Like a Man Gone Mad: Poems in a New Century

“Are You Sam Hazo’s Grandfather?”

59 “Are You Sam Hazo’s Grandfather?” Including my late father, we are four plus a far distant cousin we’ve never met who have the same first and last name. At times it’s understandably confusing. My wife will call one Sam, then hear a trio of answers. Choosing the French and Spanish way of asking not your name but how you’re called, we’re nicknamed Sam, Sam-Sam and Sam A. Apart from first and last names in common, we’re not at all alike. Grandfather, father and grandson qualify as wordsmith, maker of music for symphonic winds, and a pupil with yet unknown potential. Sometimes we seem like runners in a relay passing off our name like a baton from life to life. Since I’m the eldest, I can think in generations but still feel pushed like someone ranked in a succession. It leaves me living in a time that’s never ever time enough. Imagine a clock with no hands but ticking flawlessly with utter 60 disregard for twelve irrelevant numbers. Each tick’s a heartbeat long. That kind of time . . . ...