Friday, November 28, 2014

 

Haiku Friday: Grandfathers

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[Above is a painting my dad did of his own grandfather; it hangs in my dining room where I see it every day, to my great joy]

As I have noted before, my dad has been blogging over at the web site of the Dirty Dog Jazz cafe.  Recently, he wrote a wonderful post about his grandfather:

My grandfather was a tall big boned Wisconsin farm boy (think Gary Cooper) who went on to college and then worked at the Westinghouse Corporation as a civil engineer. He spent years bringing electricity to the southern tip of South America. He had a horse and a dog as company as he inspected the lines. He was a vigorous yet gentle man who had plenty to do until he retired at 65.  He and my grandmother started traveling to all the places they had dreamed of in a small trailer. They would park it on the vacant lot next to our house when they would come to visit us. Bompa was restless. On their travels he saw the effects of the depression. He knew that the severe economic cycles had been  destructive and needed to be leveled out. He threw himself at the problem, he stopped traveling, and he began studying economic theory nonstop. He thoughtfully came to conclusions,  wrote papers, he met with important people and he eventually was invited to speak at universities and with corporate and civic leaders. He changed the conversation with his ideas. He lectured on economics into his 90′s. He never stopped being a good friend and an inspiration to me.

Let's haiku about grandfathers today... it can be a biological grandfather, or one who just played the role regardless of family relationship.  I will go first:

Late in his lifetime
He built a computer, bam!
He knew the future.

Now it is your turn... just make it 5 syllables for the first line, 7 for the second, and 5 for the third, and have get in on the action!

Comments:
Dancing eyes, broad smile
A farm with horses and cows
Mem'ries of age five
 
Unprepossessing,
He, wiry, not tall, a pipe,
At the end of day.
 
He ran a race track
Raised a bunch of sons, all sons
And they had sons, too.
 
A rude wooden bowl
And one spoon fed 5 chicks..Pa
Hoarded money,they

Were left alone to
Fend.He learnt to sculpt trees
In Zurich. Gardener

He met his wife who
Was Cook.From Marseilles they sailed
To America.

Farmed a Tragic Land.
His mustache tickled my cheek.
He pulled my hair.

I would have loved to
Hear his stories.How he survived
When she shut out love.

 
Big and boistrous,he
Fed on kisses from bambini
Cherished bounteous bosom

Of his wife, moments alone
Under cherry flowered duvet
Where no child dared come.

They were thrown in air
Babies like kites and given coins.
Sweets.Freedom.Wisdom.
 
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