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It's hard to believe it has been nine years
since my brother delivered each box.
They all seemed to hold a special key,
mysteries and memories to unlock.
 
My Dad had lived a mostly happy life,
and I remember him with love.
He's hunting, fishing, and playing sports somewhere
if there's a heaven up above.

Twas the first time I'd seen Dad's picture
as a kid (just another sprout).
He looked like I imagined Tom Sawyer,
in a photo with some trout.
 
A real-life time machine made of letters
from his buddies in the armed forces,
at the end of the second world war,
for civilian life they held their horses.
 
The biggest box held another box within.
It must have been the one Dad received,
as an only child, thirty years before,
when of his mother, he too was bereaved. 

In it was a goose-down hunting jacket,
packed in plastic with a card.
From Dad to Grandpa, it said,
"from your son and hunting pard".

I suppose it's neither here nor there,
but if you will allow,
It's a strange feeling to write of them,
while I'm wearing that jacket right now.
  
My grandma, the nicest lady I ever knew,
had problems I've not depicted
This poor, beautiful, generous, lady,
with schizophrenia she was inflicted. 

She would not go back to the hospital,
or listen to Grandpa, so,
persuaded by innocent, ignorant Dad,
to electroshock therapy, she did go. 
 
They didn't talk much to me about it.
I was only just a kid,
but, knowing what I know now,
I can only imagine the damage it did.

Inside the box within a box, guess what?
There was still another box inside.
This was one my grandma received
when her dear mother, Laura, died.
  
Laura died at nineteen-fifty-five,
Three years before I was born.
Yet, I felt I got to know her,
from photos and letters, time worn.

At twenty, she married a rich man in Ithaca
near the college of Cornell.
Five months later a child was born,
and the husband said farewell.

It seems Laura was a commoner,
so, the marriage was annulled,
and the rich man avoided disinheritance,
leaving Laura and her child alone.

At age twenty-seven, Laura, married
a working-class carriage man.
They raised a big happy family
and they had six more children.

Of these, my grandma was the first
born to that wild and cheerful clan,
It's my belief that is where
my dad's happy nature began.

He grew up next door to Grandma Laura.
With teenage uncles and aunts,
he was spoiled and indulged
with freedom, and always one more chance.
 
My own childhood was not so happy.
I felt I must have been some creep,
the way my mom, and brothers treated me.
I was branded a black sheep.

My dad was mostly away from home
on hunting trips or work,
but, when home, he was always cheerful,
and never spoke to me like a jerk.

He used to like to whistle
as he worked around the house.
I would follow him happily,
quietly, like a mouse.

He seemed to like my company, and he liked to laugh,
thinking life was funny.
I'm thankful for the box of memories
and the man who was so sunny.
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