1991
Well, he was
tall
and he was strong
and he had a big mouth
and a great big
laugh
and more opinions
than there are florets on
bluebonnets
in an April Texas field.
He took care of his Ma until
she was near
ninety-eight, and she was a character, too.
You betcha.
Didn't want the house cleaned
wanted to Talk. "Set down here,
honey,
and talk to me."
And she'd tell tales, about
dancing
and brawling
and politicians, and parties
you never heard the like
of.
She saved rags and boxes, plastics
and hose, silk and nylon,
and furniture
right up to the ceiling and clothes.
He brought home
jewels and artifacts:
precious things from China --
Tang and
Sung and Ching-pai --
and from Japan -- Kaikimon,
and an
angelfood cake now and then.
He'd brought her back home from the
ice-cold,
mildew-damp Northwest to die
thirty-five years ago in the
hot sun,
under the skies of blue. But she lived
on and on and on.
He said, to spite
him, but it was to make us all
laugh and love
life. Who
wouldn't want to visit that crazy old
woman full of more
glee
than a monkey tree?
Same with old Cleve -- has guts that
man
or God -- going here, going there,
telling you what to
think,
and how to think it. Finding treasures,
convincing you or
me or anyone
else they were treasures.
The Great God Leshikar
is good for a laugh or two
one of those great tall Texas tale
tellers.
And now he's off back to Seattle, and
the gloom and the
damp, Mama-free.
The blue bonnets will miss his
opinions,
books will miss his capturing,
bits of furniture will miss
his
long enduring, great admiration for Texas pine.
And Texas itself
will miss him sorely,
even though he didn't keep the banks
open
nor the skyscrapers from going bust in Austin.
Well, Lockhart
held his heart,
and he's often held my hand:
telling me
friendship will out last
love, and he's right, you know.
My loves
dropped dead and my friends
go on and on and on and on,
like
those bluebonnet opinions
and that wide, quick smile
and the
raucous chuckle,
under his straw hat
telling you the gossip of
the Bloomsbury Group,
and asking:
"Do you understand what I mean,
honey?"
Jan Haag may be reached via e-mail: jhaag@u.washington.edu