SOCKS

Socks,

A suitcase,

A gentle way about him,

He styled himself after George Bernard Shaw.

Coming to New York from Jamaica during the depression,

His new wife and baby son in tow,

Rejecting the life of an attorney,

For a different kind of adventure.

Selling socks in New York City,

Being a cantor,

Teaching himself anatomy,

And how to breathe properly by holding his breath,

While walking around Central Park.

Years later, riding a ferry in Casco Bay,

We would debate the various attributes of socks,

His son extolling the virtues of the “seamless sock”,

As the aspirational goal of sockdom.

We’d laugh a bit,

Perplexed by the outcome of things,

The 3 of us,

On cool water in summer,

Morning sun,

Salty air,

Filled with wonder at how we all ended up here,

Together.