WHAT CHRISTMAS MEANS TO ME

WHAT CHRISTMAS MEANS TO ME


As a Christian, I quietly reflect on what Christmas means to me. I am reminded of a gift from Jesus....my own life.

It is the love He gave to each of us that we must share with one another. It's not about presents and alcohol and parties and time off work. It's quietly helping a neighbour or listening to a friend; laughing and playing with a child or loving a dependent animal.

If we have an opportunity to give and extend a willing hand to someone less fortunate than we, then that is doing what Jesus would want us to do. No-one needs to know who we choose to help out with food, money or just a hug.

He expects us to have each other's back, to not be a malicious spreader of gossip, to preserve and protect our own extended families and to love them unconditionally.

Christmas has the word "Christ" in it for a reason. For those of us who believe in Him, it is a special honour and priviledge to celebrate His birthday.

Happy Birthday, Jesus; oh Holy night.

BETTY-LOU

I wrote this when I really knew she was dying; she loved it!


BETTY LOU


Her coat was red, her hat was too
Under hair so snowy white
Her lips were painted red as well
Her eyes, oh so bright.

We met in church one winter Sunday
And I knew right away
That I liked this classy lady
Who, too, had lived away.

Many visits and trips to the city
We became close friends
Playing cribbage & telling jokes
Recalling our childhood sins.

We'd been daughters & we'd been wives
Each had a girl and a boy
We both loved our horses
We bring each other joy.

We see each other rarely now
Do our talking on the phone
Always worrying about the other
Since we both live all alone.

Her health has given us a scare
But now the worst is past
Soon she'll paint her lips bright red
And move not slow but fast.

A stranger once, forever my friend
There's none other like you
What a blessing you have been
My chum, my pal....my Betty Lou!


We lost her in Nov. 2010. R.I.P., my friend, until we meet again.

Number 19

NUMBER 19


It was the 19th Remembrance Day dinner she had attended with-out him. She ran a comb through her white hair and smeared a bit of red lipstick across her thin lips. The black wool coat would do & she pinned the new, red poppy on her lapel.

Soon her tall son and his lovely wife would arrive to pick her up for the short drive to the hall. They both thought she shouldn't drive anymore though she still had a drivers license and a car. Sometimes she was tempted to just get in it and drive but wasn't sure she actually could find her way back home.

There were times she couldn't remember much; other times, she could recall when her late husband proposed to her, what she'd said, how she lived, loved and laughed. Now there were many times she wished she had no memory at all.

She looked up at the clock, saw she had dressed too early and sat down in a kitchen chair to wait for her son. She glanced across the table to visulize her late husband's face. He would be smiling with his twinkling blue eyes, sipping a beer or his hot tea and asking "Want to eat in tonight or go out, Mum?"

He had always called her Mum since she had their first and only child. She didn't mind; in fact, she loved it! This grey morning, she smiled to herself, remembering.

When he came back from the war, he never once spoke of it or the many awards bestowed upon him. And just before he died at the age of 65, he reminded her of his wish to have the Maple Leaf flag draped over his casket.

Her son arrived and helped her into the back seat of his car where she buckled up her seatbelt and greeted her daughter-in-law. She felt like a widow all over again; these dinners were lovely but took their toll.

The car was parked, her coat hung up, she bowed her head with the others while a Minister asked God's blessing on their food. And she began to cry....

People around her heard yet she was unashamed. They were tears for not only her late husband but for herself and all the war widows.

On the drive home, her son asked how she liked her dinner and if she'd enjoyed herself? Her silence spoke volumns and he turned up the radio. His wife turned around to pat her mother-in-law on the knee, a gesture of great comfort to her.

She waved good-bye as she unlocked the door, removed her heavy coat and unpinned the poppy. She saw all the other 18 in the drawer and felt fresh tears falling. How many more would there be? How many more would she have to endure with-out him by her side?

She sat in the dark and recalled her soldier boy.......oh, so handsome and fine in his uniform and cap. He wanted to be buried in it but of course, it was much too small. He gave up his youth for freedom and both of his legs for his country, Canada.

She added the poppy to the drawer......number 19.

