Ma'am

Child of the Great Depression,
Survivor of hard times and woe,
Look now the world, give us your suggestion

Times were tough; that’s true enough.
The farm made us quite lucky
Then again most everyone had land and knew its use.

Papa had a railroad job, section in Kentucky.
So cash wasn’t too big a deal, although,
Pennies often squealed.

Mama always said, ‘make do’, done it all my life,
But now days that philosophy aint held so very tight.
So first I’d say, hold your pay for another day, children.

Ma’am glanced at the concrete Icons growing in the flower garden
Good years and bad crossed her face then wistful eyes turned sad
Looking at me and continuing, she began again …your Dad ...

Worked hard all his life, not a bastard but abandoned just the same
Supported a mother and eight sisters with game and grain
Earned by the sweat of brain and back
Many a meal brought home in sack
Wrested From the green forested plenty of the land

Armed with an eighth grade education and a blue book in his hand
Your Father was the architect of all where you stand.

Your Gran Pa remarked when he met him,
‘Where’d you find that dirt poor sum’bitch?’
I said, Papa, you don’t know him; he’s actually dirt rich.

Smiling remembrance held shining in Ma’am’s face
Then confusion erased all expression of that grace
She turned once more, looking into my eyes
Was that what you were wanting? I’m afraid I’ve lost my place.

Yes Ma’am that will be fine; it’s not so very hard to read between the lines.
I’ll remind you of this later on; we’ll talk some other time.