When I was a hog...
Grandma Susie Brooks Overton was a prolific poet, but as far as we know, she wasn't published other than her photocopied collection. As a 2nd grader, I was published in two newspapers’
Nice photo, I’m told, but not as pretty as seeing our backyard in person when the azaleas are in full bloom and the grass is a rich green. So, what does this have to do with today’s story? Nothing, just a nice photo to get you started!
The imagination of an 8-year old
“When I was a hog” my poem began, a thoughtful beginning only a second-grade student could muster.
The 16-line poem, I like to believe, can only be credited to the imagination of an eight-year old who, along with the rest of his second-grade elementary school class, was tasked (such a big word for so many, so young) with submitting poetic efforts to the teacher.
We were instructed to write a poem or short story. Eight years old, we were, and the teacher wanted to study the curiosities of second-graders.
The teacher, in turn, submitted some of our written efforts to a newspaper that had ample statewide circulation including our hometown of Sanford NC. The newspaper included my poem in an edition. A literary star was born! Hah!
More on that later, but first, another beauty by Grandma Susie:
At the End of the Lane
There was a seeping willow tree
Besides the quiet pool;
Pitcher plants upon its crest
Were resting in the cool.
The bay tree leaves in glistening sheen,
The blooms in purest white
Lend fragrance to the beauteous scene,
Resplendent in the light.
—Susie Brooks Overton
Susannah (Susie) Brooks was the fourth child of six children by William Isaac Brooks and his wife, Susannah Hunt. The fifth child was Mary Ida Brooks who, in years leading up to 1950, complied a genealogy book titled Brooks and Kindred Families.
The hard bound volume of 384 pages plus an index of everyone mentioned traces the Brooks family all the way back to England and then forward to the “Lost Colony” on Roanoke Island when in 1587 the settlers were left behind and never to be heard from, ever. “In the list of those left behind,” wrote great aunt Ida, we find the name JOHN BROOKS.”
This book is the method of family tracing and recording many years prior to the invention of Ancestry.com! Though I’m not mentioned in great aunt Ida’s collection of names and dates, I refer to it regularly to learn more and more about relatives.
I like to say I’m about 12th or 13th generation American on my mother’s mother’s side of the family, but only 2nd generation on my Dad’s who was born in the United States in 1917 to parents who had immigrated from somewhere in eastern Europe: areas of Hungary, Romania, Ukraine.
In Aunt Ida’s book, my older siblings, Robert E. (Robbie) Pomeranz, Jr., and Suzanne Pomeranz, are listed. I was born in 1952 and missed the publication deadline by a couple of years.
Speaking of Suzanne, who lives among our Dad’s relatives in Israel—Jerusalem, to be exact—here’s a Susie Brooks Overton original about her fourth grandchild and namesake:
Suzanne
Suzanne is like a fairy queen
Who reigns in realms apart.
She waves her wand and weaves unseen
A fabric in her heart.
And none can see the hidden loom
Where each new thread entwines,
Nor watch the magic flowers bloom
In patterns she designs.
—Susie Brooks Overton
So, what does all of this have to do with my poem, “When I was a hog…?” Segue, my dear child, segue. I had to get from opening to closing of today’s post. So, here goes with the conclusion:
The teacher of my second grade class was Maybelle Brooks, wife of Thomas Jarvis Brooks who was ninth of 12 children by William Marsh Brooks and his wife Jemima Elizabeth Hawley.
The first of the dozen was William Isaac Brooks, as mentioned above, and who married Susannah Hunt.
Their fourth child was Susannah Brooks, who turned out to be my Grandma. Jarvis was my grandma’s uncle, my mother’s great uncle and my great, great uncle, if I’ve follow the lineage correctly. Uncle Jarvis was indeed great, great! Lots of fun to be around.
Anyway, to drag this along, here’s what was printed about my poem—as well as my poem—in the Sanford Herald, June 7, 1960:
The second grade pupils of Mrs. T. J. Brooks (aunt Maybelle) at the Warren R. Williams (elementary) school wrote poems and short stories during the past year as a part of their language work.
Recently, Mrs. Brooks sent in several of the poems to the “Little Writers” column of the Charlotte Observer. The poem written by James Pomeranz, son of Mr. and Mrs. R. E. Pomeranz of McCracken Heights was selected for publication.
So, without further ado, here’s my poem:
When I was a hog
I lived in a log
There was a frog
On the end of the log
I saw a king
Go and sing
I saw a rabbit
So I went to get Abbit.
I went to bed
The next morning I was dead
I went to school
And came back cool
I went my way
Each and every day,
And lived that way
On a big stack of hay.
Now, go to sleep, young Jimmy, go to sleep and dream of hogs, frogs, kings, rabbits, life, death, and, uh, Abbit, whoever or whatever that is!
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