My grandfather, D.B. Cox, was the very best kind of Grandad...the kind that would get down on the floor and play with you; let you braid his ridiculously long comb-over and put barrettes in it; put a swing up in his basement so you could swing even when it was cold and snowy outside; build you a perfect small-person-scale kitchen cupboard, fill it with with awesome play dishes - including little pots and pans - and then have dinner with you in your little kitchen on your little dishes, even when the dinner was made of water and pork rinds.
He was also a very accomplished amateur photographer, cataloging the lives of his granddaughters (my sister and I) on a very regular basis, recording all his and Grammy's (the incomparable Marie Amend Cox) retirement trips (and there were plenty!), and photographing the beauty of the Cody (Wyoming) country he lived in and loved.
After Grammy died in 1976, Grandad had a few years of sadness, understandably. But as he came out of that sadness, he found his joy and his humor again. And he started writing poems and taking photos to illustrate them. All his poems were typed on an old manual typewriter (thus my choice of Courier font), and all his photos were taken with an old Polaroid.
My mother recently gave me all the poems he'd created. They are funny, poignant, joyous tidbits...a lot of them about family and a lot more about the perils of aging. They all make me smile and laugh, and I hope they will do the same for you.
And so begins this blog, a record of my grandfather's humorous poems...A Revoltin' Development.