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Mixed Blessingby Jan D. HodgeThe fruits of modern science speakto all our hopes and fears. Cassandra bore a child last week— and she’s seen eighty years! Her kids and grandkids came to meet their sis—or aunt—Marie, this precious, unexpected, sweet gift to the family. Proud mama met them with a smile, of course, but did allow as how they’d have to wait awhile, “because she’s sleeping now.” They sat and chatted over tea till it was nearly noon, then asked again to see Marie. “Not yet, but pretty soon.” Another hour crawled by, then two. "Oh dear, I apologize," said mama nervously, "but you must wait until she cries." Looking at her, they wondered, "Why?" "Because"—the trace of a frown appeared on mama's forehead—"I . . . forgot where I put her down."
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Jan D. Hodge grew up in a letterpress print shop in small town Michigan, was educated at the Universities of Michigan (B.A., M.A.) and New Mexico (Ph.D.; dissertation on Dickens), and taught for 32 years at colleges in Illinois and Iowa before retiring. His poems have appeared in North American Review, New Orleans Review, Iambs & Trochees, South Coast Poetry Journal, Western Wind, and elsewhere.