Woe is a weary traveler. But alas the goal and destination were both achieved. A funeral for Grandpa Latterell filled with nearly 65 of my fellow grandchildren and all his children in Duluth, Minnesota.
On Sunday night I rushed out the door after performing poetry with dancers in Poetry + Motion. Grabbed a spot of dinner then off to airport land for a red eye to Chicago and 4 hours later a connecting flight to Duluth.
Jimbo passed the time away playing with my reusable shopping bag.
I drank coffee, read the letters of Denise Levertov and William Carlos Williams, ate bad breakfast tacos, and chewed my nails when the Duluth flight was delayed.
I made it just in time to greet the family cats, change my clothes and get to the funeral say hello to the cousins I haven't seen in years before the service began. Afterwards we enjoyed a Northern Minnesota buffet accompanied by the hula music Grandpa requested be played.
Grandpa was a few weeks shy of 99 – he had a good near hundred years of life – 30 of them spent living retired in Florida. One can only hope that they have the same opportunity to live so fully.
During the service – we couldn't help but laugh at the story of Grandpa's opinion of organic food. "It all comes from the dirt." said Dr. Latterell – and I the poet Latterell says back to the dirt we all go one way or another.
Rest in peace Grandpa.