When I was five, he was a giant, much larger than any man I knew

He would take me for rides on his bulldozer—that was big too

Everywhere we went he was calm, confident and keen

With huge dams, big pipes or some massive machine

He was powerfully strong, but gentle, not gruff

Big problems or small, he could handle the stuff

An angry bull through the fence or a neighbor in need

Or even getting back at my mom with a watermelon seed

He had a great intellect that he didn’t wear on his sleeve

If his ego was large, it was impossible to perceive

The impact of his life on his family and friends

Is of a size I am unable to convey in the end

……..Me, I’m riding in an old pickup truck—a 1940s International Harvester rig

I’m riding with my uncle Blaine who was bigger than big.

Wynter Blaine Sturtevant 1922-2013