I'm Major Jackson and this is the slowdown.

And this is the slowdown. down.

My grandfather died nearly 20 years ago. My grandfather died nearly 20 years ago.

I still think of him.

Each family member felt a deep closeness to him

because of his open kindness.

He was generous. Depression error poverty shaped him. Though he loved to

gab, he was a good listener too. As each relative took the podium at his funeral, a common theme

emerged that surprised us. He made each of us feel as though we were his preferred grandchild.

One cousin told how he would slip money into his hands and say,

don't tell the others.

He had a standing monthly lunch date with another cousin.

He said, don't tell the others.

He and I attended concerts in Fairmount Park.

He said, Don't tell the others.

In his way, he gave us the gift of feeling special and cherished by him.

Today's poem finds a capacious way of existing that honors an entire life and everyone in it.

Picking favorites by George Franklin.

We're not supposed to pick favorites, whether it's a favorite child, favorite pet, noun deceased,

or a favorite time when you went to bed early and the radio played all the right music.

You're not supposed to think this way.

How will all the other nights seem if you do?

...