great grandpoppa was an army sergeant

during the war to end all wars,

though i don't think he ever went overseas.

i think he was a quartermaster.

my grandfather, pop, was in the navy, for ww dos,

fending off the bad guys while

staying as drunk as humanly possible

in the heat of the pacific theater.

great grandmother, alice, amah,

taught wounded and shell shocked soldiers

how to knit, as they convalesced, and do leather work

and other crafts to occupy their weary minds.

grandmother, my gram, was a flirty college girl,

yet to fall in love with the skinny ensign

with a proclivity for drunkenness and a propensity

for sussing out a sharp deal.

none of them thought much of memorial day.

it was traditionally the day the pool opened,

and an excuse for a picnic with friends.

we, the kids and grandkids, didn't think

much of it either, we swam and ate

and chased each other around, oblivious

to the intent of the holiday, happily so.

we were bad at remembering on command.

~

gram had a sweetheart at the time, buddy,

that was shot down,

killed somewhere over some ocean.

i don't know what she thought.

if she thought about him

on memorial day, she didn't show it

and i don't think she did.

she was a practical woman, not sentimental,

with a real, live husband

and four kids to keep an eye on.

besides, says butch, her best and dearest friend

and confidant, she didn't love buddy

it was all about the sex.

maybe she thought about that on memorial day.

~

pop skipped the festivities

and played golf.

he'd come home in the evening, the fireflies

rising around the paper plates

of chips and hot dogs,

he would pour himself a glass of dewar's

or j & b and talk with poppa

about business or golf, or i don't know what.

i'd bet anything he wasn't 

thinking about barking orders

or the heat of battle, maybe he was,

maybe that's why he drank,

but i don't think so. i think he drank

because that's what men did. 

~

alice, amah, loved a guy named mortie

but got knocked up

by a guy named dan, who was poppa

and thus begat gram, my gram.

there was little love between them,

amah and poppa, they led parallel lives,

she with her causes and he with the horses

and bridge. love was what wasn't,

not what was, but they had a happy home

with three rambunctious kids, to varying degrees,

gram was willing, but her body failed her,

she was the ugly duckling. she limped along.

none of this has much to do with memorial day.

maybe it does. apparently it does. 

~

afterthought

great grandpoppa fought the dirty krauts,

at least from a distance.

grandpop fought the dirty japs

from close proximity.

poppa and pop were the good guys

on the right side.

all's well, and history sleeps well.

grandpop's great grandfather

was a rebel 

in ole jeff davis' quest

for southern sovereignty.

it didn't end well for the boys in gray.

pop carried some bitterness.

he was on the wrong side of right, and lost.