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Three
Poems
by Gary
Lehmann
Watercolor
Fantasy
One
day after dinner, Thomas Gainsborough tried something new.
Just
for fun, and because he was having trouble getting clouds right,
he
attached a small rag to the end of a stick.
In
several dishes, he mixed up a very light set of multi-colored
washes.
Dipping
his stick from one dish to the next, he swept the rag over the
paper.
Then
he walked each wet sheet across the room to dry it by the fire.
Anxious
to get back to wetting more, he called in the maid to take
over.
There
were the clouds that had evaded him, emerging as if from no
where.
He
noticed that the darker colors created valleys and mountains just
as easily.
With
the simple addition of a few people, animals and trees,
he
suddenly created a new landscape, a house set into the hillside,
a dream.
It
was magical, like discovering Alice in Wonderland inside a simple
pencil.
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The
Orphan Train
We’d
pull into a station whether it was day or night.
The
Children’s Aide Society lined us up on the platform.
Lots
of people came to see us. Free children. No questions
asked.
I
stood holding my brother’s hand so they’d know we
wanted to stay together.
Those
who were selected went off with their new parents -- then and
there.
The
rest of us got back on the train bound for a new station and a
new chance.
Mother
died of tuberculosis in 1925 in Elmira.
Father
Floyd was still suffering from war injuries.
He
couldn’t hold a job and had to give us up.
The
Society arrived in a big car and offered us candy.
That
was the last we saw of our parents, home, or friends.
For
a time we lived in an orphanage in New York City.
Then
in December 1927, we were put on The Orphan Train.
For
days we lined up on platforms from Philadelphia to
Atlanta.
Victor
and I always dressed in our best clothes.
We’d
hold hands quietly and wait. There was nothing else to
do.
The
hardest part was getting back on the train,
knowing
some children had found a home in this place we hardly knew.
Then
one blizzardy night, the train rolled into Wellington, Texas.
The
Society took over the lobby of a local hotel to get everyone
inside.
Victor
and I got so used to rejection that we hardly looked at the
people.
A
rancher came up to us and asked if we’d like to live on a
farm.
It’ll
be hard work,
he said, but
you’ll be outdoors most the time.
We
looked at each other and shook our heads. Yes.
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Fluffernutter
In
1507, a German cartographer
working
in rural Saint-Die, France
decided
for no particularly good reason
that
he would name the continent
on
the other side of the Atlantic
--
America --
because
it is the Latin form of the
first
name of Amerigo Vespucci,
the
man who first suggested that a
continent
might be in that location.
Fluffernutter
was named with more sense than that!
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