TILLIE

The youngest and last of her clan
(there were eleven)
she lived alone in the place
that once housed them all.
She invented a word for the herd
of nieces and nephews who'd
mostly moved away -- niblings --
and dead-panned it at you
to see if you had a sense of humor.
Thirty years after she bought it
new she was still driving
her bright blue Fairlane that
had once made everybody talk.
She wore her religion lightly
like a spring jacket
but on one of my visits said
that when she died she wanted
her favorite niece to sing
You Can Have the Whole World
But Give Me Jesus.
I said if I was still around
I'd see to it.

I was.

I did.

SKEPTIC

Brothers and sisters, the preacher
warned us, God is not mocked.

I was nine and impressionable.

He told a story, true he said, about
a car full of laughing young people.
It came screeching up to the stop
sign where an old man stood waiting
to cross the street. He said to
the driver where are you going
in such a hurry? The driver tossed
an empty beer bottle at the man and
said we're going to hell, wanna
come along? A mile down the road
the car crashed into a bank, three
of them were killed. O brothers,
O sisters, what you sow you shall
surely reap. The wages of sin is
death as it says in the holy book.

I was nine and impressionable.

But I wondered if he hadn't made the whole thing up.

HOW THE OTHER HALF LIVED

Our guide ended the tour
by taking us down to the cellar
of the mansion and told us the last
people who owned the house
before it was donated to the historical
society turned the space into
a rathskellar. They’d invite
their wealthy friends to come
down for drinks but this
was during Prohibition
so they’d hop on
their pontoon plane and fly from
their dock on the river all
the way to Cuba and back
with enough booze for the party.

I can see them sitting there
around the table, faces flushed,
cigarette smoke hovering.
I can hear the men’s
low voices punctuated by a woman’s
too bright laughter and just
for one night I want to be there,
be one of that half.

BANEFUL BLESSING

On Saturdays in summer
my father worked at the feed
mill till twelve. At the noon
meal (we called it dinner)
he would sometimes graft
onto his usual table grace
a phrase I learned to dread,
a red flag warning that
the rest of my day would
not be spent playing baseball.

I believed then and believe
still he was addressing
me more than God or at
least it was fifty-fifty:

" . . . and Lord we thank Thee
for the privilege of working."

HARBINGER

Pennsylvania, early April.

Her father goes out every morning

to the edge of the woods
and when she asks him why
he shrugs almost imperceptibly
and asks if she'll pour him
another cup of coffee.

As a kindness she reminds

him there are only four
more times for the chemo.
He nods and looks out the kitchen
window and she knows he's
going out there again before it's
time to leave. She's pretty sure
what he looks for is the first
signs of the trillium.

SADIE

She's dying now.
I remember her when
she was younger

and brought her three
kids to church. They
were more than a

handful, especially the
youngest who once crawled
over the back of the pew

and landed kerthunk
at the feet of Martha
Baer who screamed in

the middle of the Lord's
Prayer so we never got
past lead us not into

temptation. Harvey Kuhn lifted
up the fallen child and
handed him to his mother

and whispered loud enough
so we all heard it: I think
this belongs to you.

No one ever heard her
complain about her husband
who everybody knew was as

useless as an appendix.
She carried on. Her
kids grew up and left.

They'll be back for the funeral.

ELDERHOOD

They’ve brought in the old dog
from his doghouse in the backyard
on the edge of the woods.

Now he lies on a rug
on the front porch and when
I walk past he dutifully

pulls himself to his feet
and tries his best to
bark. It comes out in hoarse

croaks, like coughs. He
looks away, as if embarrassed
by his poor showing. Sometimes

I want to call out words of
commendation, praise him for his
vigilance. I want to tell him

it’s all right, he doesn’t need
to worry, doesn’t need to give
the warning, he’s earned

the right to rest, to doze
all afternoon in the sunlight.
I don’t. He wouldn’t understand.