About This Poem
This poem is a Father’s Day tribute to a man I considered to be my grandfather, Curtis Walton, or Midge as he was known. My paternal grandfather died of stomach cancer in the early 1940’s when my dad was around three years old. After this, my great uncle Midge became a sort of mentor to my father and helped to give him much needed direction.
My uncle wore a newsboy cap whenever he stepped outside. During Prohibition, he ran moonshine. After that he made his living as a roofer until an unfortunate fall from a roof forced him into early retirement.
We spent nearly every Sunday with him when I was a child. Stepping into his house was like going back to the 1940’s. He preferred his old vacuum tube radio to television. His wife made some of the best fried chicken I’ve ever eaten in my life. He was a man who was rough around the edges but had a very good heart and definitely knew how to survive. I hope you enjoy this poem.
but it was honest,
full of the simplest
of pleasures,
like listening to the Red’s game
on the old Sylvania radio
with a cold Stroh’s
and plug of Redman
tucked in your cheek
the cadence of your speech
and your expression,
rough but meek,
the scent of wintergreen
chewing tobacco
and Old Spice
and how you joked
that the roaches
that scurried up
and down your walls
were like old friends
and how you’d be
lonely without them,
was filled with stories
and calm eyes
shined with content,
you always said
you would rather live
on skid row than
amongst the rich
because the poor
might steal your money
but the greedy,
they could steal your soul.
I am an American novelist, poet, traveler, and crypto-enthusiast. If you’ve enjoyed my work please sign up for my author newsletter at my website. Newsletter subscribers will receive exclusive updates and special offers and your information will never be sold or shared.
Eric Vance Walton - Media
