When I was two years old, Mommy dropped me off in paradise. I lived there with Auntie Oh and My-Ben, my uncle and aunt, until I was ten. Paradise was a small farmhouse nestled snugly in the piney woods of East Texas. My-Ben and I were compatriots from the moment I laid eyes upon him. Mommy repossessed me from school at the age of ten and drove me straight to hell.

When my children were grown and my son became a father, we vowed to break the cycle of dysfunction. As I began my wellness journey, creativity that had remained long dormant began to emerge - first in the form of poetry.  It seemed fitting and proper to write the first one in honor of my dear, departed Uncle Ben. 

My-Ben was a farming man who raised melons and peas and corn. He arose with the dawn and peddled his wares with a whistle and honk of the horn.

A gentle giant in a pick-up truck, his generosity stretched for miles. He peddled his wares, whistling tunes in payment for handshakes and smiles.

My-Ben went only four years to school yet lived by a wonderful creed. Never to harm one living thing, not by word or by thought or by deed.

Laying there in a fine Sunday suit, amidst flowers touching the sky My-Ben went to his final sleep without a hug or kiss good-bye.

I saw a vision of an angel today and I admit angels in overalls are rare. Gentle Ben dropped in for a good-bye kiss in answer to my prayer.


© 1994 Nana's Things