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HER GRANDMOTHER,
Early Morning Refrain
Was
not handsome, or was she particularly wise,
No
one ever claimed that she was brilliant,
But
she painted well, an artist.
Today
her family treasures and enjoys,
Landscapes
and still lifes,
Wonderful
evidence of her output and gift.
She
applied the oils heavily, used both trowel and brush,
And
captured wood and river, and rural architecture
All
around her north New Jersey home;
She
also rendered, remarkably, the wonder,
The
special furl and spray of Atlantic waves
Which
lapped upon her state’s southern shore.
And
following the common adage,
Different
time and place, who knows the fame,
The
renown she might have attained?
She
dressed her grandchild, a girl, in pricey sets,
And
family and neighbors seem to appreciate it,
“Oh
isn’t Elsie wonderful!” They often said.
For
all intents and purposes,
The
infant miss was orphaned.
Her
Mother was sick,
And
was to spend a long-time in sanatorium,
Dad
was gone.
He
had run off and then started another family.
Two
other girls, her older sisters, likewise deserted,
They
stayed with paternal grandparents.
She,
the baby girl, was separated,
And
went to her mother’s mother and father.
Dad
wandered off, then started another family.
Jealousy
reigned; the new wife kept their father away,
He
never went to see their mother,
And
rarely visited the three girls he had left behind.
Grandma's
girl was tall with curly blonde hair,
And
cheek bones high enough to make for real beauty.
Possessing
natural, happy disposition,
Her
eyes beamed, and when all-dressed-up,
She
looked as though,
She
might catalog-model for children’s magazines.
2.
But
Elsie, she did have her ways.
(I
am told to put it nicely!)
She
paid no heed to the child's underwear,
Only
interested in outward appearance,
Think
on this a moment, for who could see it?
Though
it might be tattered and dirty,
And
Lord knows should have been replaced,
Especially
when one considers the small expense,
She
cared not the dollar amount of any outfit’s cost.
She
was a master seamstress,
Favoring
subtle, flower prints, nothing garish.
Grandmother
used her talent to dress the girl like a doll.
A
healthy woman, who loved her cats,
Fed
those both inside and outside the house,
And
took in every kind of stray, animal and human.
A
former dancer who partook of chorus,
Had
her training at LUNA PARK,
And,
all who knew her swear,
She
practiced kicks, over head, when
She
had already celebrated birthdays past seventy.
Did
she swap a place for her star on the walk,
Take
lead role in gilded cage instead?
No
way, she was tough and worked hard,
Created
a wonderful home and with natural talent,
She
cultivated a big garden, a green-thumb delight.
And
guess what? To top it off,
She
married well, a union man, a good provider,
A
leader, he was respected and adored by all.
Sure
he was a hard-nosed guy.
He
had his trouble with the Schuberts and the mob,
No
easy matter getting a salary for men,
Who
changed the bulbs on marquee boards,
Who
hauled wire, and painted the sets,
And
whose days involved many other chores,
Which
meant going up and down ladders.
Her
grandpa made sure there was a decent wage
For
the man whose job it was
To
clean and bag after circus elephants.
Over
the years, testimony holds,
--
Here we have no mean feat --
They
fostered twenty-five kids, adopted four,
And
then wound up having a girl of their own.
But
something went amiss;
Grandpa
went upstairs to bed,
Grandma
slathered in wintergreen and liniment
Slept
on living-room couch at night,
Hard
to believe,
How
long a time they spent their lives that way.
And
after her Mom was finally released from hospital,
Grandmother
balked when time came to return
The
girl to whom she had grown attached,
The
girl she helped to educate and rear.
She
pretended the child were her own.
She
used every kind of conceivable excuse;
Grandma
tied to keep the mother and daughter away.
It
was very late; sun had begun to signal new day.
Four
decades had passed,
Separating
the adult from events of her early tale,
I
heard the woman, the granddaughter said,
We
sat at the kitchen table, we had been up all night.
I
heard her wax on the refrain,
Though
she said it quiet and was ashamed,
“I
can not wish she were here.
“I
do not wish she were here today.'
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