-
Poor Little Thing
She came to the office today, and this has been my only arena of contact with her for the years that I’ve been aware of her life. Her daughter always brings her, and together they pass through the doors meek and bowed and deferential, wearing the mien of learned helplessness, carrying the rooted resignation of their bloodline but lacking the grit. They see me as an authority, me — and no matter how soft or unassuming or passive I present myself to them, I have never been able to convince them that I am from their world, not the world of my employers. She wears knit gloves and a wool…
-
Visit To The Grocery Store
And just like that, it happens. The grinding heat of recent weeks was with us up until Friday. That morning the air felt different, and by dusk, it was noticeably cooler and breezier. I took a little stroll before dark and had to don a light jacket. When I arose yesterday morning, the coolness had intensified a notch. I went out into the back yard and stood beneath the maple tree, looking up through the branches at the curling leaves, throwing a shade for at least a little while longer. On the trunk of the maple I noticed a daddy longlegs picking his way along the bark “Better find yourself…
-
For My Mother’s People
Sung in the haunting voice of the mountain people.
-
Important Things Come
The important things often come to us disguised. Don’t you think this is true? *** The other day, I talked with an elderly man who, unsolicited, told me, “I got the least education of any of my brothers. Went to work when I was ‘leven year old. Worked as a carpenter, buildin’ houses. I built the house I live in. Built houses for two of my brothers. Built one house before I retired that cost a half…uh…milyun….dollars. That was my last one. My brothers all had to ask me for help at least once. And I helped ’em. That’s what you do for fambly. I didn’t mind to help ’em…