REMEMBRANCE DAY

REMEMBRANCE DAY

It's Remembrance Day in Canada
A day off work to remember
To appreciate our freedom
A proud day in November;
We wear our red poppies
And say a silent prayer
For world peace someday
And freedom everywhere.

Some attend church services
Cemeteries, for the rest
Then there's some of us
Who feel that it is Just.....
To celebrate in silence
And quietly remember
Remembrance Day is everyday
For soldiers in November.

DADDY

DADDY

She said "Daddy, where's your arm?
Did you lose it in the war?"
He answered as he always did
"Please just close the door."

He'd only been home a week
And could not face the fact
That his fighting days were over
He wouldn't be going back.

The phone rang several times
He said it was too soon
To speak to anyone just yet
"Maybe this afternoon."

She said "Daddy, but it's Mommy
Calling from Iraq"
He answered as he always did:
"Tell her to stay safe & hurry back."

THE RR DAUGHTER

THE RR DAUGHTER

Well, I was born a rail roader's daughter
Like Loretta, we went to the well for water
We were poor but we were proud
And daddy always said aloud:
"Remember who you are inside
And don't forget for you He died."

Well, daddy rode those railway tracks
And every time that he came back
I prayed that he would never die
And just the thought made me cry;
And then I grew up one day
And a phone call took my breath away.

Years went by as I heard the trains
And still I felt the same old pains
Stuart or Mack beside my dad
The old trolley made me feel so sad;
I tuck his RR cap into my pocket
And kiss his picture inside my locket.

His voice I often hear these days
Tho he & the train are just a haze
For I know he's just like the track
And neither one are coming back....
"Remember who you are inside
And don't forget for you He died."

In loving memory of my dad who died Oct. 29th, 1996.

SHE STOPPED LOVING YOU TODAY

SHE STOPPED LOVING YOU TODAY


She said "I'll miss you til I die
Time alone won't make me stop
And as the years go slowly by
They don't sell that big a mop
To dry my eyes when you're gone
To ever stop the pain
Loving and now losing you
The sting of death remain's."

She kept his photos all lined up
And when each day was done
She thanked God for giving her
A daughter and a son;
All the letters he had kept
She read aloud again
And saw the red "I LOVE YOU'S"
He'd underlined with pen.

She went to see him that last day
But no-one saw her cry
For yesterday was dead and gone
And her eyes stayed very dry;
But when she knelt by his grave
And realized he was dead
She wanted to join him there
But came back home instead.

She stopped loving you today
Because it's killing her
To look at all the photos
From nineteen sixty four;
Since you chose the bottle
Her life ain't been the same
The only thing you did for her
Was to change her name.

She stopped loving you today.........

I SLEPT WITH YOUR PICTURE

I SLEPT WITH YOUR PICTURE

Some may think I'm crazy
Well, maybe I am
But I slept with your picture
From our old album;
I held you in my arms
Close to my breast
And only the moonlight
Saw all the rest.

I awoke with your picture
Staring at me
And I cried to myself
For what cannot be;
For pictures don't speak
Nor hold me tight
And whisper sweet nothings
Long into the night.

I slept with your picture
And tho it felt sad
I loved every minute
And now I am glad;
For pictures don't lie
And your eyes said aloud
That you still love me
And that you are proud.

I go to your grave
And I sit all alone
Wishing you'd talk back
Or walk me back home;
Where I take out your picture
And hold you so tight
I'll sleep with your picture
Again, dear, tonight.

LEMON TART

LEMON TART


Standing alone in the distance
Stealing a piece of one's heart
Spacious, safe and welcoming
All who enter 'Lemon Tart.'

Surrounded by a jungle forest
A swimming pool set apart
Trampoline and a tree house
Help dress up ' Lemon Tart.'

A hot-tub for four is inviting
A hammock for two hangs apart
Acres of grass to play and explore
Every sweet piece of 'Lemon Tart.'

It welcomes, protects and secures
And sometimes even a bark
Can be heard from Chester and Chelsie
Who live and love in 'Lemon Tart.'

WHY ME?

WHY ME?

I see them everywhere
Old ladies all alone
Some at church on Sunday
Some on the telephone;
I see ladies with ladies
As they bowl or shop
Sometimes at a dance
Line dancing 'til they drop.

