Snapshots of Roy and Vivian (Maupin)Long

 My Long grandparents lived clear across Tower Grove Park—so close but not next door.

Always people, people, people—

Not just aunts, uncles, cousins but “family” from 

De Soto, Festus, Crystal City—

Some for the day, some for the week—sleeping on a couch, in the spare room.

Anybody who was distantly related and needed a room. . .

Grandma always had a place for them.

I didn’t like sharing my grandparents with country kin.

Grandpa smoking cigarettes, ashes hangin on,  while sitting in a family-crowded front room

Ashtray on a heavy iron stand, amber glass bowl held by a metal alligator or dragon

Filled with  the butts

Perpetually blowing smoke. 

Me, sitting on sofa  embossed with nubby silky leaves- fingers tracing the design

Soft on top, scratchy below.  

Trying to listen, trying to behave “like a lady”

Wanting them to go home.

Always too many people talking, laughing all at once—

Willingly sharing these grandparents with cousins Steve and Bob.

Our favorite activity was CHASE!

Sliding off the sofa, the chase is ON!

Running round and round: hallway with skylight , butler’s pantry, kitchen, dining room and back to hallway.

“Stop running, someone is going to get hurt”

Sliding under the table, hiding from cousins

Being the smallest, I fit under the table shielded by the table cloth.

The boys try to follow me. .. . 

Bang! Taller, they slam into the table—knots, scrapes, bruises—tears.

It’s not a family party unless someone gets hurt.

Playing Uncle Ron’s old-fashioned board games 

Washing and drying dishes with Grandma and aunts

Listening to them laugh and talk.

St. Margaret’s of Scotland across the street chiming in.

Laughter and talking stop—chimes dominate

Can’t compete.

I just join in with the tune and count the hour strikes.

Life on pause until the final chime.

“Mama had bad teeth and didn’t smile in pictures”

Bad teeth?  Didn’t smile?

I don’t remember—only saw “love.”

Squatting to my level to talk, making eye contact

Crazy cousins running around, but she is talking to ME.

Warm loving smiling eyes.

Never noticed  teeth when embraced by love.

Sorry my younger cousins and siblings never knew or don’t remember. . .. .

Grandma Love.

Playing in the hallway at home—six years old.

Mom ironing under the sky-light.

Phone rings.

Mom gasps. Sits down in play room.

Talks in short, quiet tones.

Grandma Long has died. . . .one of my love-lines had broken.

No memories of visitation or funeral

Protected?. . . . but not shielded from grief.

Seventy years later. . ..still tears. . . .from memories or memories not made?