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Poppa Poems |
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As soon as we had kids, I did my best to institute and maintain a bedtime tradition of Poppa Poems, whenever I could manage it. Some of my sweetest parental memories (right up there with Saturday-morning cocoa ripple ring, from the Better Homes and Gardens pink plaid cookbook) derive from extending that practice to the spider tent after dark in Clearwater Campground.
When grandkids came on the scene, I did my best to perpetuate this amiable folkway, to the extent that the grown-ups would permit. As I recall, Lindsay was my first descendant who showed much inclination to develop her own repertoire, although I’d be delighted to be corrected on that score. On April 6, I published a compact-disc audio recording of 32 of my favorites and gave a copy of “Poems my Poppa Loved Me to Sleep With” to each then-extant grandsquirt. Some have confessed to deriving some pleasure from these gifts, though not recently: |
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