POEM - Burnt Toast and Feminism

The way Grandma Steadman tells it is hilarious

She seemed like such a sweet old lady

Just out doing good

Being kind

All along always aware

Of an opportunity to be obnoxious

The framework was simple

She and Grandpa were driving to Salt Lake

With a small group of California teens

On a church trip

To a big conference

It was the late 60s and things were changing

People started to have causes

Trying to find their unique voice

Or uniting for the greater good

Most of these kids were easy going

They were young and happy

On a road trip

Almost by themselves

And they lived in Cali

What was there to be upset about?

But the new culture had been embraced

By at least one girl in the group

She liked the feeling of standing up

Making your voice heard

Supporting the underdogs

Fighting the good fight

And my grandmother knew it

Was probably waiting the whole trip

Just to poke that bear

So the group stopped for breakfast

In the age before drive-thru

They headed into the diner

Took their place at a big table

Placed their orders

Chatted the time away

When breakfast came my grandpa’s toast was burned

So he reached over

Took my grandmother’s toast

And gave her his burnt ones

That girl saw it and nearly screamed

“Why did you let him do that?”

            “Do what, dear?”

“Give you the burnt toast!”

            “Well, he’s is the man, and I do what I’m told.”

What’s funny is that she never explained

Didn’t tell her she liked the burnt pieces

Didn’t let her in on the joke

Never broke character

Never tried to sooth the beast

Went on about her business

            Enjoying the delicious burnt toast