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The Saga of Grandpa Miller
Tucked away in the Kentucky hills
long before I was alive.
Lived a man named Granville Miller
and this story now derived.
It is the story passed from a mother,
Of her father ~ to her son.
Some things have been forgotten now,
From when the story first begun.
A very tall and lanky man.
His eyesight poorly blessed.
He tried to hold his own,
in his mountain home
Along with all the rest.
Known for his bluegrass music
That rang throughout the hills.
His banjo, his constant companion.
(It is with our family, still.)
A leader in his community
He always was the one
That would reach into his pocket
to try to help someone.
He would become the father of five daughters
Six boys were to become his sons.
With so many hungry mouths to feed
His task was not an easy one!
In the hills of his Kentucky home
He owned the General Store.
His neighbors came to buy his wares
And as soon seen ~ a little more.
I can somehow see a picture
Of his store within those hills.
Who knows, in the mountains of Kentucky
It may be standing still!
Along a wall stood sacks of grain
Some powder, and a gun.
Some shelves with cans, made by his hands.
Home-made toys for little ones.
Wood planked floors with cracks galore
That saw the ground below.
Material of a modest print
For the ladies hands to sew.
It seemes that Granville gave away
much more than he sold.
He never turned away a family
once their story had been told.
He bartered some, and ran a tab
Which was the custom of the day.
Times were hard for everyone
so he was seldom paid.
He had to feed his family.
He did the best he could!
Within the poverty of his day
The "living" wasn't good.
Then came the days of prohibition ~
Had the battle somehow been won?
Surely far in the hills of Kentucky
Revenuer's would not come.
They would be looking for the runners
that delivered from the stills.
They wouldn't look for a family man
with a country store within the hills.
So he added to his little store
A room guarded from the back
He didn't run the moonshine
But that is all he lacked.
Upon those shelves, in mason jars
He sold another ware ~
Jars of homemade White Lightening
Its quality uncompared!
Mountain men and whiskey
A true Hillbilly's dream.
They came from afar to take the jars
All was well it seemed.
This added bit of extra change
Kept his family fed
but he knew the chances he was taking
each night when he climbed into his bed.
They came with guns and handcuffs,
just as he feared they would one day.
Who supplied his moonshine?
Of course he wouldn't say.
Just a simple little storefront
When the law stopped by that day
They found the room quite easily
Someone had given him away!
Two years he spent in prison,
away from his family and his home.
The gentle giant of the mountains
Sat in prison all alone.
His only crime ~ the whiskey.
Just a little of the law outside.
In the absence of his banjo
The mountains truly cried!
He returned to raise his family
mostly still within those hills.
His General Store held nothing more
Than groceries and good will.
He was the grandfather of many grandchildren,
When I met this charming man
Still very tall in stature
With his banjo in his hands.
I was treated to some stories
Of days when he was young
The banjo played as in olden day
But this time with his grandson.
And then upon his knee he placed
The grandson of his daughters birth.
Three generations of the day
I can't tell you its worth!
So many years behind him now
I wondered of the man
That now so gently held my son
Within his withered hands.
I was told he owned some fishing lakes,
A few houses bought and sold.
This aging man with withered hands
Had riches yet fortold.
So for you, Dear Grandpa Miller
I write this for your grandson
To tell but just some of your story
to be passed on to his son.
Ninety-eight years upon this earth
to us, you are no more
But I bet in the halls of heaven
You run the General Store.
A true American hero. A true American legend. You do not see people around like that anymore. People who care more for others, than themselves. What a man! Somebody should build a statue to him in Kentucky.
Great vivid descriptions.
Dear Lesa,
thank you for such a great tribute. Tears running down my cheek. I can see him hanging with my dad making great music. My dad loved the harmonica and played it beautifully. I'll bet the two of them are playing sweet and joyful tunes to the loving God that made it all possible. This is indeed a beautiful piece and I hope we can do justice to it when we paint it. I'm looking forward to finding just the right music to put with it.
Sounds like he was a pretty terrific guy...with lots of love for his fellow man. The story your paint teaches us what true love for our fellows is all about.
in light and Spirit,
Bob
This poem really flows. Probably because you loved writing about Grandpa Miller and it really shows. You did a great job. He would be proud. This should be a bluegrass song.
Kris
Yeah,renee is right....u oughta frame this up alongside with a pic of Grandpa. Smilesz.
Will surely make a remarkable family treasure to be passed down for many more decades.
What a saga indeed....Thanxs for sharing, lesa.
well this is such a joy to read......
well thought out and written......
the images of this tall and lanky man....... selling whitelighting out the back of his store...... dreading the day of that visit...... dealing with it with honor and trust never telling things out of church as they use to say.......
I can hear the banjo (one of my favorite instruments).....
I can remember as a child growing up in a family of musicans there was nothing like the sound of a good banjo player........
this was just an awesome way to pass the stories of a great man on to those that never had a chance to meet him......
I am sure that your family really loves this piece......
have it printed up on some cool looking paper attach some picture of Grandpa Miller and this would be a great thing to pass down from generation to generation....... I have one that a lady wrote of my mom...... and my grandmother has it framed with three pictures of her........ it really adds to the sense of the poem....... not that your description of him is not a great one.........
anyway I truly loved this piece.......
Grandpa Miller's a truly American character--resilient in body & mind, determined, & strong-willed, resourcefull, & individualistic, yet generous & concerned for others.
The poem has the rhythmic cadences of a country ballad & the story is well-developed. Through the many physical & psychological details you include, Grandpa Miller does come alive in the imagination, this "tall & lanky man," with his "eyesight poorly blessed," pluckin' his banjo in the hills of Kentucky.
His story also illustrates how the law can be so wrong, & how a decent man (or woman) can land in prison for no other reason than to try to make ends meet & keep his family alive.
That ole grandpa Miller survived all this & went on to become the "grandfather of many grandchildren" is a tribute to his resourcefulness & strong character as is this wonderful ballad of yours. Certainly he must be runnin' the General Store in Heaven!
Great work, Lesa, thanks for sharing.
Lesa, a quote from a famous writer comes to mind, since you voiced to me some misgivings about publishing "SAGA"; Henry Van Dyke: "....these woods would be silent if no birds sang except those that sang best." May I add my sincerest applause to that, & to your other favorable critix. Keep it flowing; I look forward to seeing more of your "practice singing". You certainly have the ability & the mental resources. Rex
"Poe" I'm not, nor "Rich" am I,
but I'll be famous, b'ye and b'ye !
OH Lesa, I just absolutely LOVE this! There is nothing like a good true story poem!! this one made me feel like I was there and knew the man. And such nostalgic folklore... A great look at a little piece of americana!
Peace and love ~~~ Dougie ~~