WHAT I REMEMBER MOST ABOUT THE GREAT GILDERSLEEVE

What I remember most
about The Great Gildersleeve,
which came on at eight thirty
on Wednesday nights, was

how we would sit around
the radio in the living room.
It stood as tall as I was
and was the Bringer of afternoon

tales of romance and heartbreak
for my mother while she ironed
(her favorite was The Second Mrs. Burton)
and for me baseball, Tom Mix,

and The Lone Ranger.
But in the evenings all four
of us would gather for laughter,
my sister and I sprawled

on the floor, Dad on
one chair, Mother on the other,
crocheting yet another section
of the fancy tablecloth for

the dining room table.
Baby Snooks, Tuesday nights,
was my favorite. Dad loved
Gildy, the water commissioner

whose best intentions always
landed him in the kind
of trouble Dad found hilarious.
Maybe I remember those moments

because his face, so often
sad, was, for an hour
transformed into something
happy, into delight.

It told me that happiness
was . . . well . . . possible.