My Reflections:

Later in the day, I receive an email from a cousin, one of Papa’s nephews, to pass along to Papa.  And I’m reminded of Papa’s many readings from that same James Whitcomb Riley poetry book my cousin speaks of in his email.  And I too can still hear the spot-on inflection in Papa’s voice as he read those memorable and entertaining stories.  Glad to know others have such fond memories of the same.

Nana reads the email to Papa after I’ve left for the day.

 

Email: (from Papa’s nephew)

Hi Uncle,

I wish you a speedy and full recovery; my wife and I are thinking about you and Nana. I mentioned to [our daughter] that my uncle was in the hospital, and she asked if she’d met you. I told her yes, but it’s been a couple years. I reminded her that you and Nana stopped here for the night to refresh the horses on one of your whirlwind summer cross-country drives, and we enjoyed seeing you and catching up, if only briefly, during that visit.  [My daughter] requested, “Tell me more about him.” So I told her stories about you from long ago, and I thought I’d send you my version of these memories from my childhood…

 I remember you as a storyteller, gathering us kids, perhaps around Christmastime somewhere in the mid-1970s, cousins squirming around a stone hearth, probably before or after a holiday dinner, perhaps while the ham or turkey and stuffing and green bean casserole and pies are finishing in the kitchen. Present: grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles, lots of cousins. Maybe some kids are sitting on some adults’ laps. (These attendance details are all fuzzy.) Perhaps we enacted this scene on several occasions, at each annual holiday gathering of family; so my single memory may be an amalgam of a few different years’ gatherings. I don’t know.

 So we kids are gathered at the stone hearth. And you take a thick book from a shelf: _The Collected Poems of James Whitcomb Riley_ or a very similar title. Somehow you get us excited, interested in hearing a poem or two before dinner. I don’t recall how. But I recall all of us kids–all of us under 10 years old–intently listening as you begin your rendition of Riley’s “Little Orphant Annie” or “Raggedy Man.” Here’s the first stanza from the former:

 Little Orphant Annie’s come to our house to stay,

An’ wash the cups an’ saucers up, an’ brush the crumbs away,

An’ shoo the chickens off the porch, an’ dust the hearth, an’ sweep,

An’ make the fire, an’ bake the bread, an’ earn her board-an’-keep;

An’ all us other children, when the supper-things is done,

We set around the kitchen fire an’ has the mostest fun

A-list’nin’ to the witch-tales ‘at Annie tells about,

An’ the Gobble-uns ‘at gits you

Ef you

Don’t

Watch

Out!

 (excerpted from _Complete Works_, Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1916. Available online at _Poetry Archive_.)

 James Whitcomb Riley’s dialect poems are best when read aloud, like most poetry, and they’re rich with all kinds of sound devices students are made to study in their English classes. And in your delivery, Uncle, you hit the proper notes, with strategic pauses and inflections and crescendos to maximize dramatic effects in this poem about goblins sucking me through the floor or snatching me through the ceiling if I didn’t behave, if I sassed my parents, if I disrespected adults, etc. I can’t say that I was better behaved or less sassy because of the inherent threats in this poem. Doubtful. But I remember your performance of this poem–riveting, engaging, scary-but-not-really. Uncle scaring us with poetry.

 I’ve read this poem to [my daughter] and failed to achieve the same titillated reaction from her. She probably yawned (tough crowd). Maybe if I loaded the room with more cousins, a larger audience, some green bean casserole. So there’s one Uncle story.

 Do you recall this story in the same way that I remember it? Can you fact-check my memories, fill in blanks, or add a level of detail?

 I hold these memories very fondly when I think about you.  Again I hope that you recover soon.

Love,

Your Nephew

 

Email: (response from Nana to Papa’s nephew)

Thank you for that encouraging note. Papa enjoyed reading it and nodded that he does remember it but he is not able to respond at this time. Reading it wore him out (he was tired anyway from eating dinner). He will no doubt want to respond when he feels better. He is weak and discouraged. Hopefully the encouragement from his doctor has inspired him. We are praying he will want to get better and work to do so.

Love, Your Aunt