GRACE WHERE THE HELL ARE MY GLASSES by Roy Richard

Never got to “KNOW” this man,

                Mother’s father.

One time coal miner, blaster,

                Turned auto assembly line worker.

 

Union militant, enforcer,

                Quick to violence,

Beer swelling, whiskey consuming,

                Hunter, angler.

 

He left the coal mines in Pennsylvania,

                An explosive expert,

A mine accident left him unable to work,

So he brought his family to Michigan for work.

               

Now this is the story I’ve been told,

                But I remember no disfigurement; old photos show no trace of pain,

So I ask myself “Why did he leave that land?”

Was there scandal or shame? Guess I’ll never know.

 

He died just after I turned five.

                And only two memories of him survive,

Buried in the recesses of my mind,

No hugs or love or soft spoken words, only these two.

 

I was sitting by his chair playing,

                He was seated, reclining.

Hams beer on the table,

                Newspaper in hand.

 

His glasses shoved up on his forehead.

                When suddenly the silence was broken,

“Grace where the hell are my glasses?”

                I ran crying to find my mother.

 

I was told that he died, had gone away.

                Of course I didn’t understand, only a child of five,

So I pulled a chair to the coffin, to look down on him,

                Only these two memories survive.

 

I have heard stories and tales,

                His favorite pointer was bred by a mutt,

The puppies were placed into a sack,

                Tossed into a rain barrel to drown.

 

When a dog would “no longer hunt”,

                He shot them dead in the woods,

What good is a dog that won’t hunt?

                Not worth the food to keep them alive.

 

Enforcing his caucus in the union.

                Strong arming a vote,

Breaking the legs of a vocal dissident,

                Support his cause or else.

 

A son injured in a sledding accident,

                Almost scalping himself,

Can’t waste the money on a doctor or medical care,

                Held him down and sowed it back in place,

               

A son who wouldn’t leave the other boys “alone” at night,

                He would tie his hands behind back and make him sleep like that

Missed my parents wedding because of work,

                Trying and (failing) to outdrink my Dad,

 

Like I said I never “KNEW” him,

                These are the tales I was told,

Funny though how no one spoke good things,

                Of their father, grandfather, brother.

 

Suddenly after all these years,

                He begins to haunt me,

I wish he would go away,

                He still scares me.

 

Roy Richard

September 2022

 

Copyright Roy Richard

Banned Books by Roy Richard

August 2022

I would like to begin with a quote by the award winning Sherman Alexie, a Native American novelist, short story writer, poet, screenwriter, and filmmaker:

 “I believe in any kid’s ability to read any book and form their own judgments. It’s the job of a parent to guide his/her child through the reading of every book imaginable. Censorship of any form punishes curiosity.”

When we first send our children off to school to begin that natural journey of learning, most of us feel a tug in our hearts that is a desire to protect them from all dangers. We worry about the chain of events that will bring them from the kindergarten class to the stage at graduation. Each year as they advance through the education system many of the fears are no longer thought of. They mature, grow, blossom if you will, into their identities. Learn lessons about not only higher learning but abut life. After all the goal, is it not, to see that nervous child boarding the bus, turn into an adult, ready to face the world?

What we learn through these experiences is that we cannot control every aspect of their lives. They are going to fall and skin their knees. Have their hearts broken by first loves. Feel left out by the group. Stay up too late. In other words they are going to live their life. And living that life means facing each day and coping with any issues that arise.

If we take away their ability to form their own judgments about what they encounter in life we leave them unprepared for survival in the world.

I am blessed in that I have three amazing and extraordinary granddaughters. The oldest, a partial product of Davison Schools recently left for college. When she was around eleven years old, she began to take part in adult conversations at the dinner table. She freely expressed her views and opinions on many of the topics that came up. Politics? She had a view! Various forms of government? She had an opinion! Music from my generation? She seemed to know it! Equality? Unions? Genders? She could, as time progressed speak on these all!

At first I thought it was cute and that obviously someone else was putting their beliefs on her. Amazingly though as I begin to take her statements seriously and listen to her voice, I came to realize that she was researching these topics and making her own decisions! You see her Father and Mother did not necessarily censor her curiosity. If a topic interested her, she had free rein to look at the facts, ALL the facts from every available angle. If the data she had gleaned needed clarifying, she had the support of her parents, her grandparents and her teachers to help find that clarity. From all this she would make an informed choice and only would then begin to share her opinions and beliefs.

When I heard of the recent decision of the Davison School Board to ban additional books, I spoke out on Social Media about how wrong it was.  Some of my friends sent me excerpts from the texts to try and persuade me into agreeing with this decisions and I must admit that at first I began to wonder if maybe the correct decision had been made. So I made the next logical decision and that was to obtain the books and read them myself.

To date I have read four of the titles and cannot for the life of me understand why they come under attack. Yes the one is very graphic and from it is the small samples that I was sent. But when you read it in its context it fits and adds to the literature.

Taking away from our children, our young adults an opportunity to find answers to their inquires is nothing but abominable. You are handicapping a generation of young minds; Minds that we hope will run this country one day. When a parent asks a board to do such a thing, they are all but admitting that they cannot parent their children and are looking for someone else to do it. In addition the greater injustice of these circumstances is that your actions are not only depriving one mind of answers but many minds.

In closing I would leave you with the words of the American writer Judy Blume “Having the freedom to read and the freedom to choose is one of the best gifts my parents ever gave me.”