Widows and divorcee's
Living by themselves
Spending Christmas solo
With Santa and his elves;
Awaking alone on birthdays
No-one to share their cake
Baking for just one now
While praying for a date.

Soon the months turn into years
And a decade has passed
These ladies give up hope
As the ages fly by fast;
They look into the mirror
Still liking who they see
But wondering where the men are
As they ask the glass "Why me?"

WAR

WAR

The war seems to last forever
They fly the dead back home
Where people just ignore it
Go about their norm.....
The News barely mentions it
While Arlington overflows
Soldier after soldier
God only knows!

They bury their one and only son
Beneath red, white and blue
While taps play mournfully
Honouring what's due.......
Folks all gather round
Until the sun goes down
The war in Iraq continues
It's not just another 'noun'........

GAME OVER

GAME OVER

Playing head games
Not my cup of tea
Don't say you'll call me back
At quarter to three.....
Then you call at midnight
Awakening me
Selfish and controlling
Give me back my key!

RESTLESS

RESTLESS

The male nurse walks by slowly
Another dirty look
I make believe I'm reading
A new library book;
He stops to watch me take the pill
I pretend to swallow
Another night of insomnia
But the dawn will follow.

BETWEEN DREAMS

BETWEEN DREAMS

Between dreams she realizes
What she's known forever
All good men are taken
They're just like the weather;
Here today, gone tomorrow
Like the rain and snow
Forever is just a word
That only lovers know......

THE LADY

THE LADY

She paints her nails a bright red
Her lips get painted pink
She puts on her favourite dress
Expecting him to wink;
But he shows up with another
And as the dance begins
She watches the two lovers
As reality sinks in.

The music seems to last forever
As she sits them out
If she can't have the one she wants
She'll just do with-out;
She walks on home at midnight
And hangs her dress back up
Wipes the paint off her mouth
To drink from her favourite cup.

Wine puts her right to sleep
And she dreams she's young again
Waltzing all across the floor
There's no aches or pains;
He walks her home and kisses her
She asks him to come inside
And when the dream has ended
She lays there and she cries.

FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE

FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE

A deck of cards in his hand
He plays solitare
A pair of scissors in her hand
She tries to trim his hair;
He takes a walk 'round the block
She watches where he goes
Sometimes he forgets the way
As he removes his clothes.

It's been a year now he's been sick
He doesn't seem to know
That he's changed in every way
She listens as she sews;
"Martha, where's my horse at?"
She replies "He died."
"Oh" is all he has to say
And they both sit and cry.

THE VISIT

THE VISIT

You didn't get my letter, Mum, that told you I was coming home?
Just as well because I never know if I'll be coming home alone;
He stayed there and I have got just a few hours to visit you & Dad
I wish that things were different but I guess that you can see it's bad.

You're asking me what happened to my eye and I can't really say
You know I'm not a liar and so let's just make believe & let it lay;
He's a good man when he's sober and yes I know he runs around
But daddy did and most men do, so don't go putting my man down.

I heard that Grampa's funeral was packed and he left you everything
That's good because you needed help and you can always sell his ring;
I bought it in Mexico when my band's song finally made it to the top ten
Times were good and I bet that someday soon they'll be that way again.

Yeah, I know I ain't getting any younger, Mum so just stop saying so
I've made mistakes and so have you and soon it'll be time to go;
I wrote a song for you and daddy and it will be featured on our new CD
I know that you like a hymn and this one is simply called "The Key."

No, I've not been to church since I was home & you dragged me there
Kicking and a screaming with you cussing & pulling on my hair;
I'm a married woman now and just because you see my eyes are bruised
Don't think I'm unhappy but Mum, I've just got nothing left to lose.

Tell daddy that I missed him but I just need to catch a train from here to there
I promised that I'd hurry back in time to pick him up some wine & beer;
Now don't go cryin' and making a scene when my limo pulls up outside
I'll always be your baby but sometimes a lady has to choose a side.

SOUTHERN DRAWL

As some of you may remember, I moved back home to NS in 2003 after living near and working in Atlanta, Ga. for 35 years. I've tried very hard to get rid of the slight southern accent I inevitably picked up and believe it's 95% gone. I hope so!

