Charles Kruger

I am from Grandma Bert who sang and danced in Vaudeville.

One night she warbled "When We Are M-A-Double-R-I-E-D

H-A-Double-P-Y we’ll be" and burst out crying to my grandfather

Because they weren’t yet. And Grandpa Sam who (after his stint in Vaudeville)

Ran a numbers racket when he learned that a short Jewish lawyer (who sang and danced)

Couldn’t make much of a career even though he was Class President

And always voted Republican.

I emerged from the ocean at Craigville Beach in Hyannisport where

Great Grandma Lina brought peaches and plums to eat by the water.

I learned from Aunt Karyl who dyed her hair scandalously blonde

Laughed too loud, drank too much, and raised seven happy children

Before dying young and tired of pancreatic cancer.

I grew from Aura the schoolteacher, four feet ten inches tall.

Who once took a knife from a six foot student.

I was planted in the Mississippi mud,1967, with Fannie Lou Hamer,

"Ain’t Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me Around", and "We Shall Overcome."

I am from alcoholic Grandpa Phlip whom I never met.

And also the purple scent of lilacs and the yellow buzzing of bees.

I am from Nanny Annie who came to America speaking only Polish and Yiddish

But became a high school English teacher in less than two years.

I am from Aunt Helen who had her nose bobbed and never told her children about it

And Helen’s daughter Susan who split into pieces, then came together again

Making two children before her final suicide attempt.

And Uncle Henry who taught me to do card tricks.

And I am from Pete who came to my door the night of his senior prom

To show off his powder blue tuxedo and took me on long humid summer drives

In his parents Lincoln Continental.

i sprouted singing from the community theater where I once played

The Mayor of the Munchkins in the Wizard of Oz.

My queer accent is a fine new note in the family symphony.