Thank You

Roy Richard

Copyright Roy Richard

FAMILY by Roy Richard

 

In the greater scope of things, is your clan weird?

Mine won’t win any prizes, they’ve proven their true worth.

My dad was a “dirty old man”.

My mom a “gold digging hussy”.

Or so the respective “Families” said.

 

I have always felt disowned by my blood,

We were rarely included, given a thought

In celebrations and fun.

They all could not see the love, they had for each other,

Our “Family”.

 

Mother’s menfolk had to ‘work’ and so missed the wedding.

Dad’s family said they could still see his dead wife beside him.

Twenty-six years was too great a divide,

Their love didn’t meet the proper definition,

Of “Family”.

 

At Christmas Grandmother bought me pj’s while my cousins got trucks.

One exceptional year nothing under the tree for me,

“Oh, I left it upstairs, I’ll get it in a moment”, she muttered.

I could hear her wrapping something and I was presented with mis-fitting pj’s.

Some “Family”

 

The Uncles took the boys fishing and hunting,

To learn life skills that would make them men.

I wasn’t included, wonder what they were thinking?

But I learned a life skill,

How to hate “Family”.

 

Older cousins left me on the bench at little league.

Psst, dad forced them to put me on the team,

Then they lied why I didn’t play

I learned isolation at an early age,

From “Family”.

 

Funny, they could ask my parents for loans.

Risking handouts wasn’t forbidden.

Deals on cars, loans for houses, a little pocket money,

Dad never complained, just did what was right,

For “Family”

 

Only mother could care for grandmother when she took ill,

After all she had the ‘room’ and the ‘time’.

Never complaining after working forty hours and then cleaning up shit.

Sitting near the hospital bed, knitting mittens and waiting.

For “Family”.

 

Their marriage was not perfect,

Yes they quarreled and fought,

No more than others I’m sure.

But the love they shared inspired,

Our little “Family”

 

I’ve now built my own little brood,

Successful and strong,

Based on the example of their love.

I’m sure mom and dad would be proud.

If they could see, my “Family”

 

Roy Richard (Coot)

July 2022

 

Copyright Roy Richard

YOU WENT AWAY by Roy Richard

 

 

Nan Marie Edmonds-Richard (1933-1978)

You went away,

Leaving me alone.

Exposing a hole,

I could not fill.

 

I felt the vast emptiness,

A chasm I could not cross.

Days filled with helplessness,

And long nights of restlessness.

 

On a cold snowy January night,

I lay in the snow, full of hurt and broken might.

Wishing for an end to this madness,

Or for your loving, comforting embrace.

 

Days later,

A sudden passing thought,

A random memory,

Triggered in my consciousness.

 

Only then I realized with startled wonder,

You had not left!

Your body is no longer present in my world,

But your spirit dwells beside me never less.

 

 

Embarrassed I shook my head.

The blessings,

The Love,

The experience!

 

You are still here,

Though in a different form.

Living in a new realm,

That’s inside my heart and head.

 

I love you mom

 

Coot (Roy Richard)

June 2020

For my Mother.

 

Copyright Roy Richard

You Are One Of My Greatest Creations by Roy Richard

You are one of my greatest creations

My longing is to declare that

But that wouldn’t be correct

It just isn’t true

For everything you have come to be is a consequence of you

 

You are the Master Craftsman and Inventor of your life

You have chosen from the ingredients presented

Using no blueprint

Following no recipe

Fabricated them into this amazing being

 

My hope is that

My influence

My Love

My example

Were worthy of that choice

 

I know that you will continue in this path

Becoming even greater

Making a difference

Influencing others

Standing strong

 

My pride bubbles over

My tears flow freely

Now go conquer

Face the world

Taking my love along the way

Roy Richard (Coot)

June 2022

Written for my granddaughter's (Caitlin) High School graduation

Copyright Roy Richard

Called.....

Called.....

My dad always had a dream for me. That dream was that I would become a preacher. I do not ever remember not telling people when asked in my younger years what I was gonna be when I grew up that I was going to preach. But then I became a teen and for some reason that vocation just didn’t feel right any more. Maybe it wasn’t cool? Maybe it wasn’t the thing for me? People stopped asking and I stopped replying. I ended up working for General Motors and after years of running from God I finally did begin to preach the word.

Now everyone in the small church I grew up in from the Deacons to the Janitor knew of my aspirations. And every time we got a new Pastor, or an Evangelist would visit, Dad would pull the ole’ “Hey tell the Reverend what you’re gonna be!” trick.

I mention all this because one night when I could not sleep it dawned on me, if all those people knew about this, why didn’t anyone help me to pursue the goal? I mean was there something about me that they just didn’t take me serious? Where would I be in life now if I had stayed the course, went to Bible College and never looked back?

I look at Samuel’s calling and his relationship with Eli (I Samuel Chapters 1-3) and wonder what if one of those old time preachers would have clapped me on the shoulder, took an interest in me and steered me toward the pulpit. What if I hadn’t let the world distract me?

I have always made of point of never second guessing anyone else’s calling, no matter what it might be. Preacher? Music Minister? Missionary? Sunday School Teacher? Bus Driver? Whatever! God uses people in amazing and remarkable ways and it is NOT my place to question or distract, but IT is my place to offer and provide support.

I am not trying to blame anyone for choices made by me. I have lived my live of my own freewill and tried to serve God to the best of my abilities. And so I alone am responsible for my actions. But still there is that small voice that wonders, “What if…”