Sunday, February 7, 2010


Editor's note: "Little boys ask questions, and little boys demand answers. The quality of their preschool education sometimes depends a great deal on the wisdom, mental dexterity, diplomacy and tact of Grandpa." I always figured Dad had our son Scott in mind when he wrote that introduction to this poem. Scott (and later his sister Christine) used to love spending a couple of weeks "down on the farm" with their Grandpa and Grandma Pickett each summer -- and knowing Scott, I'm sure there was no shortage of questions.

Grandfathers all will tell you
It's a super-human task
To answer all the questions
That little fellers ask.

Grandpa, where is Heaven,
Do they have McDonald's there?
Do butterflies have babies,
And why don't snakes have hair?

How do honey bees make honey?
And do fishes sleep at night?
He wonders why the sky is blue,
And why the snow is white.

Grandpa fibs a little bit,
Sometimes, to make a show,
For it would hurt his image
To admit he doesn't know.

And many of the riddles
Coming from this little man,
Even Solomon couldn't answer,
But he thinks his Grandpa can!

--The Buckeye Poet (1991)

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