Grandfather is about my paternal step-grandfather, who was my best friend when I was young. Reunion was inspired by a huge January snowstorm a few years ago, and a girl I had a crush on in high school. Bunky Hipple (that was really his name) was sort of a legend in my hometown,  and I decided to add to that legend.

Grandfather

My mother crumbled
under the weight
of his grumbling words,
But I remember
sharing his silence
when Mozart played.

Townsfolk were annoyed
at his careless wanderings on private roads,
But I remember
discovering new places
on a Sunday drive.

I remember his violin,
his musical hands,
and dancing together to Peter And The Wolf
in his enormous living room,
Hot chocolate on Saturday mornings
at Woodburn’s Restaurant,
and driving around all day
making up silly songs.

Children —
when I lead you astray on country roads,
Grandfather is to blame.
When I hide in my room with Beethoven,
Grandfather is to blame.
When we dance together to Peter And The Wolf
in the living room,
Grandfather dances with us.

Reunion

It used to snow
when we were kids,
all day, waist deep, pure white.

It would start with a few flakes
here and there
and grow into a windy swirl.

When I saw you
for the first time in forty years,
I remembered the snow,
You waiting at the top of the hill,
my eyes fixed on yours
as I pulled the sled behind me.

Bunky Hipple

Bunky Hipple could hit that ball, I loved to watch him play.
I saw him lose one out in the road 600 feet away.
They say that he stood six feet eight and weighed 300 pounds,
And when he stepped up to the plate, he’d stare that pitcher down.

Bunky Hipple could run and slide as well as any man.
He could swing from either side and throw with either hand.
He could go back on a ball and catch it on the run.
Bunky Hipple could do it all better than anyone.

The Yankees signed him up one day when he was still a kid.
We knew that he’d go all the way, and he almost did.

Bunky Hipple packed his bags and headed somewhere south.
He made the Carolina League, and then his luck ran out.
Bunky Hipple came back home one cold day in the rain.
Everyone was waiting there when he got off the train.

Bunky Hipple raised some cash and bought a grocery store.
We had a celebration when he opened up the doors.
He coached the Babe Ruth League a while when I was on the team.
But I had to move away when I was seventeen.

I hadn’t heard from him in years, I wondered how he’d been.
Last July I had the chance to go back there again.
I drove down to the Babe Ruth field as soon as I unpacked.
The kids were wearing uniforms, “Bunky’s Grocery” on the back.

I dropped by the store that day, but he was out of town.
I just said to say hello, I’ll catch him next time around.

Bunky Hipple could hit that ball, I loved to watch him play.
I saw him lose one out in the road 600 feet away.