It's taken me a lot of years to
reconcile this town.
Town where my brother
died.
Town where my
grandfather prospered.
Town where my father led
school change
(for the better).
Town not kind to my
father after awhile
(power play).
Town where my teen years
were
tumblesome, sadsome, and
funagoodbit.
Like everyone's.
Where little girls of the '30s ran through Raleigh Court,
giggling, and
my cool aunt Nancy took me in her
convertible to a movie starring
Elvis Presley.
Town where I started
writing,
stopped writing to love,
will now write (late)
for the remainder of my days.
Photo, today, at
intersection of Colonial Avenue, Roanoke,
at Towers Mall.
Just beyond the stop sign, what used to be a
Just beyond the stop sign, what used to be a
quick summer's walk to
Oakey Stump's sprawling brick home.
My great-grandmother.
Rail widow and native of Floyd County,
Rail widow and native of Floyd County,
reveling in the city
where she could take the bus to get nice
lingerie and raise
children to work and go
to war.
Many stories & poems
to come of grandfathers, fathers, brother, and
Oakey.
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