The Laundryman’s Granddaughter by Arlene Kramer Richards

The Laundryman’s Granddaughter : Poems by Arlene Kramer Richards
Introduction by Irene Willis

When I learned that her husband, Arnie Richards, was planning to bring out a new edition of Arlene Kramer Richards’ book of poems under his publishing imprint, IPBooks, I was delighted.  It’s a pleasure to introduce new readers to poems I first saw at their inception in the 1970’s.  To those of us who remember those days so well, it was yesterday; to many of you, young enough to be our children, it will seem like ancient history.

Longtime friendships are to be cherished, especially in perilous times like these.  Arlene and Arnie have been dear friends for a long time.

I know I’ve spoken before about how I met these two, but this is the first time I’ve had a chance to write about it.
Arlene and I first said hello in an elevator at the 92^nd Street Y, on our way upstairs to a poetry workshop by Erica Jong, who had been a well-known poet before she came out with the book that pushed feminism to a new dimension, Fear of Flying, and emboldened all of us.  This was when we all lived in Manhattan, some on the Upper West (Arlene and Erica) and some on the Upper East Side (me).  The workshop soon moved, at Erica’s behest, to her apartment near the Museum of Natural History, as I recall.  There were thirteen of us, all proud to be there after what had been competitive selection. We became friends, helping each other get started as “real poets.”  We all stayed in touch, even as our lives took different paths.  Arlene went on to graduate school at Columbia for her Ed.D.  I already had my M.A. from New York University and the rest of my graduate education was to come later.

One of our group, Laurel Blossom, stayed in touch with us through the years, and we are still friends today.  A couple of our members died, but enough said about that.

While still living near to each other, Arlene and I decided to collaborate on some young adult books (and made a lot more in royalties from them that we ever did with poems). One, How To Get It Together When Your Parents Are Coming Apart, became quite well-known and even resulted in an invitation by the Japanese to translate it into their language.  Although they send us statements, incidentally, they never actually paid us any royalties, despite repeated requests and the small payment they gave our publisher for permission.  Obviously, it still rankles, which is why I mention it here. I should also mention that it was Arnie who suggested the wonderful title for the first of our books together. The other three we did together were Leaving Home, Boyfriends, Girlfriends, Just Friends, and What to Do If You or Someone You Know Is Under Eighteen and Pregnant.  The last of these, well-publicized as always by a major publisher, garnered an award from the American Library Association as a “Best Book of 1993 for the Teenage.” We were proud of these accomplishments, but continued with our professional careers, I as an educator and she as a psychotherapist and later as a psychoanalyst.

So, there you have it: my tribute to Arlene Kramer Richards’ poems in their second appearance, a thank-you to Arnold Richards for doing this, and a great big Happy Birthday, replete with hugs and kisses for you, dear friend.

About Arlene’s book: I wish the title were not about a woman being some man’s wife, daughter, or even, as this is, granddaughter – but it was a different time, and this is how we all saw ourselves.  At any rate, the child we see in these poems, trundling along in her grandfather’s laundry cart, is a charmer, and so are the poems that follow her through her growing up.  As for the poems, they are strongly in the tradition of what is called “working-class” poetry, usually showing the strength that comes from that early experience and the resilience that enables one to move on through socio-economic hierarchy to a solidly middle or upper middle-class life.  It was easier then than it is now.

Re-reading the poems, many favorite lines leap out at me again, as if from memory itself.  In “Retired” on p. 3, the speaker says to an old man, “all your senses retired before you did.  “Post Office” (p.7), “I walk my loneliness, my excuse for a dog …” This whole short poem one of my most loved in the book.  On p.8 we meet Bag Lady, who “birdwings her fingers/over the bags/under her eyes.”  Wonderful image.  The whole poem Sauna on p. 16 gives us a scene that will be familiar to all who have shared such an experience, but the stanza that ends with “how to wait until the rings under her eyes are slipped out onto the finger of death” is brilliant, as are the lines in Dying (p.18): “I made you the man who pulls brilliant tomorrows/ from the leaves …”  And finally, in Tell Me (p. 20): “Got any Halloween-headed kids around?/ I’m ready for a fright.”