Grandchild #2, Daniel Anthony Casuga-Dy
I will haunt him with all the rest of his best days. Dan Man.
For that one joy grandfathers hunt for: a fishing buddy boy.
He is not the little show. Not the unheard. Not merely seen.
Junior Senior High did he not work at cooking fries? So?
And wrote that essay which Mom rushed to my sulking Lolo:
He must think it’s great then, (Mr. Simms called it my best),
Now this pubescent grandson he thought he still knew.
“I am not a sideshow, you know!” He was just a wee lad of two
or three then (not even in kindergarten?). Was he not then?
we think we know.” (Or "one is forever lonely?"). Filosopo?
Not that kind of charlatan. He is the real thing. Philosopher.
College education was a breeze after all. After the struggle.
Moving on, he said, work, graduate work, more capitalist
Ventures on his plate. He is the consummate host to relatives
Godmother, Abuelo, Abuela, Aunts, Dad Nash, Mom Nicole,
Cousins, nephews, nieces, the college and workplace gang,
His sister Diana Patricia, and, he whispered to Lolo: The girls.
Before curtains fall on Lolo’s show, and dotage robs you
Of your victory, I must concede: You have become the Big Show.
NO LONGER THE SIDE SHOW:
INTERACTIVE POEMS
(For Daniel Anthony Casuga-Dy, 21, Grandchild #2)
1. The Lolo’s Side Show
Protesting
, “I am not a side show”, he ran off
to his room
Half-naked
in his kindergarten pants: I got him! A mantraI will haunt him with all the rest of his best days. Dan Man.
Would
I ask him to sing maybe? Dance? Say twinkle
star?
I
did, that one time I needed to see my little Danny Boy,For that one joy grandfathers hunt for: a fishing buddy boy.
But
no, he is not a side show. Not for a jig, nor for a song,
Not
even for the call from those pipes from
glen to glen:He is not the little show. Not the unheard. Not merely seen.
No, not a little show. No,
not the little show. The Big Show.
The
littlest rebel did not take long to prove he’s got mettle:Junior Senior High did he not work at cooking fries? So?
2. Making Up with His Ace Philo Essay
Homework is easy stuff.
Home Work is the tough stuff:
Dad got the better of
his worn-out ticker; I took an apron.And wrote that essay which Mom rushed to my sulking Lolo:
“A Gift Outright” the
Grand man called it on Father’s Day,
And I remembered Frost
had that Inaugural Poem for JFK.He must think it’s great then, (Mr. Simms called it my best),
The gramps I did not
sing for, nor danced for as a “sideshow”
When I was that nude
toddler he coaxed as his lump of joy,Now this pubescent grandson he thought he still knew.
3. The Essay as I
Recall
Daniel’s
essay is so like Daniel. Here is that puling little boy
who stormed out, when doted upon by
this dimwitted dotard:“I am not a sideshow, you know!” He was just a wee lad of two
or three then (not even in kindergarten?). Was he not then?
O he was voluble about things he
thought he knew, he knew.
An impressive thesis: “One will never
truly know whomsoever we think we know.” (Or "one is forever lonely?"). Filosopo?
Not that kind of charlatan. He is the real thing. Philosopher.
4. The Big Show: A
Prelude
Graduation day. How he regales his audience of lovers.
He laughs, squints, flirts with the
damsels, too. Handsome.College education was a breeze after all. After the struggle.
Moving on, he said, work, graduate work, more capitalist
Ventures on his plate. He is the consummate host to relatives
Godmother, Abuelo, Abuela, Aunts, Dad Nash, Mom Nicole,
Cousins, nephews, nieces, the college and workplace gang,
His sister Diana Patricia, and, he whispered to Lolo: The girls.
He is not a sideshow,
all right. I
did not misread your essay,
Danny
Boy. How little I knew you, mettle and all.
O Dan Man,Before curtains fall on Lolo’s show, and dotage robs you
Of your victory, I must concede: You have become the Big Show.
---ALBERT
B. CASUGA
Mississauga, June 16,
2014
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