My Grandpa Spurgeon was a man who liked things just so. His house was a tidy one; even his garage was immaculate. His was the kind of house where, if you forgot to use a coaster… well, you just used a coaster, okay? And at meals, a cloth napkin. Everyone got their own slightly-different napkin ring so they didn’t need to be washed after every meal.
Tag Archives: robert frost
Poetry and Me
I was introduced to poetry in third, or maybe fourth grade, by Mr. Hyde back in Pistol River School. He gave all of us a general knowledge test. We all flunked poetry. Before we knew it, we were told to memorize Carl Sandburg’s poem “Fog”:
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