poem “Pickle History was No Matter”, a poem written on and for National pickle Day, about the love of making pickles and how the Dutch pickled cucumbers after they were first imported from India 4,000 years ago, but grandma would make them and the kids would love them and we think of something so simple as so wonderful, and as a great bonding element in family, By Chicago Poet Janet Kuypers

[the Writing of Kuypers] [JanetKuypers.com] [Bio] [Poems] [Prose]

See the YouTube video of Janet Kuypers reading her poems “Judged on Looks” (written 11/10, on and for Sadie Hawkins Day), “Pickle History was No Matter”” (written 11/14, on and for National Pickle Day), “Just so Others can Feel” (written in November during National Novel Writing Month), and “Know Peace and Rise to Power” (written 11/19, on and for the birthday of Indira Gandhi, 1917) from the Janet Kuypers poetry book “Every Event of the Year (Volume Two: July-December)” live 11/4/20 in honor of “Community Poetry” (this video was filmed from a Panasonic Lumix 2500 camera; posted on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Instagram, and Tumblr).

See a Facebook live video stream of Janet Kuypers reading her poems “Judged on Looks”, “Pickle History was No Matter”, “Just so Others can Feel”, and “Know Peace and Rise to Power” from the Janet Kuypers poetry book “Every Event of the Year (Volume Two: July-December)” live 11/4/20 in honor of “Community Poetry” (from a Samsung S9 camera).

Pickle History was
No Matter
Janet Kuypers
11/14/19, on & for
National Pickle Day
Pickles take their name
from the Dutch word for ‘brine’
figuring out what to do with cucumbers
after they were first imported from India
My grandmother, bless her heart,
died months before I was born
but pickle history was no matter to her
when she liked making pickles annually
All I can say, from my older sister’s stories,
is how the kids loved to visit grandma
to have this insanely delicious food...
my mother took over the tradition,
with open ceramic pickling jars filled
with cucumbers and spices, topped
with a plate under a weight
to hold down this new treat
I think after only one day would us kids
start eating the barely-flavored pickles,
but we didn’t care
we didn’t care the history, that
these came from my ancestors
we didn’t care that this was
a recipe my grandma would use
well, maybe we cared a little
but what we really cared about
was how delicious these tasted
and how something so simple could make
us feel so good, and bring us all together

my hand to an anim of jkchair