There are so many joys that come with my job, but none are quite as fun as photographing friends, family, or people from your past. Teddy read a poem I wrote at our great grandmother’s funeral. This is something I will always remember, because I was too afraid I would cry while reading it. Our great grandmother was a sweet lady who would wait with me on her front porch as I waited for the bus. I will never forget the candies she would sneak into my hand before leaving for school. This poem I wrote years ago, right around the time I started seeing my wife. How time flies by and how quickly things change. Photographs are a huge part of holding onto memories- just another reason I love my job. Thank you Teddy for being you.
Florence Lutz was our Great Grandma
From a very early age, I can remember a woman watching a tatty old TV sitting in a tattered old chair
Looking at a man with walnuts in his ears
On the floor beside her russet walking shoes, were the toys she got from the revered cardboard box
Rummaging through that box we discovered the remnants of past childhoods not forgotten, just placed upon a shelf.
Every visit to great grandma’s house meant one of two things…candy or donuts
Neither went without discount, us boys we need not have refused.
Considering her age, Grandma Florence was a resilient wit
Even in her later days, her jesting was still in knack
Lady of the porch place, she would aid my wait.
Under bundle, toe to ear, without fail, she would be sitting there.
Time was of no concern to great grandma Lutz
ZZZs are what she looked forward to
When her hands and feet had failed her still, the Holy Bible’s pages fill
After she new her time be brief, another box was drawn from clandestine mantel
Something inherent of Lutz Farm earth, antiquated native stones of past
Given to every one of us a symbol of kinship deeper than blood
Revered as more than just a bequest but more of legacy for us to pass
Each of us has a part of her concealed within ourselves
A memory, a trait of mind or air, if lucky maybe something more
Time is but a funny thing,
Given by our GOD
Reminisced by all of us
A picture may be all we have to recall the years gone by
Never may we relive those memories of summers on the farm but
Deeply imbedded in our hearts is the love for a woman not forgotten?
May you all carry vivid memories or a grandma more than great
And lastly, let us not neglect to tell those to follow, of Florence a Grandma to us all.
