Two parents who love
Energetic, eccentric and exceptional: Mama and Daddy with their first grandchild, 1977
“If you have two parents who love you? You have won life’s Lotto.” — Augusten Burroughs
As promised (or perhaps I should say threatened) I am posting something entirely new, though its theme has been found at this site again and again. I am approaching the seventh anniversary of my Mama’s death, so I decided to indulge myself by posting a poem I wrote as a sort of tribute to my parents. During Hilary Term of 2021, in my second online poetry workshop I took at Oxford during the Covid shutdown, our first assignment was to write a poem about food. Not being much of a cook, I decided to think of my mother, who was a skilled and highly praised cook despite having almost none of the gadgets and appliances today’s chefs enjoy.
The delightful thing about writing poetry is that it often takes one in an unexpected direction. That’s what happened here. But I was happy to capture a bit of my Mama’s forward thinking about organic food, cooking, gardening and nutrition, and also my Daddy’s skill as an archer.
Pioneers
Coffee grounds, banana peels and eggshells
were never thrown away in our fine home
but saved in a large saucepan on the counter.
Across the back lawn past the swimming pool
our Mama’s compost heap had to be fed
according to her strict organic rule.
What others discard was reborn for us
in produce gathered fresh, served hours later,
bread baked from grain unrefined as Mama’s blunt ways.
Daddy harvested venison with his primitive bow
and none of this was stylish in those days. Friends laughed
and so did we, but savored pride that did not show.
Thus were we fed, and thus we grew
strong as oxen, rich as any king.
Fourscore and seven years they lived
and cooked this way until our Daddy died.
And we, despite ourselves, craved humble food
baked skillet cornbread, gathered greens, and cried.
- Posted in: Uncategorized
- Tagged: blessings, everyday life, families, food, gratitude, home, inheritance, legacy, love, memories, organic gardening, parents, relationships, venison
Defeat Despair 
Your poem is wonderful! It evoked feelings of being a child but also of an adult reflecting back. I felt a sense of maybe the child not quite understanding her mother’s ways at first, though a clear sense of pride develops and then a clear sense of loss.
I found the last line of your poem hit suddenly (maybe sense the line was short), which really made the emotion of it strong.
I really enjoyed reading your new post. 🙂
Thank you so much! Yes, you nailed it about Mama. She was the more “difficult” parent — all four of us adored our Daddy, but Mama was the tough one, and it took years for me to see her clearly, for better or worse (mostly better). I know it’s stylish to tell stories of how our parents messed us over (in cases of true abuse, this might be justified) but I have always felt love and gratitude for my Mama and Daddy, who did amazing things with circumstances that were often quite difficult.
Thanks too for your encouragement about the new post. Maybe I’ll try to come up with another one? 🙂
Julia, the makings of a great childhood, two loving parents. Sadly, today, that doesn’t seem to be the norm. I like your poem; hope you made an A+ with it!
Who’s child is this one?
Thanks Chris. That’s my older brother’s son. As my first nephew, he has always been very special to me, and he’s still a bright light in my life!
This is such beautiful tribute to Mom and Dad. Thank you !
You’re welcome, Carla. I’m so glad you were there with me through it all! ❤ ❤ ❤ And especially that you still are there for me!
That’s beautiful you grew to see your Mother more clearly. ❤️ I look forward to your next post!
Thank you! ❤