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lovepoem #10
in 1903 when my
mother was eight she and her chums formed a music club they eschewed mozart beethoven bach in naming chose the buster brown and tige club after their favorite comic strip their motto was semper fidelis furnished by an older sibling studying latin they felt the need of a solemn pledge wrote one out all signed C McAulliffe Pres H Duck F McAullife V A Wardner M McAuliffe N McAllister Elizabeth Roemer they
placed their
hands on the bible spoke
the oath in unison “I promise for one
year to refrain from intoxicating drinks” you doubt this my mother Vera was secretary and I have the original if youwish proof maybe I should laminate it frame it
one could do
worse with pledges
© Jacqueline Jackson 2008
All families have stories. As in the game of
telephone, these get altered from mouth to ear from mouth to ear, and not
only across generations; a single shared event will be recalled differently
by each participating sibling. At family get-togethers this results in
“No, you’ve got it all wrong — it was this way” and
“I never said that — I’d never say that.” For this reason, we tend to look at someone’s
memoirs with suspicion. Our local Lincoln author William Maxwell says in
his book Ancestors that when he hears conflicting stories he believes them both. I’m apt
to choose the more interesting unless it plays too much havoc with the
facts. The important thing is to grab the memories, the likely and
unlikely, and get them recorded, as Rodd Whelpley — a local poet,
author of Capital Murder (2003), and editor of Illinois Parks
& Recreation — is here reminding
himself to do.
Excerpted from Things to Ask Aunt Nikki Next Visit
Item 6. Pets: A) The monkey story,
as it’s
come to the youngest Whelpley boys is:
Uncle Dave got it –––
was it called
BoBo? —– from someone on
his Free Press route who hated
how it shit in the house. Tale goes that
it
didn’t last long. Played on the phone wires
after a
storm. Burned its hands.
Fell to its death.
B)
More evidence for Jackson,
the citified donkey, my brother
Randy’s alleged transport
to
and from school in the fifties (a photo –––
somewhere ––– of them at the old elementary yard). J
got in
grandma’s house. Scared Aunt Rikki. Ate
from the ashtrays.
Same animal I saw
on a farm
outside town
when I was five? (Would have been 1970.)
Randy said so. But
our family fibs.
Really, somebody
needs to write this down.
Jacqueline Jackson, books and poetry editor of Illinois Times, is a professor emerita of English at
the University of Illinois at Springfield. People’s Poetry accepts
poems on any subject, but ones that deal with issues of local interest are
encouraged. Send yours to Jacqueline Jackson c/o Illinois Times, P.O. Box 5256,
Springfield, IL 62705, or to editor@illinoistimes.com with
“People’s Poetry” in the subject line.
This article appears in Feb 7-13, 2008.
