(dedicated to the memory of Norman and Janice True - grandparents)
With her garrulous nature
And his taciturn style,
She would sit and talk for hours,
He would listen all the while.
And so the two related,
Maintaining their communicative tie.
It was the very essence of their marriage,
Until the day he died.
Oh, how she would gossip ‘bout the neighbors.
She knew them all by name.
For this was fodder for their grist,
As it was their commerce to sustain.
The two being local merchants
In a tiny rural town
And the state of their investment
Brought the folks from miles around.
Oh, how she crowed about their status,
Bringing goods from near and far:
Cloth for dresses, denim jeans, and sundries,
Fresh eggs, meat, milk, bread, and so much more.
There was a section just for hardware,
Batteries, screws, nails, paint, and locks for doors.
There was even a laundry mat out back;
Theirs was the epitome of a "modern" general store.
And in their toughest money times,
Their patrons found true Christian relief,
A 3x5 card made out for credit
For wanting households with honest needs.
But she could rail against the sinners,
The drunkards and the thieves.
And those rascals knew to stay clear of her store
Lest she would share their dastardly deeds.
And on the front porch of an evening
She would keep him up to date,
Rocking and reading the paper
Or sharing any new news she’d heard that day.
And he was much the stoic partner,
Smoking his pipe, a comment or two slipping out.
But everyone knew, for certain,
That he was the master of that big ol’ house.
And that would be the bond they cherished
Until the day he died,
When all the many things he did
Echoed there in that long silence.
And though she spoke to a few others
Over the course of her last year,
She did pine away the days,
The weeks, the months,
Without his bended ear.
This had me smiling with my heart warming all the way through, Michael. A fabulous picture of 'til death us do part' and of the nature of the bond between 'opposites'. They sound a marvellous couple and wonderful family role model. It's true that to love is also to hurt - as your grandmother undoubtedly did in her final days without her soul' companion, but then, what a blessing to have had each other for as long as they did. This makes me think of the familial bedrock of 'true America'. Thank you - and also for your generous time and comments visiting my Den. Greatly appreciated always. Kate xx
To me, this is what it's all about. Finding the things that work well and living by them. I did not have the joy of grandparents, but I would like to think they would have been something like this.
Rx
Wonderful! In a single poem, you had described your grandparents and their personalities very well. I can identify. All four of my grandparents had different personalities.
My fraternal grandfather was quite stern and stoic. A hard-bitten farmer and former factory worker, farmhand, and chauffeur, with the help of one of his sons, who liked nothing better than to peel an apple and smoke his pipe. His bride of many children was a jovial woman of the kitchen and farmyard who never cut her hair and get tied up in a bun. Well read, generous and loving, she outlived him long.
My maternal grandmother was bossy and socially active. She loved to travel and we traveled together after I was paralyzed. Her husband was a Depression beaten dreamer whose dreams and mostly failed. He told wonderful stories of his log cabin upbringing and the many adventures chasing those dreams. She rode him till his death and died much later of cancer. Leaving many who loved her.
What a wonderful tribute to your grandparents!!! The dedication of love between your grandparents was obvious. Though some may not say that their marriage was as beautiful as flowers and the butterflies as some romance authors have stereotyped "good relationship"; but yet there are so many other elements of love that can bring two people together to form a very fulfilling life journey. Others may not know these very important elements which the two shared. When two people are dedicated to each other, there must be something good that they see in each other to hold them together.
Like an intimate patch of coupled daisies, or dandelions of fading color, their flowered essence evolved slowly, never to wilt, but to hold their nourishment of Being until the very end. For me, the final loss of petals and the ubiquitous fantasy of umbrellas rising to that somewhere I'm sure your grandparents had reservations to occupy, rendered for this reader a tranquil and fulfilled journey--one I can only hope I'm fortunate enough to enjoy as well. A richly, non sentimental dedication to love. Thank you for this.
This is my personal inspirational book of poetry. It contains many poems written for family, friends, and relevant life situations. Hopefully you will find some that will encourage and inpsire you in whatever arena you are found in your circle of l
Share
Print
Save
Follow
Rx
My fraternal grandfather was quite stern and stoic. A hard-bitten farmer and former factory worker, farmhand, and chauffeur, with the help of one of his sons, who liked nothing better than to peel an apple and smoke his pipe. His bride of many children was a jovial woman of the kitchen and farmyard who never cut her hair and get tied up in a bun. Well read, generous and loving, she outlived him long.
My maternal grandmother was bossy and socially active. She loved to travel and we traveled together after I was paralyzed. Her husband was a Depression beaten dreamer whose dreams and mostly failed. He told wonderful stories of his log cabin upbringing and the many adventures chasing those dreams. She rode him till his death and died much later of cancer. Leaving many who loved her.
Ron
Sandie