"We Call Him Papa" video from the Sedona Poetry Slam

We Call Him Papa
for Frank Leslie "Buster" Redfield
May 14, 1925 - Oct. 31, 2004

we call him Papa
and he could move mountains with his silence

he fathered a family of artists
who knew the value of labor
the efficiency of expression
if it is unclear, rephrase it
if it is unusable, remove it
if it is imperfect, rework it
until it is as much a part of you
as a limb
he never said this
but his life implied it

his stone eyes
edited lies from our speech
before we could speak them
his hands held me tight once
after I sinned
they held me soft
when my father translated himself
into a mythology
I've since ceased believing in
his hands were the tools
with which he spoke through his silence

he carved and crafted rifles
like Stradivarius made violins
and the first recoil
was a symphony
compressed to a split second
he brought wood to life
as though generations of forests grew
to make the right grain
the right feel worthy of his talent

he did not build airplanes,
he built aircraft with the precision of a heart surgeon
knowing a loose screw, one misaligned wire
could transform a craft of beauty
into a coffin
and wife like his into a widow
he made no widows
except one

he crafted art that soared like mechanical angels
and made us feel
how he must have felt with Grandma

even in his absence he scares me
because he was so much more
of what a man should be
than the men I see around me
than the man who fathered me

he was sometimes the machine moving me
he was sometimes the monster under my bed
keeping me from going gently into the night
without fighting the darkness
he was sometimes a giant
stretching hands from horizon to horizon
holding down the sun and moon
and dictating their rising

I am convinced that eastern Montana
is so perfectly flat
in awe of him

we call him Papa
and he could move mountains with his silence

I never heard him say he loved her
not in words
not in a way I could steal
not in a way that the cheap poet in me
could have plagiarized into a stanza
for some mediocre poem unworthy of his memory

I never heard him say he loved her with words

he said it with his eyes

he said it in the stories my mother would tell me
about how he would raise armies and wage wars
just to bring her flowers

he said it with the way he told me
about driving across New York and Pennsylvania every weekend
just to see her for two hours between college classes and curfews

he said he loved her by playing "waltzing matilda" on a harmonica
like he was asking her to dance for the first time,
even after all these years

he said he loved her
by showing us how good man
should love a woman right

we call him Papa
and he could move mountains with his silence

he is the poet
me, his eldest grandson,
I am just his microphone

Sarrah is gone ...

Sarrah at Johnnie's Cafe, 433 1st Ave. S., Glasgow, Mont. Sarrah and I had gone to Fort Peck Dam, a massive which is the largest hydraulically filled dam in the United States.
Authorized by President Franklin D. Roosevelt in 1933, construction of Fort Peck Dam employed over 11,000 workers at its peak in 1939, one of whom was my great-grandfather.
The dam, named for a 19th-century trading post, was completed in 1940, and began generating electricity in July 1943. The dam created Fort Peck Lake, the fifth largest lake in the U.S.
Sarrah and I also have an unnatural obsession with dinosaurs. Just down the way from the dam power stations is a dinosaur museum, which we spent hours in. The tour of the dam power stations only happened because a tour guide asked if we wanted to see it.
On our way back to Opheim, we stopped at Johnnie's.

This is definitely my favorite photograph of Sarrah. I have an 8x10 print of it up in my room. After two weeks in Montana, we were on our last, long drive home. The drive from Livingston, Mont., through Idaho and into southern Utah we talked a lot about us and our friendship. We had a great time on the drive. We also listened to a biography of Abraham Lincoln on tape.
As we got into southern Utah, I made a detour into a national park, thinking we could cut through and head south to Page, Ariz., rather than drive through Colorado City, Ariz., and the Mormon fundamentalist cult area, but there was a fee at the gate, so we had to turn back. We stopped to shoot the sunset and I shot this of Sarrah. She looks elated.

Sarrah Countdown #14

Sarrah on my uncle's mountain.

We found these horses in a pen just north of Livingston, Mont.

On the shore of Yellowstone Lake, Sarrah collected stones to write "I love you" for a photo for her boyfriend in Arizona, Dylan Jung. She later used the photo in a shadowbox for him.

Sarrah shooting the countryside from my grandmother's barn.

Sarrah's mobile office.

Sarrah in a wheat field on my aunt and uncle's ranch in Paradise Valley. The land they own includes the mountains in the background.

Sarrah Countdown #13

Along our hike on day two, we headed back to the ranch and had to hop a few fences.

At a kid's basketball court in Helena, Mont.

Perfect height.

In my grandmother's barn in Opheim, Mont.
Sarrah caught in the light streaming in the open window.

