Blues

By Blake Rondeau

When I put my Blues away
I packed them in an airtight
bag.
I put that bag in a grey tote
and put that tote on the bottom shelf
hidden
by the cupboards that were installed
later

My wife asked me to wear them
to a Veteran’s Day function
But
They did not fit me any longer.
Perhaps my weight has caught up
to me
or perhaps I have grown out of that
person

When I joined, my father showed
me pictures from his time in
service
Expecting, I guess, for me to be
impressed by the machines or his
physique
Which, just as mine now, has
burgeoned

My grandfather never showed me
anything from his time stationed in
Italy
This was, oddly, during the Korean
War, when he had enlisted as an
MP
To avoid being shot in the head by a
sniper

Such was the fate of his neighbor.
My grandfather never showed
pictures
But I did get him to tell me some
stories, recorded when he wasn’t
watching
Now I can still hear them after he’s
gone

My other grandfather served in WWII,
but the war ended in bootcamp and he
discharged
I have only a few photos from his time
at MCRD, and a beautiful wool winter
jacket
An ironic reminder, so unlike him:
warm

A man who would drink and be rough
with my grandma and my mother
often
We lived with them for two perilous
years and I can only remember his
martinis
Gin, dry vermouth, with three olives
Dirty

A gravestone in the national cemetery
tells me his father served too, in WWI
cavalry
A pistol with his name on it is sitting
loaded in my father’s safe in the
basement
Someday it will be left to me as an
inheritance

I hope to unload it and lock it in my
own safe, in the basement next to the
blues
On the shelf; unused, unnecessary to
be called upon again for action or
service
No stories, no photos, items like
artifacts

I want my daughter to take my blues
out only to have my body burned with
them
Leaving nothing for her to have to
live up to, witness, or experience
Never
to inherit the burden or cost of
war.

****

Blake Rondeau is a United States Marine Corps veteran. His writing has appeared in the Summit Avenue Review, Proud to Be, and Military Experience and the Arts. Rondeau has led writer’s workshops for veterans transitioning into civilian life and finally learned to take his own advice. He’s happiest walking in the woods with his wife, daughter, and dog.