Pilgrim Path

This blog is the work of a seeker and poet. Walking stick in hand, I head out into the world, not of the world, but in the world. My words and my friends carry me along and light the pilgrim path of spiritual journeys.

Monday, September 18, 2006


Many years ago, as a child,
Uncle Don was sent to live on a farm.
Proper Scottish family secrets won’t let me
know the reason why.

Many years ago, as an adult,
Uncle Jim disappeared during the War.
He wasn’t killed, we know this
as someone found a matchbook
along the railroad tracks.
Inscribed inside the cover was a message
to Mary – his sister – my mother,
“I’m fine,” Love, Jim.

Don left Scotland for America,
married Christine, had 3 children
and ran the local Ma & Pa grocery.
I remember pictures of him
in his long white apron on the store porch steps.
A generous soul who handed out
Orange Crush sodas and chocolate donuts
to the neighborhood Katzenjammer kids.
Each December, he transformed himself
into the world’s best Santa.
We’d gather at the American Legion hall,
listening for the sleigh landing
on the roof, and then – those bells,
the ones that still give me goosebumps
knowing Santa (or Uncle Don) had arrived.

Uncle Jim set sail for Canada
we’d learn in later years.
Remarried, he returned
years after his sister had died.

Wanderlust is in my genes.
I suppose one day I'll up and leave
hoping to meet Don & Jim
out on the road where we’ll stop
at a local café and talk
about the seed we share.


Anonymous AMP said...

Is the seed your wanderlust?

7:14 PM  

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