Michigan

Big D we always called him, the D was for Dwight.
He was my great grandfather, 6 foot 3 in height,
stood tall and proud, surveying the lake,
two hours from Chicago to Michigan on highway 8.
Him and Gommie, they loved their little cottage,
used to raise flag every morning to pay homage.
Every summer all the grandchildren would come to see them,
they told us magical stories that carried deep meaning.
My family was in a hurry, in a flurry to feel the sun,
their house was by the beach they could watch the children run.
We cut up watermelons and ate sandwiches at 2:00,
me and my cousin Bianca would ride our bikes, hers was blue.
At night all the parents would gather in the gazebo,
cutting up onions and peppers to mix in the burritos.
Later in the night we would walk to The Well,
an ice-cream shop run by Swedes: blond and swell.
And times always come, the rains fell hard,
the pitter-patter drops on the waves under the stars.
It's beautiful really, to see the lightning strike
while running down the sandy dunes faster than the light.
We burn fireworks with Scott, throw the frisbee with Steve,
travel down a creek on a skinboard on our knees.
The crickets and the reeds, humidity and the trees,
Nana and Grandpa under the shade trying to read.
It all goes back to Dwight, my great grandfather past
who helped build the business that lets this family last.
We flourish and for this, I'll always say thanks
and though you passed away, we will forever be mates.

One of my favorite things was going to the bakery.
Buying cardamom coffee cake- such a memorable pastry.
We sat around bright fires in a black sky,
Big D talked about going to war when he was 25.
Shucking corn and picking berries, an experience kinda simple,
returning to our roots, the center of a ripple,
the center of what is human, what brings us all together,
pitching in, telling stories, adjusting to the weather.
Passing down values from generation to next,
teaching to sail a Hobie Cat jibbing to the west.
Learning what is right, trying what is wrong,
checking out the Bethany beach girls laying on the lawn.
And man it's so good, thinking about it now,
those times were the best, we oughta be proud.
I was young, but, sensitive to the rhythm.
I remember thinking then- this is the way to be living.
Take care of your family, celebrate your life,
let the wind take you, cut the strings to your kite.