You are now entering the Jewish Currents archive.

The Last Resort: An Old Dog Learns New Tricks

Lawrence Bush
December 8, 2016

by Albert Vorspan


I tell you straight and it’s not funny

I’m 92, retired, and need more money

I tried to imitate Gilbert and Sullivan patter

But I can neither sing nor rhyme, so it didn’t matter

I started a novel about the civil rights fight

Editors said This is Trump time, get lost, good night

But, lo, kind fortune finally appeared

(though it sounds unlikely and a little weird) —

My kids were reading a book by Shel Silverstein

With offbeat poems marinated in mirth

The guy enlivens life from death to birth

So why can’t I just be like him

And take the ball right to the rim ?

If you care to hear my song

Just ring the bells and hear my bong

And the proposed book will surely seem

A youthful echo of Shel Silverstein

All hail this iconoclast now long dead

It’s not just kids who assure that he’s still read

But folks who’d rather laugh than cry to bed

So far no publisher has been keen

To publish the Vorspan sequel to Silverstein

It will happen, I foresee,

When apples grow on a cherry tree

So gather ’round and you will see

A worthy successor -- and it is ME

But if perchance you are not aware of either name

You have my deepest sympathy -- and much disdain.


Remember when we rocked the boat

To guarantee black folks the right to vote?

We appealed to the courts long days and nights

To safeguard women and disability rights,

To make sure George Wallace and his alt-right flock

Could not use states’ rights to turn back the clock . . .

But now the tables have really turned.

A new president threatens rights so richly earned.

You’d never guess the strategy, heaven-sent

To save our liberties and the environment:

All hail states’ rights! Come sing with me!

Don’t even dare invade my privacy.

We live in grown-up states, and you will see

They’ll safeguard rights for you and me.

If you want to californicate, have no care,

And if you can make it in New York, you’ll make it anywhere.

So Trump is up, but we’re not down.

Our brand of states’ rights has come to town!

Trump may rage and kvetch to Putin

But he’ll be constrained by our Constitution.

So psychiatrists all, wherever you may shrink,

Tell the people that, although the election stinks,

If they live in states on either coast

They can share a drink and say a toast.

Our good ol’ USA is not a ghost.

But --

If you happen to live in a shiny red state,

Congratulations. Enjoy your fate.


The shock is fading, the sadness grows,

Where we are headed, God only knows.

But the time has come to face the truth:

The dream we dreamed is now kaput.

The dream we dreamed on the mountaintop

Has come to a heartbreaking, tragic stop,

In World War II, I lost my ship to a suicide plane.

Now suddenly, at ninety-two, I feel lost at sea again.

And each of us must think it through:

What is lost, and what’s still true.

For me, the end-of-life stuff is quite real

Nobody can know just how I feel:

My wife and I have shared seventy years,

Enriched by love, now filled with tears.

My wife has Alzheimers, advanced I fear . . .

When we were young, we used to wonder whether

Some day we might arrange to die together.

Now I hold her tight all night and cry,

Trying to think of reasons not to die.

I’m elderly, and filled with rage,

(Which is probably normal at this stage).

The folks here who are in the know

Say dying in your sleep is the way to go

There are still some laughs, believe it or not,

Like when Shirley says I forget what I forgot

And when she is irritated by the pace

She says: How do we get out of this fucking place?

Shirley suffers no Trump-inspired pain.

He has no admission to her brain,

But I know it would have torn her asunder

To see our gains lost through political blunder.

Some claim it was jobs, coal, and trade they protested

Certainly not that black guy we elected

But the browning of America is, to many, a no-no

(Even in the Jewish neighborhoods I used to know)

And Black Lives Matter drives them nuts

(All blacks are criminals, junkies, and sluts.)

Nu? The election’s over, the dream is shattered

Now kiss goodbye the things that mattered

But wait, my friend, you’re giving up much too fast.

Abandoning the good because of what just passed?

Our values haven’t vanished, though everything ends —

We have children and grandchildren — and they have friends.

A new generation is now emerging

And you don’t need CNN to see them surging

They do not share a legacy of hate

They are not hostage to past fate

They will grow and learn to share

They’re there — they care — they know what’s fair.

So, my friends, forget our perfect offerings

Our kids — and theirs — will make us sing

And even the sick, old, and broken will know

That America is already great — and still can grow

It doesn’t take a goniff -- it’s the people who will grant it

America will be renewed, and in the process, save the planet.

Albert Vorspan is the senior vice-president emeritus of the Union for Reform Judaism and former director of the Commission on Social Action of Reform Judaism. He was integral in the establishment of the Religious Action Center in Washington, DC. He is the author of several books on Judaism and social justice, as well as a number of books of Jewish humor published by Doubleday.

​​​​Lawrence Bush edited Jewish Currents from 2003 until 2018. He is the author of Bessie: A Novel of Love and Revolution and Waiting for God: The Spiritual Explorations of a Reluctant Atheist, among other books. His new volume of illustrated Torah commentaries, American Torah Toons 2, is scheduled for publication this year.