A Prairie Home Companion from American Public Media: First Person

Enlightenment at the Kitchen Sink
by Kirsten Knecht
February 21, 2007

A harsh and strict man, or so he seemed to many
Capable of great warmth and tenderness
Made formidable by the withholding of it

All she ever wanted was a word or two of praise
Unconditional

And all she ever got was what's the minus for
A towel-snap on the ankles in a cold stone-tile floor hall
The abrupt early end to the sleepover party
Rise and Shine!
Oh, the humiliation

But now?..
He says I've been such a goof!
A bitter self-reproach
regret

By long distance telephone
Connected
She cries
Doing dishes
I've been given such a gift

The Four Sufferings of Birth, Death, Sickness and Old Age
I tell her
The essence of Buddhism
Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em

I must be the most enlightened of them all
She says making a joke but still
Intrigued
She has attended to each one
Enlightenment at the kitchen sink

A weight lifts from our lives
What was meant to happen all along
Harmony from sorrow, all forgotten and forgave
Time to pass the legacy

The lineage of the storytellers
Something about the mouth, or is it the nose
Or just the freckles on the hands
Gesturing

Now I can begin to tell the story
Doubt, hesitation, frustration
Do I have the right equipment?
Will I get to it in time?

I do, I will
I promise
I'm listening.

About the author:
I am a 40-year old transplanted Midwesterner of Danish carpenter stock. This poem was written as a gift to my mother on Mother's Day 2003. It describes an emotional event that transformed her life-long struggle in her relationship with her father, which was brought about by her having to care for him after the death of my grandmother. It is also my promise to her that I will carry on the love of language and storytelling that is such an important part of my inheritance from the two of these remarkable people.