Check out last Saturday's podcast with Howie Klein. He came from Millbrook to the SFZC at the behest of Alan Marlowe and Diane di Prima in 1973. He migrated eventually to Trungpa land Boulder. Lots of stops along the way. His close friend Barbara Handler wrote this poem for his recent 80th birthday.
Ode to Howie
In 1942 was born
Upon a bright and august morn
A carrot-top with eyes of blue
Who lived across from the Bronx zoo.
He grew to be a strapping lad
Mostly good but sometimes bad
Which prompted his mom to declare
Him a”disgusting animal” with her evening prayer.
Nonetheless, he grew and thrived
At Gompers High School he arrived,
friends with Junior and running track,
graduating with his mind intact.
But then he discovered psychedelics
And all the old forms became but relics
His mind expanded, it grew and grew
Until he wasn’t sure quite what to do.
Then followed adventures near and far
From Millbrook to Arizona he followed his star
from Leary to Bill Haines and other strange men
‘Til he finally found a refuge in zen.
Our hero now settled in Frisco
(This was well before the advent of disco)
But when that came along, he headed to Boulder
To follow and revere another dharma holder.
He worked in construction, built stuff from wood
Acted in The Mikado and knew that he should
Practice each day, then go to Seminary
Where he’d learn to visualize yidams most scary.
He lived with delight at RMDC
And headed the kitchen as a marquis
Did some prostrations and made plenty of jokes
Hanging at campfires with other folks.
But flotation in this dharmic ocean
Was upended by maternal devotion
So off to New York he headed
To care for his mom to whom he felt indebted.
He visited her weekly and learned to bake pies
lived with Mickey and hung with some guys
But he was lonely there and he was bored, too
And wasn’t really sure where to go or what to do.
Life went on and on and on ’til Mom finally passed
But our hero stayed stuck in Piermont until–at last!
In California Roberta wanted a deck for a pool
So off he headed to Guerneville, a sweet red-woodsy jewel.
And there he’s remained baking pies, growing flowers,
Doing calligraphy and sometimes even showers.
Cultivating vegetables, building furniture,
Making a mess, but always a nurturer.
He loves the Sadhana devoutly
And soon will no doubt be
Named umdze of the year
(Not a bad late life career).
And now he’s reached an age to revere
This is it–eighty is here.
Howie’s still funny, kindly, and warm
Still generous, friendly, in fine fettle and form.
To know him is to love him
To love him is to pray
That he stay with us much longer
and continue to play.
And so here I am now to celebrate and say
To my favorite Buddhist Jew A hearty happy birthday to you
