Monday, May 18, 2009

My gramps died the other day. He was a pretty tough dude, but then, who doesn't say that about their gramps. You spend an entire life building a family, how can the fruits of that labor not think their tree is the best their ever was? I love my gramps and think I'll miss him, once I hit the point where I realize I haven't seen him for awhile.
The question, I guess, is, what does a poet do in these situations? Well, for me, he gets asked to write the chincy poem inside the "remembrance folder." I've done it, and I think I like it (it covers the middle ground between what I do and what was expected...i.e. greeting card bullshit), but I'm going to sleep on it, do one more round of drafting tomorrow morning and hopefully send it off to be printed in the morning.
A part of me wishes I hadn't been asked to do be that voice, but I also realize that as a writer (a practice that is weird and abstract to most honest, hard-working people), there was really nothing else I could offer and nothing else they could have asked of me and, ultimately, I'm happy to do it. To have your family flipping through all the "verses," and coming to the conclusion that they have a son/nephew/grandson that could do better, is humbling and for a guy as popular as my grandpa, quite an honor.
Anyway, the point is, I'm really not into occasional poetry and the pressure of writing a poem that may be the only poem a person ever reads is daunting, but the reward (for both me and my family) will hopefully be worthwhile.

Check you later Gramps, I guess it's my turn to buy the Mountain Dew.

No comments: