When I Was Brand New by Oren Shafir

On the night I was born
My Dad used one of the two tickets he'd bought
To hear Frank Sinatra sing
Why Frankie decided to perform in Beer Sheva, Israel of all places
I do not know


My Mom was somewhat terrified
The first two births had gone reasonably well
But still they hurt like hell
And now here she was again, only 23
In a hospital in a foreign land
In the middle of the goddamned desert

She'd made friends with a lady doctor from Argentina
Who knew the latest in newfangled natural birth techniques
The lady doctor didn't really speak English
Mom didn't really speak Hebrew or Spanish
But I guess in those days you didn't need a common language to be friends
In Beer Sheva in the middle of the desert

The lady doctor promised to be there for the birth
Whether she was on duty or not
My Dad's Mom promised to come out and watch the other babies
My Mom promised the lady doctor would be godmother
My Dad didn't promise anything

So Mom ended up
In a hospital full of clunky metal beds, drab beige walls and stone floors
Which echoed the shrieks of immigrant women from Lodz and Minsk, Tripoli and Cairo
But she and her lady doctor friend
Blocked out the animal screams, and the mechanical rattle of primitive hospital machinery
They puffed and breathed, they pushed and panted
They concentrated unremittingly on the mission at hand

Meanwhile Dad sat under the desert moon
Listening to Sinatra's soft voice carry
Through the hot dry air
Across the thick purple sky
On and on through the silent night
Dad must have wondered how far Sinatra's voice would carry

Frankie must have had one of the those big shiny rectangular mikes on a stand
Can you see him swaying forward? Can you hear him singing:
"When I was 21, it was a very good year"
Frankie was 47; my Dad was 34, and I was brand new