I thought of my grandfathers today. Clyde Grant Elder Sr and Clarence Adkins. I thought of Clyde driving into the University of Cincinnati every day, enjoying his lucrative job as engineer, or not. Then going home and listening to his Train albums and his Latin music. I thought of Clarence walking a good ten miles from his home on Forest Avenue to his new job at General Electric circa 1942. I guess that trek wasn't too crazy. He was a Georgia man afterall and walking miles to the grocer or school was part of his natural understanding of things.

Clarence died when I was nine and Clyde passed away when I was nineteen. I remember them both. One brown, one very light. One a minister and mysteriously wise, the other-secular and charming. Both had beautiful wives and lots of friends and family who simply adored them. I'm not certain what their dreams were like. I don't even remember their favorite foods [although Clyde loved gumbo and seafood of any kind]. I know one died of bone cancer, the other a massive heart attack. Clarence's wife always seemed honored and pleased whenever asked about her husband. Particularly the time they met on a red-clay road in Georgia. Clyde's wife was not so doting during posthumous discussion of her spouse. Although the tale of kissing my grandfather was often highlighted by her disgust with a nosey aunt.

Whatever they dreamed, who they REALLY loved, what they actually thought I'll never know. I do know their worlds must have appeared wide and unlimited. That anything was possible. And I'm sure they never once imagined their grandson living in New York City, taking a moment to remember that without their choices, however triumphant, however daunting, he'd be able to take bigger steps and think wide as the sky.

Until next time,

Keith