Benito, my Grandma Connie
would have loved you.
She would have chatted
with you in Vega Baja
as you bagged her groceries
at the Econo in your youth.
She would have leaned in
to you and said:
You know, 'Benito' is it?
I think you are a lovely
and earnest man.
May I share something with you?
I feel you're going places.
I have a gift for sensing these things.
I'll be watching for you!
And when you
made the mainland press
she would have diligently clipped
your fotos and articles
from the pages of Vanity Fair
and the Up-And-Coming Artists!
columns in the Times and the Post
and the Journal and the Star.
She would have mailed them to me
enclosed in her signature
blue sky stationery
with an American Flag stamp.
And she would have scrawled
in wide cursive
rendered in Bic pen:
Di, you need to listen to
this young man's art.
He is impressive!
Look at the light in his eyes.
Love, Grandma Connie
She would have reminded me
that she came
from modest beginnings
growing up off 8 Mile in Detroit.
She would have written me
that all Americans are bound
by our upbringing and passion.
She would have asserted
your kinship with her
that you and she
are ever-connected, as are we all.
And Benito, she would have
championed you from afar.
She would have
looked up your lyrics
and their translations
and then cried
with the beauty and pain
of understanding.
She always carried her heart
on her sleeve, like you.
She would have hailed
your music catalogue
as a modern magnum opus.
She would have held you up
as a secular saint
of sound and self-worth.
She would have defended you
in circles of society
where curiosity
lagged behind fear.
She would have driven her
souped-up V8 station wagon
named Bunny--What a sign, Di!
that she zoomed through
the dessert while she
played your albums
on her dash at max volume
under open skies.
She would have
called me this morning,
first to report the time and weather,
and then she would have said:
Di, honey, don't forget to watch
'Bad Bunny' at Half Time!
And then she wouldn't
be able to help herself,
and she'd have to crow:
You know, Di,
Benito and I
we go way back.
She would have melted
into weepy emotive tears
as she shared with me yet again,
for maybe the dozenth time
what you stand for:
Empathy, Purpose, Community
Pride in home, Love for all.
She would have added:
He's such a dear!
What a message he brings.
So earnest!
Oh Diana, he gives me hope.
Benito,
my Grandma
would have loved you.
