MYTHIC GRANDMOTHERS

Their stories were told around dinner tables,

Under trees in backyards as busy hands

Shucked corn or shelled butter beans.

Anecdotes grew into short narratives

And into life lines drawn across generations,

Myths carried by word of mouth

As if sung in epic poems.

One birthed twelve children with nine surviving;

All nine said she always smiled.

A hand-colored photo was taken by a photographer,

Traveling from house to house.

She sat on a bench in a purple dress with a lace collar;

her husband stood behind her. 

She looked at the photographer. 

Her husband looked at her. 

It hung over a fireplace

Long after their fiftieth wedding anniversary.

One was photographed for her wedding.

She and her husband stared at the photographer.

Her high-necked lace gown was kept in a closet. 

A large hand-colored portrait of her was taken in a studio.

She sat on a high-backed chair

In a dark green dress holding a red rose.

One nursed her children through diphtheria.

One starved and gave what food she had to her son.

One had a house full of laughter and hand-me-downs,

Depression era rations, home-made fudge,

And macaroni with cheese and tomatoes.

One traveled on a boat across the Atlantic with her only child.

Pneumonia and starvation were their companions.

Her husband--killed in the first world war. 

One made baby beds out of empty cigar boxes

Lined with white lace and pink flannel,

For little girls who called her Nannie.

One didn’t know she would have grandchildren.

One died at 83.

One died at 34 bringing her son to Ellis Island;

Some said she was buried at sea;

Some said she was buried on land.

One rests forever beside her husband.

One was lost and found

Almost a century later. 

State of New York

Department of Health of the City of New York

Bureau of Records

Standard Certificate of Death.

The name of the cemetery listed.

©cmheuer, 2018