Long years and many deaths and a clan flung far and wide
This family needs its history
And I'm the matriarch?
This mantle thrust upon me in my waning middle years
Be mentor, sage, historian, fount of wisdom
Keeper of the keys to an ancient treasure trove
Makes no concessions for aging brain and capricious memory
The stories of fathers and mothers
How will our children know?
Of how they struggled and suffered and sacrificed
And loved and laughed and lived?
Of oral history made rich with lively anecdotes
Of colorful personalities and their stories
Of valuable hard-learned lessons they impart
Now it falls on me
Will I be worthy of memory?
Learn more about this author, Peggy Strickland.
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by Ann Clemmons
Through My Grandmother's Eyes
Through my grandmother's eyes the stars were alive.
Trees had spirit, and families had ties
DANCING IN MAMA'S KITCHEN
(Mama was my grandmother who passed away in 1990.)
I danced in Mama's kitchen,
A red apron around
The Stranger I knew
The sun shined brightly in the sky,
as it entered my eyes expectedly.
The temperature revealed to be about
Long years and many deaths and a clan flung far and wide
This family needs its history
And I'm the matriarch?
This mantle
My Life is Like Sweet Potato Pie
Day before Thanksgiving
Grandma in the kitchen.
Standing over the stove, pies she is a fixin'.
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