Mourning Michael Landon
When I was in high school, my friend’s mother
was obsessed with the actor Michael Landon. From
the Little House on the Prairie to the Highway to Heaven
she couldn’t get enough of Michael Landon or stop
praising the easy perfection of Michael Landon’s hair.
On Wednesday nights, my friend went to my house,
seeing no one could speak or breathe in the room
when Michael Landon was on the television.
A few years after Highway to Heaven was canceled,
Michael Landon passed away from pancreatic cancer,
and my friend’s mother would not leave her bedroom
for a week, soft sobs leaking behind the closed door.
When she finally appeared in the kitchen one afternoon,
her cheeks were streaked with tears of uncut grief
as she clutched a wadded ball of soggy tissues.
“Oh poor Michael,” she wept. “Oh poor Michael.”
Most nights, my friend’s dad drank Scotch and played pool
at the VFW with his brother who had cerebral palsy
and struggled to hold the cue while chain-smoking.
His father came home early one night, bleary-eyed,
and we asked him for his thoughts about Michael Landon
or his wife’s grief. He rubbed his stubble and poured a drink.
“I can’t say I care, but the fucker had nice hair,” he said.
Nathan Graziano lives with his wife in Manchester, New Hampshire. He is the author of ten books of poetry and fiction, and a columnist for Manchester Ink Link. His most recent short story collection, A Better Loser, is available from Roadside Press. For more information, visit his website: www.nathangraziano.com.
