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Thursday, December 14, 2023

Poetry Friday - Those Years Gone By

            It's Poetry Friday, and Janice is hosting HERE on her blog, Salt City Verse! Thanks for hosting this holiday season, Janice!

          I hope all is well with each of you, especially with the news that lately has not been good. I remember Margaret Mead's quote: "Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has."  Keep going and doing!

My 'grown-up' tree!


        As we near Christmas, I turn to so many memories,  
 not especially about the holidays but about my family 
 and the stories from them. I am older now and try to  
 share some with my children and my grandchildren, 
 yet sometimes I feel those stories drifting away. If you 
 haven't lived them, it's more challenging to keep them. 
 Here's a piece I wrote with a haiku end; 
 perhaps it is a haibun?



Places of My Mind

 

           I hear the family’s tales and feel a pull to list them and write them down.  They are who I am, the child of my mother, my aunt, my uncle—stories, stories.  Down the streets we travel, relishing, embellishing.  Here is the old firehouse, where baby Linda, spoiled by the nanny, sounded the alarm, made firemen come—a story forever.

 

            Here is the corner, the Huff house.  I know it well yet have never entered.  It’s mother’s childhood story of loss in the Depression.  Two families split the house down the middle to save illusions, to eat more than potatoes, to avoid worse.

 

            Here is the grove on the farm—Pilot Grove—a guide to the place, announcing endings for some, beginnings for my family.  It became a town! My great, great grandfather moved here from Virginia, to prove the land, and perhaps himself.

 

            Over the hill is the farmyard, only known in spring because the daffodils still bloom.  It’s where Uncle Billy stepped on the nail.  Tetanus (lockjaw!) meant high fever, dark rooms, and children hidden away to mend or die.  He lived—lucky for me—to teach me how to fish.  There, the barn foundation.  Grandmother’s horse Lady took her oats there—Grandmother made the town talk, no sidesaddle for her! When Mother took her first ride, her only ride, the ‘falling’ ride, she rose with dangling arm. Parents were grim with worry over the pain and the expense.

 

            Now, back into town, see the front porch of the white house on Main Street.  At four: “Linda, Linda, don’t play with that jar.”  Broken, cut wrist, blood down the front of a newly ironed, starched, white pinafore.  But also see the maple tree in the back, now reaching old age—branches holding dreams of a young girl, wondering who she will become.

 

           It was a joyful ride to someone’s farm with my grandfather, year after year, driving his flatbed truck, others following, to find the town's perfect Christmas tree. One time it was my first time. I was finally old enough!

 

            I know many stories of this beginning place of my life, and I am the only one left to understand, to know which streets, and which houses hold them.  Who are-were-the Huff’s, the Brownfield’s, the Babbitt’s?  If I don’t list them, who?  If I don’t remember, where will the stories go?

 

remember

where daffodils grow –

there, stories stay

 

Linda Baie ©

29 comments:

  1. What a stunning prose and haiku piece. I feel the tug of recording memories too. You do this so very beautifully with the names of people that are like those daffodils...you only remember them when the memories bloom. A perfect piece of writing for the holidays. It's warm, cozy and a bit wistful for Christmas past. Those daffodils...so telling.

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    1. Thanks, Linda. It was fun to put the words down this week, maybe ready to do more? Have a great weekend "after" your Covid bout!

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  2. This is Patricia- such vivid images of a life, lives, a town. And that blood gripping on a pinafore! And so stark, the ending haiku - in its sweet brevity- with the power to say so much. Wow!

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  3. Linda, this is gorgeous! It has a Spoon River Anthology feel to it, traveling through time and memories and stories...truly, a gift. Thank you for sharing it. xo

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  4. Linda, stories from the past frame our existence. Memories slip in and out but yours are strong ones with sensitivity and warmth. They speak of family. It is a wise move to add them in writing for someday a child may open the story book (blog) and find a tale of a little girl's life and thoughts to ponder. Your post touched my heart with its beautiful storytelling.

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  5. Thank you Patricia, Irene, & Carol. Writing the stories brings more memories, will see what happens next!

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  6. The haiku ending is perfect, Linda. You've given me the inspiration to try something like this for my parents' hometown in Texas, a place I never lived but visited often.

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  7. Linda: This is exactly the conversation I keep having with my sister, and she keeps reminding me that my oldest living brother is the only one who can talk with her about certain locations. Oh... the memories! How we love to revisit them! Reminds me of Ted Kooser's poem "Mother." The irises. We could go on and on. Thank you! And have a wonderful wonderful Christmas.

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  8. Oh, so beautiful, Linda. Loved every single bit. Your descriptions are so vivid and heartfelt. The holidays/end-of-year are definitely a reflective time for many of us. So glad you shared these stories (hope we'll be treated to more!). I share the sense of urgency -- if you don't record them, who will? Your family is lucky for all you do to preserve this important legacy.

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  9. This is really touching, Linda, and I love your haiku ending

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    1. Meant to sign my name! Jane Healy

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  10. Now my new favorite from you! What a beautiful picture you pained - brought tears to these old eyes!

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  11. Ooh, that haiku is lovely. And this: "Two families split the house down the middle to save illusions." One of the high points of my Sep trip to visit family in Fla was a daylong "Memory Lane" outing with two of my sisters. Oh, the stories. Yes, they will be gone someday. But I think of those memories and stories like the ocean...constantly changing, but constantly absorbing, and then flinging both old and new together up on shore with the tides...

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  12. I appreciate all of the latest comments, know that many of you write lovely pieces of memories, too. Thanks!

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  13. Linda, what a rollercoaster of a family narrative! It is amazing how much generations have endured to allow us to arrive at our here and now. I love your daffodil stories!

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  14. Linda, I love this stroll down memory lane with you. Loved the pic of the maple tree and hearing your stories as you navigate these places in your mind.. Keep writing them, they will be a gift for your family.

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  15. If strictly not a haibun in its layout, it is a close relative, Linda. a nostalgic journey through a treasure trove of family related memories. A gift to future generations. A journey for the spirit.

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  16. Linda, this is just so beautiful! Thank you for sharing these vivid memories! Ruth, thereisnosuchthingasagodforsakentown.blogspot.com

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  17. Have you thought about writing a play, Linda? So much story, tension, drama that you could tap into with these true tales. Thanks for sharing...would love to hear more!

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  18. Thanks again, everyone. I spent a lovely few hours having dinner with my granddaughters yesterday, making new memories!

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  19. Wonderful memories, Linda. And I would love to hear more about any one of them. Thanks for sharing.

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  20. All of these marvelous details! And the haiku at the end? Perfection!

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  21. What a beautiful haibun, bringing those memories to life for us. Thank you.

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  22. Lovely Linda, so full of vision, movement, and history! I think this line leads into its own story, "branches holding dreams of a young girl, wondering who she will become. Like Tabatha I'd love to hear more. And the haiku at the end so full of life, thanks for sharing all!

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  23. Thanks much, Rose, Marcie, Sally, & Michelle. I so appreciate the comments!

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  24. I love this, Linda, and it is so relatable. I feel the same pull to somehow save and share my childhood memories. Your haiku is beautiful.

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  25. LInda, This is one of the most beautiful posts I've ever read. It is filled with love, longing and memories.Thank you for sharing it with us. It is a compelling piece that should make us all write memories of our childhood down.

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    1. Thanks, I hope that many are inspired to do just that!

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