The Little Poet
. . . I remember so many years ago, a little boy just 2½ ,on a warm summer day, In the little town of Marshfield, Wisconsin, 111 Elm Street, My parents were discussing that their age, that they were just 2 years apart, my favorite spot to think then, just out the back, the sun casting a shadow across the side walk, & I remember my little thoughts, that one day, I may just marry a girl, that hasn't even been born yet.
. . . I remember the swing set , to the right, just past the sidewalk end, & the butternut trees, which the squirrels always planted some, in our garden, & when we got hungry from playing, we went to the garden, & picked carrots & kohlrabi, (a lot like a turnip.)
. . . The corn was always planted, on the side where our Polish neighbor lived, the reason, he always wanted to give advice, on how to plant our garden.
. . . Their kids had hair cuts, the girls, a large bowl, & the hair was cut around, & the hair trimed just above the eyes & the boys, a small bowl, & theirs done just the same.
. . . They seemed to be a people from a strange land, very persistant in their ways, so we never really did get to know them, even though they were my own age.
. . . We had a neighbor, who was known by the kids as Old Lady Heart-attack, she hated kids, & did not want any of us around, when we played ball, if it went into her yard, she would keep it, & not let us have it back. Everytime, we had to talk to her, she always mentioned that she just had a heart attack.
. . . And because of her meaness, in the winter, we would get up early in the morning, My two sisters & oldest brother, Little brother was just too small & we would leave footprints in the fresh covered snow, all over her yard, just because we knew that she didn't like it.
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. . My Neighbor, Johnny Ravers, & his Sister Cindy, were my best friends just across the street from her, I discovered that I was so much bigger than Johnny, so I had to learn to be careful, for the little things I did, would hurt him, for I was bigger & stronger, & I didn't know my own strength.
. . . I also had a good friend, Sheila Fetherwitz, just across the street from us.
. . . She was playing in the dirt one day, & we shared some cheese crackers. When we were just two, She Offered, I looked at her hands, and I looked at her, & felt if it didn't hurt her, then maybe it would be ok if I take a bite too.
. . . We always played & visited with next Door Pete, his house was no more than a good quality hut, but he was our friend, & we liked him, I don't ever remember, needing to open a door to come in.
. . . I went to Kindergarden, In Marshfield, too, My teacher was Miss Greenfield. And I proudfully walked to school every day. One day in the winter I learned a lesson though, I saw an ice puddle, & as any kid would do, I jumped on it, & then it broke, it was only two blocks back home, & an inconvenience to come back, but it was too cold to go to school that way.
. . . As time passed, I was then ready for first grade, it was just a little farther, & I proudfully walked there too.
. . . I remember the pretty little girl, Anne, she could spell her name incursive, she had a pretty little smile & my heart fluttered, just to see her lovely face next to me.
. . . Two months from the end of first grade, we moved to Florida, & I left my first grade class, for the last time, with my simple words of loss,,,Bye Class, & I waved goodbye .
. . . So this is the beginning world, of the fellow that wrote these stories, at the age of 48.
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