|Wonder Bread in its Canadian packaging.|
“It was white bread that shocked me most,” she said.
“Spongy, no taste Wonder Bread.” Grandmother
arrived in the USA in Nineteen-nineteen.
She was eighteen. Or so the story goes. Recently, I
fact checked via the world-wide web, and learned Wonder
Bread didn't come alive until Nineteen-twenty-one. Hmm.
Could Wonder Bread by other names be more or less
wonderful? I loved Grandmother’s stories, her courage and
her grin, yet searched Wikipedia to find pre-wonder bread.
Voila! A man named Otto patented a bread slicer
in Nineteen-twelve. But wait. Fire destroyed it! No
working model came before Nineteen-twenty-eight.
Did grandmother forget? Did she alter her dates
to cover something else? When did the ocean liner sail?
How old was she? Was it war-torn Germany she escaped??
Should I investigate further for history’s sake? Why?
I'll let laziness and fondness win the game. I don’t want
to know. I've got her smile. What else is there to gain?
Prompted by NaPoWriMo Day Seventeen: "write a poem re-telling a family anecdote that has stuck with you over time." My Grandmother, Mary Berner told many stories about her life (1901-2003). I knew her (since 1951) as an artist, art teacher, anti-nuclear power activist, environmentalist, gardener, seamstress, and writer. And she loved to read.
Note: I disabled comments for April 2018, International Poetry Writing Month, because I am trying to write and post daily and experiment with prompts from other sites. If you wish to make specific constructive comments, I would be delighted to exchange emails. (Right click on email in my profile.) You can also leave comments on my facebook page where this poem is posted.
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© 2018 Susan L. Chast