Douglas - Life could be verse : reflections on love, loss, and what really matters

Life Could Be Verse

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available through the Library of Congress

2014 The Bryna Company

ISBN-13: 9780757318474 (Paperback)

ISBN-10: 0757318479 (Paperback)

ISBN-13: 9780757318481 (ePub)

ISBN-10: 0757318487 (ePub)

All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

HCI, its logos, and marks are trademarks of Health Communications, Inc.

Publisher: Health Communications, Inc.

3201 S.W. 15th Street

Deerfield Beach, FL 33442-8190

Cover design by Larissa Hise Henoch
Interior design and formatting by Larissa Hise Henoch and Lawna Patterson Oldfield

For the woman I have been
married to for 60 years.
Anne, I love you.

Friends,

From the first day we met, I knew right away that Kirk Douglas was a man of captivating energy and tremendous talent. I personally love Kirk in tights yelling, I am Spartacus!

Im honored he thought of me for the foreword.

In his latest book, Life Could Be Verse, we are given a very touching and heartfelt glimpse into his life through poetry.

He has been writing poetry since he was eight years old, and from those poems we are able to gather great wisdom and feel his passion for life and family. I hope you enjoy Kirks book of poetryproviding you know how to read!

Each poem is an original and can only be expressed by someone whos lived a very long and fruitful life. His personal experiences are those that many of us can relate to in our lives. His life is an inspiration to everyone. The times spent with his beautiful, loving, and caring wife Anne are always a delight.

Kirk is not only an American icon of the screen but a very loving man. I am honored to call him my friend.

Please buy the book. The words out. Kirk needs money!

Enjoy,

Don Rickles

A SUDDEN STROKE caused me to lose my speech, but I didnt lose my mind. It made me ask questions about myself. Is that ego? I dont know.

Throughout my life I have written poems that express my true feelings. While reading them for this book, I came a little bit closer to understanding who I really am.

I dont like doing anything alone; I always seek help, and this book was no different.

Grace Eboigbe, my assistant, impressed me with her editing skill and creativity. She helped me immensely. I thank her.

David Bender is a professional journalist who became my friend. His comments were also helpful and I thank him, too.

Allison Janse, HCI editor, and her colleague Larissa Henoch surprised me by their acute comments. I thank them as well.

Actors are children,

Who refuse to grow up.

They live in a land of make-believe.

They play sailors, soldiers, and cowboys, too.

Theyre happy when they deceive.

Hard work can get you fame and fortune,

And maybe make you a star.

But nothing will make you happy

Until you know who you are.

ost of my life was spent as an actor who never took the time to know who he really was. For years, I lived in a land of make-believe, slipping in and out of characters for ninety films. I have flubbed just as many scenes in my real life as I have in the reel life of my films.

In 1996, I suffered a debilitating stroke that rendered me speechless. An actor who cant talk, I thought. Is this the end? This caused me to take inventory of my life and ask questions like, Who am I? At the age of 98, I am still looking. I know that I have made mistakes and I have my share of regrets. But overall, life has been very good to me. As they say in Yiddish, It could be verse.

Poetry has been a part of my life from an early age. From schoolyard rhymes to love sonnets, my verses have helped me woo some leading ladies, deal with rejections on screen and off, and even to find my voice again after my stroke. Now, I am happy to share my love of poetry with my grandchildren, who also like to write. Writing is a gift that I hope will stay with them long after I am not.

Here I share some of my memories and the poems they inspired. Well travel back in time to old Hollywood, when times were simpler. I hope you enjoy the journey.

I GREW UP IN AMSTERDAM, NEW YORK, a small town northwest of Albany and Schenectady. My family lived in the last house on the road near the mill and the railroad tracks. I was the only son, in the middle of six sisters. My father emigrated from Russia and couldnt find work in the mills. So, he got himself a horse and a wagon and became a ragman, buying and reselling old rags, pieces of scrap, and junk for pennies. Even in our poor neighborhood, the ragman was the lowest rung on the ladder. And I was the ragmans son.

Pa spent most of his time in the saloon, drinking and fascinating his friends with his stories. I would often sneak in the back and watch everybody listening to Pa, mesmerized; he was such a showman.

But my mother was the one who told me my favorite story.

She was in the kitchen, stirring a pot of soup.

I asked her, Ma, how was I born? She wiped her hands on her apron and scooped me up on her lap.

Well, Issur, she said (thats my real name), it was a sunny winter morning when I saw something out of the window. I looked out and saw a beautiful gold box shimmering in the snow. It was carved with fruits and flowers and suspended from heaven by thin silver strands.

A gold box?!

Yes, a gold box. I threw on my shawl, rushed into the yard, and opened it.

What was in it? What was in it?

You!

Me?

Yes, you! Naked. I wrapped you in my shawl and ran back into the house.

But, Ma, what about the box?

I dont know. When I looked out the window again, it was gone.

But, Ma, why didnt you grab the box and keep it?

Issur, when I found you I was so happy that I couldnt think about anything else.

You lost the gold box?!

Issur, when I found you I was so happy that I couldnt think about anything else.

My mothershe is worth more than any gold box.

WHEN I WAS IN SECOND GRADE, I got a part in the school play. I played the lead, the shoemaker in The Shoemaker and the Elves. Ma was thrilled. She made me a little black apron that tied in the back. On stage, I proudly sang the song Id memorized:

Im Tack Hammer
The shoemaker
I work on shoes
All day

Of course, my mother and sisters were there to watch me. But when I looked out from the stage, I was stunned. My father was standing in the back of the auditorium. He was a gruff man who usually ignored me, but not this time. After the play, he took me out and bought me a vanilla ice cream cone. I felt like my father recognized me for the first time. That cone was better than any Oscar.