Thank you so much, John. It means a lot to me that the story resonated.
I wrote it as a participant in a poetry class, (Never underestimate the value of a writing workshop/session.) The challenge was to write about a parental figure in your life that is not your parent.
So very moving Geoffrey, you, your dad, doctor Christ and the starlings. To receive the last embrace of a person, and that he gave you such warmth and strength with his near last words. The power of hearts.
Beautiful Geoff. I don't know if I ever knew this about you, this link also with you and (Grandpa) Fred. Thank you for showing a connection between loss and joy, moments connected by sharp emotion.
Oh my goodness, what a plateful for your mom. Beautifully conveyed, my friend. It occurs to me that though it was not a good thing that you and your dad both got polio that as a child it may have felt even worse to have it all alone. Weird thought but childhood is so awash in confusion or at least innocent ignorance. Your piece is threaded through with grace.
Thank you so much, Cinse. It was indeed a plateful for my mom, particularly when he came home, after nine months in the hospital, and she had to first do his PT and then had to drive him to his house calls and help him up any stairs.
I'm not sure how my Dad felt about my polio; only an occasional conversation about it and, when I was young, mostly discussion about what I had to do to minimize its impact on my life.
Interestingly, my two older brothers did not know I had polio until recently. My Mom and Dad kept it from them -- and kept it from anyone else for that matter -- I think because there was, until the vaccine, such a stigma attached to the disease. And after a while, I guess, there was no point. They wanted me just to go about my life, to work hard and not let it get in the way.
It hasn't. By the time I was 25 all evidence of it was pretty much gone. While I would NEVER equate my life to Wilma Rudolph's she had polio as a child, wore leg braces but worked hard enough to win the Gold Medal in the Olympic sprints. She was an idol, a model that my parents, quietly, reminded me of.
Amazing that your brothers didn't know for so long- and that I am just finding out about this dear Geoff! So beautifully and descriptively written. Thanks!
Well written story. The details make such a difference. I read it three times as it's still not clear to me if you also had polio or were crawling to mimic your dad.
I love it!
thanks Luz
Very poignant Geoffrey, such a bittersweet moment of joy and heartache. Thank you for sharing, it will stay with me. John
Thank you so much, John. It means a lot to me that the story resonated.
I wrote it as a participant in a poetry class, (Never underestimate the value of a writing workshop/session.) The challenge was to write about a parental figure in your life that is not your parent.
Thanks again.
So very moving Geoffrey, you, your dad, doctor Christ and the starlings. To receive the last embrace of a person, and that he gave you such warmth and strength with his near last words. The power of hearts.
I think we are gifted experiences as a child that shape us throughout our lives. I am fortunate to have had many and this moment I will never forget.
Thanks so much for sharing your reactions -- and for reading and restacking the story.
Best to you.
gg
The missing opening in the emails changes the context, but not the meaning at all. And now I understand your love for skating
Thanks so much, Stephanie.
Best to you.
gg
Wow
Beautiful Geoff. I don't know if I ever knew this about you, this link also with you and (Grandpa) Fred. Thank you for showing a connection between loss and joy, moments connected by sharp emotion.
Thanks so much Sara. Yes a link to both Freds.
I really appreciate your taking the time to read and comment. My best to you. Hope you're staying warm down there.
What a beautifully written--and moving--story, Geoffrey.
thank you so much, Clarice. I so appreciate that you not only read it (listened to it?) but also commented.
Be well.
gg
Oh my goodness, what a plateful for your mom. Beautifully conveyed, my friend. It occurs to me that though it was not a good thing that you and your dad both got polio that as a child it may have felt even worse to have it all alone. Weird thought but childhood is so awash in confusion or at least innocent ignorance. Your piece is threaded through with grace.
Thank you so much, Cinse. It was indeed a plateful for my mom, particularly when he came home, after nine months in the hospital, and she had to first do his PT and then had to drive him to his house calls and help him up any stairs.
I'm not sure how my Dad felt about my polio; only an occasional conversation about it and, when I was young, mostly discussion about what I had to do to minimize its impact on my life.
Interestingly, my two older brothers did not know I had polio until recently. My Mom and Dad kept it from them -- and kept it from anyone else for that matter -- I think because there was, until the vaccine, such a stigma attached to the disease. And after a while, I guess, there was no point. They wanted me just to go about my life, to work hard and not let it get in the way.
It hasn't. By the time I was 25 all evidence of it was pretty much gone. While I would NEVER equate my life to Wilma Rudolph's she had polio as a child, wore leg braces but worked hard enough to win the Gold Medal in the Olympic sprints. She was an idol, a model that my parents, quietly, reminded me of.
Amazing that your brothers didn't know for so long- and that I am just finding out about this dear Geoff! So beautifully and descriptively written. Thanks!
Well written story. The details make such a difference. I read it three times as it's still not clear to me if you also had polio or were crawling to mimic your dad.
interesting. never thought of the mimic angle. i don’t say it directly, but I’d argue that it was pretty clear that I had polio.
but also, are you reading the email version? the first graf was dropped.