He was always out dancing, said his mother, my grandmother,
of her oldest boy Charles, who loved jazz,
loved to dance, loved to flirt,
work on his model-T,
but hated school
and left at sixteen
Charles, who will receive
a new stone from me
with room enough to carve
He Was Always Out Dancing
after his name and dates
of his short life,
Charles G. Sweeney, Jr.
1906-1922.
I would love to like this but somehow it feels on the one hand as too many minor details are told and on the other not enough. The details in themselves could be any one of a million people - hated school, loved dancing, had a mother and grandmother, died young. I would like to know how he died, why he needs a new stone and why the narrator feels so strongly about him to provide a new stone after all this time. If I saw the stone in a graveyard weirdly I would be more intrigued because I would have to imagine all those things for myself, here in the poem it feels they are being denied to me. This all sounds harsher than i want and I may change my mind in a day, but it is worth working on this some more.
I would also like to know a little more, Trish. Has Charles had any influence over your life?
Thank you for asking questions, David â thereâs a lot unsaid.
This ancestor isnât someone who impacted my life, more like my auntâs life.
This is written in the voice of my aunt.
Charles had a terrible, âaccidentalâ death so impacted my life in that way.
Thatâs okay, you donât have to like it; I write not for that purpose, actuallyâŚbut to try something new, I want to avoid the trap of writing something with the goal that it will be liked or approvedâŚI know thatâs not what you meant, exactly.
I appreciate the read and the comments, always!
I agree about not wanting to write what others might approve of, thatâ death. I just thought, when I read it, that you needed to be in the poem. I wondered how the idea of Charles might have influenced you, or what brings him to mind in your daily life.
I donât have to like it, but I do like reading what you post because itâs always interesting.
I like the spirit of this Trish. Especially the L7-9 where you leave room for him to continue in the afterlife.
I think you could drop âsaid her mother, my grandmotherâ in L1 as, at least for me, isnât needed to know the poem.any better.
Hi Trish,
The strengths of the poem for me is the memory cherished. There is irony and poignancy in the âoldestâ dying so young and kept alive in memory. A young death, from a selfish viewpoint, a reminder of our own mortality and of life to be lived. I feel the brevity of the poem reflects the brief life. There was an energy in his life, burning bright, perhaps because the responsibilities of adulthood did not have time to weigh in.
Phil
Thank you ; I never knew this person he died decades before I was born.Itâs a bit vague because I really knew nothing about him, these are just family stories. I appreciate your commenting and reading. (She purchased a new headstone, Iâm not sure why.)
âHe was always out dancingâ is a great thing for which to be remembered, I think. And I think it is the strongest phrase of the poem, the strongest notionâit defines the guy so fully. I wouldnât mind having the phrase âI should have learned to dance soonerâ etched to my gravestone, if I were to have one.
From time to time I go to a random cemetery and wander around. The inscriptions are both revealing and question-raising. The sad ones are a married couple surrounded by several infant internments, no doubt waves of disease.
Headstones record names and dates for families without written records. And there are many stories hinted but untold.
I very much like the fact of the N feeling the impulse to do a new stone. I have never entertained that thought with respect to my ancestorsâ grave markers, but now am intrigued with what might prompt the feeling.
I wouldnât suggest fiddling much with this, but if you do, consider sharing more of the Nâs situation. I feel like I know enough of the interned, but not much of what is causing the Narratorâs surprisingly strong emotions.
T