My Inheritance

Some people have really good genes.  They are lucky enough to be super good at soccer or playing the flute or throwing shot put or climbing ropes.  I don’t have any of those genes.  Some people also have really good jeans.   They have the jeans that are just the right shade of blue and the perfect cut and make your legs look really good.  I don’t have those jeans either.  But the genes that I do have are specifically tailored to making clever rhymes and limericks.  See, I have poetry in my genes.

You can trace it.  As Mormons are a record-keeping people, I’ve discovered poems written by my great-grandparents, ancient aunts, and creative cousins.  I grew up listening to old Cousin Rolf reciting his cowboy poetry every year at the family reunions.  I admired the way he could talk for an hour and never run out of rhyming words.  Uncle Doug also had the gift—he is something of a family historian with his poetry.  He weaves the stories of his childhood, the lives of his parents, and his most precious memories into verse in a way that engages the imagination better than a your average narrative.   With these poetry gods in the family, I should be a natural, right?

{Cousin Rolf the Poetry Master}

Actually, it’s true.  I am pretty good.  Like, when I was in the second grade, I won the school poetry contest…and there was just no stopping me after that snippet of glory.  I became a connoisseur of all things word play, specializing in puns and silly rhymes.  My best friend and I passed notes to each other between classes, always trying to one-up each other and see who could create the best witty verses.  Really, some of my greatest triumphs have come from a perfectly placed quip.  It’s great.

{Can a friendship based on puns endure?  Yes it can!}

However, poetry deeply touches me spiritually as well.  There have been times when I’ve received answers to prayers through stanzas and strophes in words that were placed in my mind by a Divine Hand.  Even though poems are just words organized in a different fashion, they speak to me more clearly through emotions when my logic seems to be at a loss.  I love the deceiving transparency that they possess; somehow they manage to hide their true meaning from those who give only a superficial read-through. 

I’ve chosen to memorize a poem by my uncle, Doug Flake, called Answering the Call.  It means a lot to me because he wrote it about my grandfather, and, let’s be honest; it is pretty darn cool to have family this talented.  Poetry is something that keeps my memories and my family alive to me.  It is an outlet for my emotions and creativity.  Maybe I didn’t get the baking genes or the Guitar Hero genes, but I can write a darn good poem!  And this is a legacy that I carry with pride.