A Family Scrapbook

By Ralph Pitman

A Family Scrapbook is a collection of poems that trace the arc of 5 generations of a family; from the death of the author's grandfather on a cold winter day in Sioux City, Iowa to the birth and childhood of his 5 grandchildren. The poems are based on real people and real memories, but there is also something universal about the experience of growing up in families. They are behind us and in front of us, our history and our future. The author says that these poems are prayers: family prayers, prayers of thanksgiving, prayers of repentance, and prayers of intercession. But these poems are also little stories about the people who make up one American family. The collection is also an invitation to pull up a chair and share your own family scrapbook.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: May 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9781098375355

Book preview

Margaret

WE DON’T LOVE YOU

We don’t love you because you are smart

Because you can throw a ball

Because you can run very fast

Or because you can count to ten.

We don’t love you because you can sing

Because you are pretty or handsome

Because you make us laugh

Or for any way you make us feel.

We love you because

Just because

You are you.

DIVINITY

When I was young, my father would place chunks of coal in the fireplace of our living room at 1828 Delancey Place in Center City, Philadelphia. The coal burned slowly with no flame and very little smoke. It seemed to be stubborn with a will to endure, unlike the dry firewood that offered itself so willingly to the flame. I would sit and watch it for hours, carefully placing another coal on the fire when it was needed.

Through much of my life God has been like one of those burning coals, burning deep within the events of my life. I believe in free will, and I have certainly exercised more than my share, but I have never been able to resist God’s enduring presence. And nowhere has God been more present than in my family.

Lately, Janie and I have been digitizing our snapshots. They go back to childhood and beyond; parents, and parents of parents. We struggle to remember exactly who that was in the faded picture, or when that event happened, or which birthday that cake celebrated. With each picture we tell each other stories; many we have told before, and a few are new. The work is tedious, but the effect is, simply, gratitude.

These poems are not a substitute for the 5,000 pictures we (mostly Janie) have scanned. They are not an autobiography, although they are autobiographical. They are certainly not all inclusive. Rather, these poems are my memories. I think of them as prayers: family prayers, prayers of thanksgiving, prayers of repentance, prayers of intercession. Janie and I pray that our loved ones who live after us may one day gather and treasure their own memories, and, from time to time, catch a glimpse of the divinity that burns deep within them all.

THEIR WEDDING DAY

Mom and Pop were private people.

They told few stories

about their lives before us.

But today,

in her Houston home,

our daughter, the family archivist,

opened an envelope

she had received in the mail.

It contained an accordion wallet

of black and white snapshots

of my parents’ wedding day.

On the back of each