Johanna Shapiro, PhD
My grandfather was born
in Rumania
He came to this country
at the age of two
because his father got himself
involved on the wrong end of
a failed revolution
to oust a despot king
When my grandfather died
he was only thirty-eight
He had a heart attack
at his office, walked home
had another heart attack
and died leaving a wife
who idolized him
for the next fifty years
and four brilliant, bewildered
children striving to meet
his prodigious expectations,
their only inheritance
My grandfather was a gambler
who bet on horses,
football, card games, raindrops
running down a window-pane
He wrote vaudeville jokes
for Jewish comedians
and bet he would become
an American success story
Grandfather almost won
that bet. But in death,
there are no more jokes.