flu shot poem #1
this is flu shot season my friend
annette writes she can’t take one
on account of raw egg allergy she
adds, “I’ll always remember my
grandmother’s recollections of the
1918 Spanish flu. So many people
died in Chicago that her parish
priest couldn’t keep up with the
funeral masses. Instead he stood
in the street with holy water and
sprinkled hearses as they passed
the church. She and my grandfather
avoided the flu, so she said, by taking
a shot of whiskey every night. She
drank her shot-a-day until she died.”
©2014 Jacqueline Jackson
This article appears in Oct 30 – Nov 5, 2014.
