Maybe it was evolutions reward.
My grandparents migrated before the worst.
At the dawn of the 20th century,
Long before Hitler invaded Poland,
With clever fingers that might
Help a tailor in the New World
He and Rose moved to America,
To never leave Brooklyn.
It was a far more dramatic move than
Jacob’s grandson moved to Hawaii
And a very different future.
He, the grandson, was escaping from New York
That reinforced his need for speed.
He could shoot dice before the city,
Family and a job sealed his future.
He landed 1 AM on February 2, 1965.
Honolulu Airport was quiet, the night sky
Filled with starlight and warm, a welcome feeling.
He drank from a water fountain that offered pineapple juice,
His pace for the next 15 years was slower, much slower.
He thought of his grandfather and how
Jacob’s trip made Hawaii possible.
Here was time for children, a dog, and adventure.
A time to reorder his life’s arc.
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