Welcome, welcome!

This month’s prompt asked about what old, worn out thing can we not part with… I have thought long and hard about this post… and I am twisting it about a bit. Rather than worn out, I have found the well-worn… as in well-worn memories. (and it is especially relevant this month!)

Most exhibits in the Museum of Me all exist in the deep pools of my memories… well-worn and much loved memories, but not memories that I reminisce over regularly. But then something triggers those memories and they float to the top of the pool when they shimmer on the surface, lingering in the most wonderful way.

This month is one of those Memory Triggers for me…always in April my thoughts turn to my maternal grandfather… who loved poetry. He did not just love poetry, he memorized poetry and recited it often. He loved to talk about poetry, he loved you to ask questions about the poems he read and recited.

When I was a little girl, I can remember him reverently reciting Joyce Kilmer’s Trees and wondering if he was praying. My grandpa especially loved two poets… yes, Joyce Kilmer but also Carl Sandburg. He read other poets, but he memorized the poems of Kilmer and Sandburg.

My grandpa frequently quoted Sandburg poems, Fog and When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d. I did not realize until I looked up Lilacs how long it was and I am not sure if my grandpa knew the whole thing, but I remember hearing many of the verses.

Like Kilmer, my grandpa was a man of profound faith and later in life when MS ravaged his body, his recall of Kilmer’s Prayer of a Soldier in France had new meaning for him. I remember many discussions with him about how MS might defeat his body, but it would not defeat his attitude… and it would never take his faith.

Now my days start with poetry… and I can hear my grandpa asking “what took you so long?” Reading poetry is something that I have come to love and it is something that connects me to my memories of him… and occasionally, those memories rise to the surface and I feel that connection even more.


My grandpa… in the back… the only one looking at the camera!

Thank you for stopping and reliving some of the memories of my grandfather with me!

See you all back here on Monday!

Pin It on Pinterest