It's Good We Only See Each Other Once a Week
by Phillip Lopate

It's good we only see each other once a week.
A young man about to move in with his fiancée
died of a sudden heart attack at twenty-six.
One hears these stories all the time.
The heart is trained to handle deprivation,
not unforeseen happiness. Just as when you
throw your arms around me I start to overflow,
but then I think of course, where was she before?
I deserve it and a lot more besides—
your love gets soaked up quickly
and I pull back brooding over something
I never had.
But don't stop on that account, keep going.

I was brought up to make
the most of accidental brushes with kindness.
My pleasures were collected almost unawares
from stationary models, like the girl
who sat in front of me in tenth grade,
who let me stroke and braid her golden hair
and never acknowledged it.
I wouldn't know what to do with frontal love;
would I? One snowy winter night in Montreal
I felt so great I danced a flamenco
and insisted that everyone call me Fernando.
But then I was by myself. And last night,
if there are many more nights
like last night with you —
when I think of all my nights of total happiness
I get the panicky sense that the balance
has already tipped,
and I will never again feel free
to pass myself off as a have-not.

Maybe it's good we only see each other once a week.
But don't stop on that account, keep going.


Phillip Lopate, "It's Good We Only See Each Other Once a Week" from At the End of the Day. © 2010 Phillip Lopate published by Marsh Hawk Press. (buy now)

On this day in 1968 the first International Special Olympics Summer Games for young people with intellectual disabilities, organized by Eunice Kennedy Shriver, were held at Soldier Field in Chicago. It was a watershed moment for individuals and families who had lived their lives in the shadows since so-called “mental retardation” was seen as a cause for shame and embarrassment. Few knew that those with developmental disabilities could excel in sports and enjoy the benefits of competition and play.

The games evolved from a summer camp Shriver started in the backyard of her Washington, D.C., home in 1962. She wanted to focus on what the children could do, rather than what they could not.

Months after opening that first summer camp Shriver revealed what had been kept secret for decades: the Kennedys had a sister, Rosemary, who was developmentally disabled, never progressing beyond a fourth-grade level intellectually. In 1941 her father decided she should undergo a lobotomy. The operation was a disaster, leaving Rosemary unable to walk or speak at age 23. She spent the rest of her life in an institution. Rosemary had a profound effect on Eunice Kennedy Shriver and inspired her work with other disabled children.

Be well, do good work, and keep in touch.^®

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