Tuesday, May 26, 2020

Oh Dear

I have just now written a grampa poem based on perusal of photo-archives and remembered stories from relatives. It could be a ballad if I could rhyme things oftener, but I'm happy with it. Hope you are too. --Geo.

Oh dear, what shall
I do, and what good will
It do when I do it?
Grampa took a train
As far as he could,
Hired a boat by the bay.
He made his way through
Thoroughfares, Bedlam,
Where squares became
Parallelograms --in defeat,
Buildings lunged onto streets.
He found my great aunt Ann,
And likewise uncle Joe,
Gave them cash, food, wine.
So they got though it fine.
Grampa was a good man,
As angels grade themselves.
He never spoke of his good works
Then died when I was twelve.


  1. Very nicely done, Geo. Even though you were only 12 when he died, you did get to know him and he you. That is a blessing.

    I did have to look up Parallelograms. I was never good at Geometry and still have nightmares of being in the class and not understanding anything the teacher was saying.

    1. Dear Beautiful Arleen, I remember high school geometry class --being selected to solve the existence of a right angle on the overhead projector in front of the whole class, by axiom and progressive logic. I finally addressed the teacher after searching my brain: "Ma'am, there are some truths held to be self-evident, and a 90 degree angle is one of them." Unfortunately this reference to the Declaration Of Independence was rejected and I pulled a "D" out of geometry. I couldn't do any better if it was yesterday instead of 55 years ago.

  2. That house definitely has a bit of a lean to it. Do you know the story behind it?

    It seems the best folks never do toot their own horns. You were not very old when he passed. I hope you had good memories to tuck away.

    1. 0_Jenny, Grampa was one of the most sensible men I ever knew. He was Baptised in 1872, but because the family lived far from any church, he may have been somewhat older. He died in 1962,so he was around 90. I know he kept a general store at 4th and L streets and the back door gave onto his saloon. In 1914, he sold up and bought a house along the Sacramento river, built a gas station. That's where I was born. I had 12 years of his company and he was always kind to me. I have his tobacco pipe and "pistola" in a shadowbox in my back porch. Many records fail to follow people of the "Wild West" in their transition into the 20th century. Grampa did fine.

    2. Ninety was an uncommon age to reach back then - he must have had good genes and lived a healthy life. Now that you mention the shadowbox I believe I remember you posting it. Your grampa is still doing fine - he's firmly in your heart and living on through you. Thanks for the additional backstory, Geo.

  3. I could hear music when I read the lines.
    I love it.

    1. Dear Rick, High praise from a musically skilled man. Thank you!

  4. Replies
    1. Thank you Azka Kamil, and best of luck with your insurance products in Java.

  5. I'm sorry you lost him that early. The last line really stings. He sounds like a phenomenal soul, as is his grandson.

    1. Dear Robyn, last the last line stings --full scene? Priest came into Grampa's room and commenced Viaticum --Last Rites-- and Grampa told him to "geet th' Hell" outta here!" Truly a remarkable soul --one that still provides me with strength.


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