My Grandfather, born in Quitman, MS

Please forgive me for writing again so soon! I just put the following poem on another blog, then decided that it belonged here as well. It is about my Grandfather, who was born in, and lived several years in, Quitman, Mississippi.

I had a wonderful opportunity to know Grandfather. I especially loved him, a tall, muscular man who was so gentle toward me. He strongly impressed me with his kindness and intelligence, even more so when I became a woman.

The following is titled "A Visit to Grandfather's Garage." It truly was Grandfather's garage, but Grandmother's touch could also be seen in it.

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A Visit to Grandfather's Garage

An ancient car with rounded fenders
sits undisturbed, immaculate,
surrounded by painted shelves.

Ancient tools in careful order,
Mason jars of prism colors,
each in their labeled place.

For us, on the workbench,
a box of fresh walnuts,
two others of apples and pears.

They blend their fragrances.
From the door,
Grandfather laughs.

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Grandfather had a voice that was absolutely arresting. As a child, often, I would hide inside their house, my ear pressed against the wall, listening, while he talked with some adult. I had no real reason to hide there, except for the fact that I wanted nothing to disturb the resonance of his voice -- not even my presence.

His voice was incredibly deep, and although he had lived in California for years, he retained his southern way of speaking slowly, each word spoken with deliberate accuracy. Each word sounded like it was spoken from inside a deep cavern. I have tried to tell my children what it sounded like, but it was far beyond description. The closest I came to describing it was to tell them to imagine the deepest human voice they had ever heard, then imagine what that voice would sound like, if they cupped their hands over their ears.

Grandfather was probably the most intelligent person I have ever known in all my life. He did not attend college, yet he knew more about the world, and about so many things -- more than I can ever imagine knowing. He had set himself to learn, and he was a voracious reader.

Grandfather was well over six feet tall, and Grandmother wasn't quite 5 feet tall. Grandfather seemed to be always smiling, and Grandmother was loving but very serious. Grandfather would lope when he walked alone, and he could be across his back yard before I could have hardly started. But when Grandfather walked with me, he never seemed to be waiting for me, yet he paced himself with my footsteps. Grandmother took quick, short steps that could keep pace effortlessly with my longer ones. What a pair they were!