The Singing Dentist of Bensonhurst

The Singing Dentist of Bensonhurst

By Raanan Geberer


“When you begin/Begin the beguine/It brings back the night/Of tropical splendor....”

Dr. Pearlman sang as he looked into Rob’s mouth and started poking around, the curbed probe in one hand, the tiny mirror in the other. Ever since Rob had moved to Brooklyn last year, in 1987, his father had tried to get him to see Dr. Pearlman as a dentist because Dr. Pearlman was a cousin and had grown up with his father in the East Bronx, and finally, here he was. Dr. Pearlman’s office was on the second floor of a rundown two-story building on a nondescript commercial street in Bensonhurst whose only redeeming feature was the Italian bakery next door. You walked down a long, narrow hallway to get to Dr. Pearlman’s office.

“A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H/ I got a gal in Kalamazoo/Don’t want to boast but I know she’s the toast/of Kalamazoo...”Rob had never heard of a singing dentist before. Not only does he sing, he thought, but he seems to sing only the songs of his own era, which would be the late 1930s and early ’40s. It’s incredible that this guy is still practicing, he thought. He must be in his late 60s, past retirement age. He idly glanced at the wall – here was a diploma from “New York University Dental School, June 1948.” Probably went to dental school on the G.I. Bill, he thought. Suddenly, he became alarmed when Dr. Pearlman picked up a drill.

“What are you doing with that drill? Aren’t you going to give me an anesthetic or an injection?”

“Well, the X-rays show that the cavity is very small and very near the surface, so we don’t need it. Open your mouth—you’re so good, you’re the best, you’re the champ. Here it comes. I’m not lazy! `I got spurs that jingle jangle jingle/As we go merrily along/And they say, ain’cha glad you’re single/And that song it ain’t too far from wrong’ ...You’re doing great! Don’t worry about anything. I’m the master! `In ‘76 the sky was red/Thunder rumbling overhead/King George couldn’t sleep in his bed/And on that morn/Uncle Sam was born’...You’re so good! Okay, rinse out your mouth!”

Rob bent over, grabbed a paper cup and rinsed his mouth. He watched the blood going down the drain. He had hardly felt anything. “There! That wasn’t so hard, was it? “ Dr. Pearlman asked. “I’m gonna do the filling now! You know, your father did some amazing, heroic things! Like the time he ran into the battlefield and carried the wounded lieutenant on his back to safety! They were gonna give him a medal for that, but, you know how it is!”

Rob had never heard that story before. Then again, his father rarely talked about his past. He was going to ask another question when....

“OK, we’re gonna put in the filling material next. Here it comes! Stay still! I’m not lazy! `Moon over Miami/Shine on as we begin/A dream or two that may come true/As the tide comes in.......’ Okay, just a little bit more. Just stay still. You’re the best! ...Bor’chu es adonai hamvoroch/Boruch atoh adonoi hamvoroch leolom voed/Boruch atoh adonoi/Eloheynoo melech ha’olam ... OK, we’re done here, kid!”

“I heard you singing that Hebrew brocho,” Rob said, referring to the blessing over the Torah that Dr. Pearlman had just intoned. “Wouldn’t those Hasidim I saw in the waiting room object if you sang that when they were here?”

“Fuhgedaboutit!” Dr. Pearlman responded, cheery as ever. “Don’t worry about them. They got nothin’ to say! OK, see you next time?”

“What should I pay?”

“Don’t pay anything! ‘’Cause you’re a relative, I’ll fix the insurance form so the price will be very high, so what they give me will cover what you should pay!”

“You don’t have a secretary?”

“Naah! I used to have a secretary, but if I did now, I’d have to charge you guys more! OK, kid! Give your regards to my father .....NEXT!!!”

Falling in Love by Rhea Lewin Geberer (wife)

Falling In Love

Love
came into
my life

while climbing
down a mountain,
holding onto astonishing roots,
afraid to fall,
afraid of fear.

Crouched and moving,
on a hot sun-lit afternoon,
perspiration making me
a funny face,

a day of wonders
and strange birds
in the sky.

When love came in,
the trees grew branches
before my eyes,
and the flowers deepened,
blues, reds, yellows,

and I needed to stop
for breath;
when I did
I didn’t know
if I could start again --

down the long trail
to the flat earth,
life as time, comings and goings,
after this time, this trip,
this imperfect pink rose given
to me by grace.

Unconditional Cat by Rhea Lewin Geberer (wife)

Unconditional Cat


Gravity's art
white-water falls
greys and amber.

Sculptured spaces
crystalline
dominant grace.

Unconditionally cat,
you awakened me
in a bracelet of greeting,

a circle of eyes, round
bodies of orange light -
I return your reflection

without conditions.

Eyes like fire closed in my arms
tired like a peaceable infant -
I return your meal of affection

without condition.

Love unnamed
unspoken
you hold me

without condition.

Rosh Hashanah by Rhea Lewin Geberer (wife)

Rosh Hashanah Thoughts

Being Jewish
at Rosh Hashanah
is so different
for a woman like me
part-Jew
part-American
Manhattan-West Side
sophisticate,

or so I think
of myself at times;
wearing cool jeans
in my 50s

self-conscious
know-it-all progressive,
ironed with touches feminine
and naive

In the month of Elul
wind and branch
seem the work of God

and I thank Him
and I add to my charity
and I try to be good
but no longer as a child does,

being differently conscious
of goodness and the knowledge
it brings to us

becoming a perceiver
of G-d’s presence.

Limited things,
the mouth’s sudden
bend, words
cheer me

small mitzvahs,
small donations
but many.

There are many people,
many widows
many orphans,

intellects asleep
on lumpy sidewalk --
for many nights --

my favorite cause
I would say, hovering
about them,
Such chutzpah--

I could be their
favorite charity;
no makeup, body-and-
soul-size questionable,
unclouded, I would speak
of a donation
to their pantry
or lunch, and

they in turn
would teach me
to be fearless,
their small donation.

In Rosh Hashanah,
all are
inscribed--
one brimming book.

Long Beach by Rhea Lewin Geberer (wife)

[IN PROGRESS}

Long Beach at Four PM

Silver nitrate
drops of ivory
grey and gold.

Sand plovers walking through
food baskets on our blanket

were white and grey like
the edge of sky,
What colour was the light?
An echo of everything flying and hovering.

Birds flew
and birds walked surely
on legs like stalks.
Puffed body
so pretty.

Silver polished skies
are so many colors
I can’t bear it —
don’t want to leave

for the tall buildings
and cement squares of the city;
though dark blue signs say
we can’t go in the water
today.

Geraniums by Rhea Lewin Geberer (wife)

Waiting for Geraniums


Eight green buds sit
atop a slim stem
like pale ladies
around a table
sipping evening
from warm tea

while I wait
for a red flower
promised by the
season’s passion,
the rose
without thorns.

We together are
holding vigil
at my window,
five leaves and I,
for a geranium
bright as jam

and the long
sitting,
a faithless
wait,
repossesses my
ripening. It is

better
to be born
unprepared,
to reek
of geranium
wine,
red sun
boastful days,
mute dreams,
than to
fold in a
cold hand
of doubt

(though knowing
there will be screams
this summer,
sterile yolks
a few green peaches
broken sleep).

Morning brought
the first streak of pink
and one yellowing leaf,
my dreams fervent
but blank to me
as a white plate.

Turn from
the window,
my scarce heart,
before impatience
decreases you;
the clay will keep
as the pot will be sweetened.


Rhea Lewin Geberer

About My Father by Rhea Lewin Geberer (wife)

About My Father


My face is flushed
with talk and my father --
Israel and Jewish life
before Israel
have made me heady.
The talk is so close
to my heart of all nations,
to the heart not mine
but universal;
all peoples are counted
all persons are me;
I swim like an arrow
through dark blue waves.

I need to cool down
like I need the heat of
my soul deepening.