Black Coal Poem by JAMES T. ADAIR

My grandfather long ago died
His name was Andy
When I was a boy
he gave me some Coal Candy

A little silver hammer
he handed me to crack a piece of coal
or looked very much like it
but to me it was like a nugget of gold

I remember it was really licorice
or made of Annisette
but it was hard and brittle
As hard as things get

I remember the taste
and how he used to save things
and never liked to waste
and every tool he owned had its place

He was so handy
and when I think of it
It rhymes with Andy
but he was my 'Grandpop'

He was a coal miner
in an Anthracite mine
and worked as a blacksmith
for a short time

Though he never went to school
He survived the Great Depression
and raised three children
and often had to change profession

He moved to Detroit for a time
because there was no work at home
He and his brother worked there
and had to go it alone

They assembled door panels
used by General Motors
with wood and steel
and screws drills and routers

He learned about tools
and he learned about math
from mail order books
Bound with the skin of a calf

He was such a strong guy
even in his eighties
Very broad shoulders
Still tipped his hat to the ladies

They don't make guys like that anymore
I think to myself
simple and true
secure in themself

I would have liked to know him
When he was a baseball pitcher
When he was young
Like I saw in a picture

He made me realize
There is more than just school
He used his mind
Uneducaded but no fool

Now jobless and facing
trials of my own
I thought of him
as I worked on my home

I'm laid off from work
and out on the street
my finances are drained
and I'm out of oil for heat

So I've been working
Installing a stove that burns coal
and it made me think
about the times of old

My Granpop worked in coal mines
and then my memory went back
to his basement, his coal bin
and his coal stove so black

Then I though of my own ability
to repair and fix and mend
cars, plumbing, and most anything
These skills it seems like God did send

I've become a little like the man
I always admired
and suddenly I realized
we must have been similarly wired

like a roller coaster without end
How strange this journey has been
so many bumps and bruises
A race I can't seem to win

But I'm glad somehow
I know he'd never quit
and the thought of black coal
made me recall it

So life has its lessons
now I realize
I've lived it and have seen
with my own weary eyes.

I'll make it somehow
to whatever is my true fate
and I'd better hurry
I know its getting late