Long ago
In a world not far away
Our grandmothers
Made quilts, crocheted
Sewed their children's clothes
Cooked amazing meals
Born from the chickens
Whose necks they wrung
From the peas even little ones
Helped with shelling
Beans too of many kinds
Carrots and taters
From grandpas' gardens
Which was their before
And after work passion.
Flowers too they grew
Out of the love they shared
Out of the thanks
For the families
Who made life make sense.
Sundays were casseroles
And resh venison
Or chicken salad
And tater salad
After church on the grounds.
Volleyball, even croquet
But mostly touch football
And summer baseball
But hunting and fishing
Seasons brought food and joy
And taller tales
That even the dogs enjoyed.
Life was simpler then
We did not know a lot
About the world so far away
But once in a while
Our sons were called upon
To risk their lives
And often lose them
To protect the lives
We cherished in our nests.
To be sure we knew
Injustice
It was the way things were
And many feared change
That could burst our balloons
And challenge our faith
In Norman Rockwell's
Portraits of America.
Today we long for shelling peas
Eating watermelon and
Homemade ice cream
The product of salt, sweat, and ice
Churning the milk and cream
And the berries we added
And the pies and cakes
In those times when calories
Were burned in our labors.
We wonder how empty
Are the lives of those
Without community
Without a bond
With the land and their neighbors
Without extended families
Yet how can they live wisely
Without their history
Which they are told to trash
Bash and condemn
And they without a history
Have no reason to disagree.
Yet the hearth fires still burn
Here and there
And there remain families
Despite all the propaganda
That the family, the old ways
Are remnants of a failed
Civilization.
As Thanksgiving draws near
The destroyers rage
Finding fault in all our past
Yet no civilization can last
Once shelling peas
And all we once did together
Is done at factories
By those we do not know
And we each live apart
No longer needing each other
To thrive, let alone survive.
The isolated today chase about
Looking in vain
For they dare not,
No, they know not
How to break bread together
Or even that their lives
Could be intertwined
And thus enriched.
So how can we restore
A civilization lost
To isolation
And the fruitless
Pursuit of self.
It was Sartre who said
Helli s other people
But we say
That heaven itself
Is community
And only through
Sharing the gift of life
Can we find true joy.
