Ode to Americana
Gone are the days of my youth.
When we celebrated the bicentennial,
with our colonial dresses, cotton bowed bonnets,
and my brother looking like George Washington.
When the wagon train heading to Oregon,
traveled down Route 6 and,
stopped into Scranton’s north side.
When olde time radio came back to life on PBS.
And a man name Garrison Keillor,
told us stories,
of the Mid-West prairie,
somewhere near Lake Wobegon.
And the simple life Americans,
once enjoyed.
How we sang songs for the love of our nation,
and neighbor.
Where blueberry pie with vanilla ice cream,
was enjoyed on a wraparound front porch.
And those valuable lessons of life were discussed,
while fishing with dad.
When grandma’s kitchen,
was a gathering place of love.
Children were able to play,
carefree and being a kid was a wondrous time.
Catching fire flies—
Playing baseball just like our home-run idols.
Listening to tales of Paul Bunyan,
and how the pioneers settled this great land.
When the fourth of July celebrations,
were always a sea of red, white and blue.
I hear the echoes of the America I grew up in.
Hoping that our country tis-of-thee has not lost her way.
Author: Mary Ann Abdo
Photo: Logan DeBorde on Unsplash
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