-The immediate family-

               Incidental Preamble:

               I grew to enjoy my standing in the classification of “Immediate Family”.

               It meant I could push my way through the crowds of well-wishers
               and walk directly into the Intensive Care Unit.

               Of my early immediate family, my young sister, three

               years my elder, seemed blessed with talent.

               I say “blessed” without knowing who it was or what it was

               which blessed her with talent.
               Call it the Holy Ghost.
               Call it her tenacity.

               Call it a forced critique from the morning
               egg man delivering farm-fresh, still warm,
               dotted with chickenshit and little strands of hay
               as he stood at attention at the screen door of the kitchen.

               (she’d tap for anyone at first notice)

               or it might have been the result of

               enthusiastic reviews from Uncle Joe, a cool guy

               who smoked kingsize menthol and had a calling...

               Talent is defined here as: dancing,

               singing,–– performing on short notice 

               for relatives, parental friends, or
               the Encyclopedia salesman, as my little brother,
               three years my younger, watched with curiosity

               from the wings of the hallway

               while I hid under the bed until the coast was clear.

               As for me, my parents did make an effort

               by shelling-out for saxophone lessons

               taught by a neighborhood nightclub Jazzman.

               I don’t recall my little brother

               taking lessons of any kind, but

               years later I drew a penciled portrait of Joe,

               my father's younger brother, from memory
               long after he died (too young in life) by "undisclosed means".
               the local paper's obituary section wasn't ready with an exposé

               for the likes of Uncle Joe.

               The belching saxophone was short-lived, too,

               but as things were I had no complaints.

               Most of my cousins were forced into taking
               accordion lessons.

               Quequechan / early in the fifties