I wanted to put a photograph of my father's parents up yesterday in honor of memorial. That'd be the grandparents I refer to as B and Big Dad.

However due to yesterday being crazy busy and my inability to find the photo I was looking for during my window of opportunity, it didn't happen. :(


What I wanted to post was this gorgeous double exposure of my grandfather, in uniform, walking down the sidewalk, away from his house to go report in, and my grandmother above him looking out the window as he's leaving.

It's just an amazing photo.

And it makes me think about both of them, because it's not just Big Dad who gave up a lot for the war. B had to stay home, works as a single mom and never know if her husband was going to come back. That's got to take a huge amount of strength and courage too.

So I thought I'd remember her and Big Dad on memorial day, since the families of enlisted men and woman are sacrificing too.



Happily for me, Pepere and Memere (mom's parents) don't need a memorial yet.
I hope they are around for many more years.

I couldn't help but notice people declaring it was National Poetry Month.

I don't write verse myself, but all my life, my father has.
He writes them for his own fun, for friends, for special events (wrote one for me wedding, two actually), and sometimes for no reason at all. He writes on everything he can find; in fact, he writes so rarely on actual paper that one Christmas we gave him a package of napkins and called it a journal (these are the kinds of Christmas gifts my family gives each other).

So, anyway, knowing it was poetry month, and knowing dad writes poetry, I asked if he had one I could but up on my livejournal. I figured he'd say no. He can be very private and has absolutely no use for internet blogs of any kind, or sharing with people he does not know well.

But, to my Surprise, he said, "Yes", he had one he wouldn't not mind me putting online.

So, I present to you, the rarest of the rare, poetry written by father appearing online.

---

The Curse of the Silver Ring
- By Ani's Father


Seven hundred leagues from home or five miles out makes no matter
If stars are crossed against your sails you’re bound to meet with disaster
It’ll swallow you whole or blast away ‘til you’re nothing but keel and spar.
And there’s no point in complaining, lads, that’s just the way things are.
You can rant, you can pray, but at the end of the day, that’s just the way things are.

I knew a proper sailor once who never quit on his mates.
He’d carry a fight to its bitter end no matter how dire the straits.
And if he gave you his word or his hand no more solemn pledge could be known.
But, because he was a man of his word his days here on earth are done.
Yes, because he was an honorable man his sailing days are done.

The cargo hold was filled with gold, a prize of the Spanish Main.
If all went well they’d fill their sail and soon be in England again.
But some crewmen’s oath or captain’s boast dredged up the wrath of the gods.
Then above the din you could hear "Heave to, men! We’re battling mighty long odds!!"
Then above the noise you could hear "That’s it, boys! We’ll beat these mighty long odds!"

Some drowned, some strangled in the lines, some were crushed by the rush of the sea.
So one by one their lives were done until there lived only three.
The one gave the others a silver ring saying, "Make sure this gets to my wife.."
So having said and having done, the one passed from all toil and strife.
So having placed the ring in good hands, his work was done in this life.

Next morning fair the storm-tossed pair set foot on familiar shore.
And when they could, each knew he would do the deed he was living for.
The first would seek out the widow, to return the symbol so pure,
But the second schemed to fulfill his dream and take what was left to her.

He swore falsely to the lady who had lost her lover at sea,
Saying, "He who sleeps here, see there-in his grasp! He holds what belongs to thee!
To possess it he slew your lover true , the one you were waiting for."
So hearing these lies, to no one’s surprise, she couldn’t stand anything more.


She slit the throat of the sleeping man who had brought her the precious thing,
For she hated his life while her husband had none, and what good to her was a ring?
The liar retrieved the blood spattered band from the dusty road where it shone.
So if someday you see this man or this ring, keep your distance and leave them alone.

---

Good Luck For All of you in 2009!


Is everyone eating their black eyed peas for good luck?

Eating Black Eyed Peas on New Years Day is a good luck tradition especially prevalent in the American South. I've grown up with it and still observe it ^__^


However, not living with mom anymore, means I make my own (or eat them from a can which is not the same!)

I took water, some vegetable soup stock, random spices (bay leaves thank god for bay laves), a whole turkey leg, and some Black Eyed peas and without the use of a cookbook made something edible.

YAY ME.

^__^
My black eyed peas are no where near as good as my moms, but they should work in a pinch.

Now to see if I can make cornbread before I need to leave for Brandon's.

You know, playing Captain America made me realize something.
After six years, I still mess the hell out of my grandfather, Big Dad.

I was reading The whole Death of Captain America mess and started crying. I felt like a moron because I have no great connection to Captain America, but then I realized I was crying for Big Dad (he was a marine in WWII if you need an association explanation).

It's funny how missing someone like that can sneak up on you when you least expect it and all of a sudden you are crying of friggen comic books for a character you never read before except when he beat the crud outta the New Mutants for no understandable reason -_-.


*sigh*I actually still do cry a bit on Veterns day because we always went to see Big Dad then. Once, when I was little, I gave him one of my dolls once as a Vetern's day present *L*

While I'm being nostaligc, here are some pictures (I know I think I posted these a few years ago, but I'm at work and I want photos with this entry!):


I know I posted this before, but I just think this whole story of a PoW who was so appreciative to my Grandfather searching for him for the next 20 or so years after WWII until he found Big Dad again is amazing.


And here is me and Big Dad, when I was very very wee.
he built this whole backyard up. You can't see it, but he built an addition to his house to be my Dad's room, as well as an additional building to be a library, and when my Grandmather lost her ability to walk, he installed a an elevator system next to the porch stairs so her wheelchair could go up and down with no issues 0.o


So yeah, I still sometimes mess my grandfather so much it hurts :(

Ahh anyway random depressing post.
Sorry