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Growing up with an angel that loved me.
Hovering close,with cane, walking.
Me, on a tricycle to the candy store,
Bright summer days I cannot ignore.

Though decades have past, his love and 
quiet spirit remain.
It's not like he's gone at all, but is returning 
on the very next train.

Grandfather was a tailor by trade, then
later owned a huge building in Bucktown in
Chicago, Illinois.
Where we all lived and worked, and celebrated 
with thunderous joy.

At Saint Mary's Church, he went up and
down the aisles, collecting contributions.
Some of us remember the days when
church was not a joke, but a valued institution.

Grandfather's hands..so oft I think of his tailor's 
hands,most velvety.
No pompous degreed person was he,
Nor did he preen nor flaunt any intellectuality.

I miss those early years when being loving
counted most.
I miss real men like him, who are genuine and 
not looking to be number one and boast.

Even though he could not walk very  well,
He danced at Communions, weddings
with all my friends, a tale I love to tell.

He dressed in a suit everyday, no
shorts, no jeans, it's hard to understand.
How did looking your worst become the pride 
today in most lands.

His son, my Dad, dressed just like him.
With their matching hats, the Borsalino
twins!

Finally, we spent hours together, listening to 
political chats.
I just wanted to be with Grandfather and
his happy heart, and that was perfectly just
that.

Far too young to understand the President, yet so 
overjoyed.....just being there.
To be with him, his spirit light as a feather, with
nary a scowl nor a care.

Peter had four children that he lost.
Some in the flu epidemic, yet he never was
melancholic  or moaned over the cost! 

He never complained as older folks do,
Of every ache and pain, so popular today, 
I do heartily eschew.

Grandfather had a huge player piano
And rolls of music so lovely.
We sat and pressed the pedals,you see?
Grandfather was my honeybee!


That sunny day we buried him, placing Grandfather
Peter in the ground.
I looked up at the blue sky as my tears fell like
a gentle waterfall~ little pools of a grandaughter's
tears all around.

                                ~~~~


                    Tribute to My Grandfather Peter:

Who loved God, humanity and this country. 
He came here on a ship and did own candy stores, 
besides tailoring. His values were the greatest
inheritance of all! 

                              June 10, 2020
                              1:00am PST
                              Poem # 1.231
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