical poems on 20th century poets is in press with Clare Songbirds Publishing.
