Who’s up? My grandfather was an eccentric. He was a poet, - TopicsExpress

Who’s up? My grandfather was an eccentric. He was a poet, a dream spinner, a bread winner for six children, and part of that great migration of Oakies who moved their families from Oklahoma to California to begin new lives, many winding up in the barrio in east L. A. where property was cheap and the Mexicans reminded him of the Cherokees he lived with on the reservation. They made good neighbors. On Saturday afternoons he often took me to Westlake Park, that melting pot of humanity where we would stroll along, stopping every now and then to listen to firebrand poets spout Ezra Pound and T.S. Elliot. Grandpa said if it was true that Pound was a Fascist, then he didn’t have any GD (goddamn) use for him. I didn’t know who Pound was or what a Fascist was either for that matter, only that particular subject made his blood pressure go up. He belonged to that generation who believed in the American dream, that if you worked hard, anything was possible. I thought he would live forever. © 2013 Jennifer Brookins

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