As long as I can remember, my Pop has called me various terms of endearment. My very favorites were Sarah Beth Elizabeth and, of course, Shortcake. Nostalgia has a weird habit of cropping up at the strangest times. I was watching tv the other day - well, rather, I was working about the kitchen while the tv was on since I can not stand it when it's stark quiet.
Suddenly, I felt like I'd literally been whisked back to a memory of me sitting on that old oval braided rug in front of the tv, watching Batman or Alice in Wonderland or The Gods Must be Crazy II, eating pepperoni slices or pancakes or fish nuggets or oyster crackers slathered in butter. Something about a commercial that was playing, maybe the sound quality, maybe something someone said, I don't know, something that sounded like it was an older commercial from the late 80's/early 90's. . .whatever it was, it struck my heart and I felt like a little girl again, waiting for my Pop to call from the kitchen to me inquiring about what shape I would like my next pancake to be.
The following is a poem by my Pop, displayed exactly as it was written, before he passed. It is entitled "Shortcake Forever. I miss you Pop.
In some way, every day.
In some way, every day.
"The little girl who once sat on my knee
No words did she know but that didn't matter
No words did she know but that didn't matter
We would giggle and chatter and laugh with glee
Of things of nonsense that were not there
Or maybe a pooh bear sitting in the chair
The little girl who once sat on my knee
The little girl who once sat on my knee
Has learned to talk and would
confide in me
The things of importance to a girl of three
Diapers are gone now
"I go by myself"
Isn't that nice and isn't that great
Then you get up one morning and the little girl's eight
The little girl who once sat on my knee
Likes to tell me of the now important matters
Of liking kittys and puppys and going to the zoo
And oh of so many thing to do
The little girl who once sat on my knee
Gee
A teenager now
But she still confides in me
Of things at home or at school
The kids that are nice
the ones that are cruel
What makes her happy
and makes her mad
Some would pull at my heart strings
and make me sad
But she stayed on top and always
took pride of the person
she was inside
The little girl who once sat on my knee
Of things of nonsense that were not there
Or maybe a pooh bear sitting in the chair
The little girl who once sat on my knee
The little girl who once sat on my knee
Has learned to talk and would
confide in me
The things of importance to a girl of three
Diapers are gone now
"I go by myself"
Isn't that nice and isn't that great
Then you get up one morning and the little girl's eight
The little girl who once sat on my knee
Likes to tell me of the now important matters
Of liking kittys and puppys and going to the zoo
And oh of so many thing to do
The little girl who once sat on my knee
Gee
A teenager now
But she still confides in me
Of things at home or at school
The kids that are nice
the ones that are cruel
What makes her happy
and makes her mad
Some would pull at my heart strings
and make me sad
But she stayed on top and always
took pride of the person
she was inside
The little girl who once sat on my knee
The little girl who once sat on my knee
The quiet times we shared
on that knee
I hope
Has helped to set her free
Of any fears or doubts
the things of life and world are about
The little girl who once sat on my knee
now says that she wants
to leave me
And that is as it should be
XOXOXOXOXPOPOPOPOPXOXOXOXO"
What a cherished poem! I would have loved to have met your dad who helped raised such an incredible daughter, he must have been a special person!
ReplyDeleteThanks Sue. He was my grandpa, though. He's been gone 8 years now. I miss him all the time. He was a very special person. :)
ReplyDeleteHe was my dad and, gee whiz Sal, what a land mine! First the picture and then....I miss him, too, so very much.
ReplyDeleteOh, yeah, I can post comments now. Watch out! heeheeheeheehee.......