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Writer's pictureNicole Evans

-Sunset : 4/03/2015, Good Friday (90yrs.)





baby boy evans,

 you would think they didn’t care for him,

Leaving him somewhat nameless for the first umpteen years of his life,

baby boy evans,

he wasn’t the oldest of his mom’s kids, even though she was only

umpteen years old by the time she gave birth to him,

baby boy evans,

was eventually called after his father,

-a former numbers runner turned janitor

From Illinois via Louisiana,

where family lore proves his kinship to satchmo from being in the same

boys home,

baby boy evans,

was always smooth as silk and

tallest of his brothers,

like his head shot up towards the sky until they gave him a name–

…er,rah, george is what they calt him, ‘ventually,

always meant to put it on his papers but

life gets away from you when you’re havin' babies at umpteen years old and

onliest thing you can do to keep them is –shh!--maybe be a madam or–shh! running numbers for the gamblers…

-taking bets on life by loving in a time where the only love you could give was kept by the love only you created and, now,

here were are, many generations down the road from where

baby boy evans came into his own…

-hear his neighbors tell it,

Big George was always the hero,

married their older sister and

–none of Big George’s kids ever went nameless…

Or homeless or hungry cause Big George was the kinda man who lived 

to honor his name,

and i hope i do the same—

…maybe i won’t measure up to the standards he set,

But I will always try because

that’s how he raised me,

to find a way to make my portion better like

Big George did,

To always strive to improve everything I could…

Even if all I’m given is dust and grass, 

make that dust and grass look good and intentional,

Take pride in all you do

-even if the only life I’m given is a succulent,

remember that all things take care–

even you.





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