June 11, 2009
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Grandfathers are called many names.
I called my father’s father Papa and my mother’s father Nana.
I always used to play Trump with Papa.
Trump is when one card overrules another.
The person with the most points wins.
Nana would tell me stories
about living and working on the farm in Guyana.
He would have to feed and wash
the goats, pigs, horses, cows, sheep, cats, and dogs.

Grandfathers are so loving.
You can go to them with anything.
I would go to Papa with problems about school.
Papa would tell me to try and try again
until I got it right.
I would go to Nana
about problems with friends.
Nana would tell me to work it out with them
and things would get better soon.
They both told me they would help me
and I would have to do the rest by myself.

Papa and I would sneak peppermint patties
from the fridge.
Nana and I would also watch Indian movies together
like Kabi Kushi Kabi Gam (It’s About Loving Your Parents),
and Muji Dosti Karoge (Do You Want to Be Friends?).

Although they have both died,
I still remember them as though they are still here.

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