Dear Blind Grandpa
My dearest grandfather, great-grandfather
We kids have always called you Blind Grandpa
This note to you today will be for me
No one left to ask the things I don't know
My memory has you in the kitchen
sitting at your old pump organ, playing
Playing beautiful music that wafted
through the house for all to enjoy or not
I don't remember your playing with me,
Ever. Just of you sitting there playing
Not one song of yours do I remember
I only know what happened when you died
Uncle Howard got your organ, oh good
My aunt could play it now. Didn't happen
Uncle Howard cut it up, all apart
We kids played with the knobs and the pieces
Who was your wife, I have long forgotten
I don't remember ever seeing her
My sister knows, she has it all charted
We cousins numbered nine, not all you knew
Your children have died, their children as well
Now our generation's starting to die
Every boy of your family turned blind
Passed down to all the men, my turn is next
I have been wondering more, who you were
No one is left to tell, no pictures hereIn my mind is you at your pump organ
Playing, that's all. And pretty organ knobs
_ _ _
Lower Photo and Poem Copyright
© 2015 Jimmiehov
All Rights Reserved
- The upper photo is from Wikipedia, of a 1882 Beatty Parlor Organ selling for $50. [ http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pump_organ#/media/File:Beatty%27s_Parlor_Organ_ad_1882.jpg ] Blind Grandpa would have been an adult by then, he died in the 1930's. More likely he bought a used organ.
- Today I am linked with Mama Zen
, both for Day 10 of National Poem Writing Month- Her instructions are: "Think about your ancestors. Think about your future descendants. Write a letter to either or both. Word count is wide open." (She usually limits us to 55 words.)
Such wonderful memories of the organ, Jim...great write!
ReplyDeleteA very beautiful tribute to your dear grandpa :)
ReplyDeleteLove the sentiments that you have portrayed in this piece :D
Really like this piece, and it's sad that the organ was ripped up, the thing you remember most about him.
ReplyDeleteThis made me sad, Jim. Fine write.
ReplyDeleteAn organ for fifty dollars - which must have been like five hundred is to us, back then. Horrifying that your uncle cut it to pieces. And that every boy went blind. My grandma and my mom both lost most of their sight towards the end. My turn next, too. Already have cataracts. This was a poignant read, Jim and I really enjoyed it. I do love the old stories. Those were the days!
ReplyDeleteBoy, I hope not all of this is true--it is a very lovely poem, but I have lots of eye problems so really sympathize. Thanks. k.
ReplyDeleteSo sad that something once so treasured became nothing but bits and pieces. Thanks for sharing your story with us.
ReplyDeleteOh, the outlines of life~ The music, the memories-I do hope you are okay and not losing your sight~ His memory is a gift and I hope you can find out more!
ReplyDeletehe cut it up, huh? every family has its bumps ~
ReplyDeleteAt least one memory remains clear, and the dear blind grandpa has not been entirely forgotten.
ReplyDeleteA wonderful poem, and family story. I do hope you are not really fated to go blind!
ReplyDelete(◕‿◕｡) the absolute child persona in which you recalled and retold,
ReplyDeletemy favourite lines "In my mind is you at your pump organ
Playing, that's all. And pretty organ knobs"
thanks for dropping by to read mine
much love...
I love the opening with blind grandpa at the pipe organ. It's so sad when we lose the stories of our family hisotry. My dad was a wonderful storyteller, and I'm trying to pass all his stories along to my kids. It's difficult though, as I'm the only living child, so no siblings to remind me of what I forget. And, I too wish you the best with your eyesight.
ReplyDelete