Mom sent me this poem this morning, saying that Guest was my Grandma Lachmayer's favorite poet. It reminded me so much of raucous Thanksgiving dinners around her dining room table, with the "Allied Union" collecting dishes of dressing and cranberries and such up at our end of the table and making the rest of the family ransom them and so many people crammed into her and Grandpa's little house that the rafters squeaked, that I had to share. Thanks mom, I love it.
***Someday I am planning to tell the story of that table and the many things that have happened on, under, around and to it over the years. From puppies chewing the feet to cousins getting their fannies fixed on top of it, it has quite a history....and it sits right over there in my dining room now waiting to host our Thanksgiving feast in a couple of weeks.
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The Rains Came — Tuesday, November 5, 2024
2 hours ago
3 comments:
Nice poem - look forward to the stories that go with it!
hey fred,
boy the memories!!!! I can rember sitting on the stairs being punished for doing something wrong.
Love ya matt
Hi Laura, I can't believe that I didn't even know that my grandmother had a favortie poet. We were quite close, but if she ever mentioned it I don't remember.
Hi Bro, love you too. Can't believe the house is gone and only exists in our memories any more. Still my memories of time spent there have the clean, spare, clarity of youth on them...I won't forget.
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