At my aunt and uncle's ranch in Paradise Valley, Sarrah and I stayed in their bed & breakfast cabin. It had a three-bed bedroom, a small sitting/dining room and a bathroom. Great with no microwave, tv, etc. Just a hotplate and a coffeemaker.

Sarrah Countdown #12

Roosevelt Arch, the main entrance to Yellowstone National Park. It used to be the only entrance to the park, and lies on the Montana side of the border. It's eight miles from my aunt and uncle's ranch in Paradise Valley.

Just inside the park, still in Montana before we reached Mammoth Hot Springs.

Sarrah was leaning over the edge of this cliff to snap a few photos. The wind was fierce, maybe 30-40 mph.

At Mammoth Hot Springs on the north side of Yellowstone National Park.

Sarrah really wanted to see this buffalo up close, so she wandered out to see it. Then it charged the truck. It really just wanted to cross the road and ran right in front of us to the other side.

On the shore of Yellowstone Lake, Sarrah put sunscreen on me. I was already burned by this point.

Sarrah Countdown #11

Sarrah had a thing for climbing silos and grain elevators while in Montana. This was a small silo next to my late grandfather's airplane hanger.

In this part of eastern Montana, it's so perfectly flat that she could likely see 50 miles from this high up.

Sarrah had to jump up and climb the side of the building first, just to get this high. She looks really cute in this photo.

Then she proceeded to climb the ladder, despite my protests. The one cop in Opheim was actually on duty because the Opheim High School was holding a reunion and we were heading into town to the picnic. The entire town plus a few hundred alumni were driving in to. Then I realized that in a town with population 99 - seriously - there isn't much to do, and probably every kid in town ever has climbed this thing.

And Sarrah reached the top, from which she could see the entire town and Canada, 10 miles to the north.

Sarrah Countdown #10

As she made her first steps into Montana, Sarrah and I got out of the truck, wandered into the median and shot photos of each other.

One of the best parts of the trip was spending a full day inside Yellowstone National Park. Buffalo were scattered across this valley.

Sarrah sitting with me on the steps of the Field Museum of Natural History in Chicago, shortly after seeing Sue, the most complete and second-largest Tyrannosaurus Rex fossil ever found.

On the Southwest Chief Amtrak train somewhere between Chicago and Flagstaff.

At lunch on the Southwest Chief Amtrak train somewhere between Chicago and Flagstaff.

Sarrah Countdown #8

Sarrah t the Opheim High School reunion barbecue in the town's park.

The night before we left, we sat with aunt Laurie and uncle Alan, my twin cousins Katie and Jody and the ranch's resident pets.

In the back of pickup truck after the Redneck Fourth of July (the trap shoot), Sarrah looked great in the sunlight and wind.

My grandmother's farm includes a scrapyard of old, leftover farming equipment. A lot of it made for great photos.

I taught Sarrah how to drive stick.

The second day at my aunt Laurie and uncle Alan's ranch in Paradise Valley, Sarrah and I wandered the ranch shooting photos of everything. Alan gave us a tutorial of the local fauna too, which I found fascinating.

The first day at my aunt Laurie and uncle Alan's ranch in Paradise Valley, Sarrah went to meet my aunt's colts.

There's a character that an artist I follow on deviantART does called Pepper, who reminds me of the photo of Sarrah.

Sarrah Countdown #7

Sarrah meets my uncle Myron Redfield at the Opheim High School reunion barbecue in the town's park.

Sarrah square-dancing with my uncle Myron Redfield at the Opheim High School reunion street party.

My cousin Logan Redfield and Sarrah Wile giving me the redneck salute on mountain outside Helena, Mont.

Sarrah and Logan at a barn dance in Livingston, Mont., on the Fourth of July. Maybe it's genetic pride in my bloodline, but we Redfields are damn good looking. If this was just a random photo of two strangers, you'd likely say, "that's a beautiful-looking couple.

Sarrah Countdown #6

We wanted wandered into an abandoned elementary school in a defunct U.S. Air Force base that is now a ghost town. This way the gym.

On our first day at my uncle's ranch in Paradise Valley, we played in the hay shed.

Driving long hauls is a must in Montana, the fourth-largest state in the United States. Sarrah passed the time by making money.

Sarrah was trying to find a way to shoot an open window in my grandmother's barn south of Opheim, Montana.

This is my favorite photograph of Sarrah. She is the same height and build as my grandmother was at this age. It's almost like looking back through time to see my grandmother in 20s, with five (not yet seven) kids in tow. Danielle Gervasio considers this photo to be reminiscent of a Johannes Vermeer painting.