1881, in a small house in Avondale,
Newfoundland, grandpop
was born 145 years ago.

Mine is about the only memory
in which he still exists.

Sweet canned peaches. He’d open some
when Dad and I would visit him, rarely,
in his Camden rowhouse, 70 + years ago.

I was an unindulged child.
Though Dad would
sometimes recollect a harsh childhood
with a mean, unloving father, it’s 145 years  
and no one’s left to dispute
my grandpop celebration of
sweet
syrupy
peaches.