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- [00:00]
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Foreign I'm Major Jackson and this is the Slowdown. A treasured photograph hangs on the wall in the TV room. My grandfather, Major Gooch, standing outdoors with members of his Army Troop, the 113th Quartermaster Regiment. They were an all black unit in the Second World War. Major stands on the top row, rigid in posture. The photo is sepia, toned and still in its original wooden frame. Yet I cannot tell the features of the day. Was the sun shining the sky gray? What did the photographer say to get seven rows of men to all look in the camera's direction? My other treasured photograph is of his wife, Lucille Gooch, my grandmother. The black and white picture shows her with white gloved hands clasped around her purse. She is smartly dressed in a skirt suit capped with a large woman's bow tie. A huge flower is affixed to her pillbox hat. A slightly parted smile adorns her face. Lucille's picture hangs in my home office along with a few of the many photos I have inherited. Some of my ancestors I can name, many I cannot. If you are a regular listener of the Slowdown, you know how much Major and Lucille impacted me in the early part of my life. I look at them increasingly as I get older and think of the trials they faced and the sacrifices made. I think of the era they were born, long before the civil rights movement and the social and political advances made in our society during their lifetime that are quickly deteriorating. I think of the principles that we shared as a nation which they embodied a full on belief in a country where all are valued and considered equal. Memories of them emerge out of an inchoate past. The advice they dispensed and the laughter they wrought make them feel as relevant today as when they were alive. The quintessential moments of my life with them from long ago feel dreamlike. I question the accuracy of my memories. Someday I will pass these pictures on to my children with hopes that they too affix to them whatever meanings their ancestors contributed to our country. I hope they name their deeds as admirable and worthy of note, even if the world forgets and refuses their light. Today's minimalist poem makes a poignant observation about the images of those who silently populate our homes, offices, museums and walls. Their presence is our eventual destination. Mantle By Kevin Young the dead do what they want, which is nothing. Sit there mantled or made real by photographs in silver frames, or less real by our many ministrations dusting bleach. The world swept, ordered, seemingly unending. The dead, listless, lazy, grow tired and turn off the tv. Or like a father passed out in an easy chair during the evening news, what's watched now does the watching. The Slowdown is a production of American Public Media in partnership with the Poetry Foundation. This project is also supported in part by the National Endowment for the Arts. On the web@arts.gov to get a poem delivered to you daily, go to slowdownshow.org and sign up for our newsletter. And find us on Instagram at Slowdown show and blue sky@slowdownshow.org.
- [05:14]
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This Old House has been America's most trusted source for all things DIY and home improvement for decades, and now we're on the radio and on demand. But this isn't just another home improvement show. It's all about craftsmanship, expertise, and the stories our homes tell. Subscribe to this Old House radio hour from LAS Studios and APM starting March 25th. Wherever you get your podcasts.