But while reading aloud recently, it was brought to my attention and horror that I still have some southern words in my vocabulary. It started me thinking and remembering how people really do speak there, especially the older folk who travel little and refuse to change with the times.

My next door neighbor was an older, white lady who chewed tobacco. I hated to watch her spit into her can but was fasinated at the dark colour of the juice.

"Wassa matter; you ain't seen a woman chewin' tabacca for? Ya wanna try some? Good fer ya'! Keeps the lungs cleared out." And she'd laugh and spit and laugh and spit.

Another neignbor was a black family who hated my dog or any dog, period.

"Your dog done peed on my petunias! And that dog livin' 'crost the street did his bizness in our tomata patch. If I wanted to live around dogs I'd a moved to the country...."

I once had a neighbor who was a police officer and the stories he told, in his thick southern drawl, were just like an old time Sherrif from Mayberry RFD.

"Ah hadda stop a fight last night near the ha school and I'm tellin' ya, it wadn't purdy. This girl about tore the har off another girl who she said had slept with her bofriend. Ain't seen nuthin' like it, the cussin' & carryin' on they did. Ah reckon they're just hillbillies or rednecks!"

When I'd go to buy a few groceries at the local PIGGLY WIGGLY store, there would be men sitting around outside playing checkers and smoking and talking.

"Yo turn, Jeb. The sun's gonna set afore you make up yer old mind."

"Hush; ah'm fixin' ta play...."

When I'd come out a half hour later, I'd hear:

"Jeb, whatcha waitin' fer, Santie Claus??"

I used to enjoy driving out into the N Ga Mountains where I'd stop at the roadside stands to buy some peanuts salted in the shell or some homemade honey or mustard greens, okra, black eyes peas, watermelon, etc.

"Is that all? Doncha want some pickled pigs feet? How's bout some grits or some snake oil? Ya don't eat chitlins? Don't know what's good for ya', honey child."

"Here, darlin'. Take a few bites of ma peanut-brittle; it'll cure what ails ya', sho 'nuff!"

Sometimes I'd go downtown Atlanta to eat at The Varsity, a great place to eat inside or in your car. Nipsey Russel, the black comedian, got his start while working there; was discovered, so to speak.

"Whatcha havin', darlin'?" I would hesitate too long and they'd quickly move on to the next person in the long line of hungry people. The terms were strange to me at first but after a few visits, I got the hang of it. Kind of like my first Tim Horten's trip where I asked for things in my coffee like 3 Tlbs cream, please and 1 tsp of sugar......

"I'll have a yella dog, a chili steak with rings and a PC please, Sir."

"Comin right up, Mam?" And I'd love every bite of my hotdog with mustard, my hamburger with chili sauce, huge, greasy, hot onion rings and chocolate milk over crushed ice. I never did figure out why they called it a PC.

Church was always fasinating. The congregations were huge and the faces both black and white.

"Nice to see you out this marning, mam. That hat sho is purdy! This your young-un? Looks just like her mama! Sho 'nuff! sho 'nuff!"

I'd sometimes need a translater at work as I just did not understand a word some southerners spoke when I was a new employee. I was an Insurance Adjuster who dealt with the public, primarily via telephone.

"You say you've had an automobile accident, My Anderson? Can you tell me what happened, Sir?"

"Well, me and the missus, we's goin' to the State Fair in 'Lanna? when this big ol' truck done slammed inta us & spuns us round & round til my head hit the roof and bout knocked me into her? and so's I tole that PO-lice man that he musta been dranking cuz we's not doin over 35 & he jes came outa the sky and now my back hurts so bad I cain't even bend over to pick cotton......."

"I'm sorry to hear that but I'll need to review the police report. Is your wife able to speak with me, Sir?"

"Yessum! Martha, git over here! This woman's with the insurance company so jest tell her how your head hurts so bad you cain't go over yonder to Picadilly today. My missus works in the kitchen at the Picadilly; you ever et there? She's feelin' poorly today....."

Southern folks are genuine, good people; as they say here in NS, finest kind, son! Finest kind!

So if you're thinking I still have a southern accent, think again. 'Cuz I'm leaving here to go straight to Tim Horten's to order my coffee......double double!

A FATHER'S LOVE

A FATHER'S LOVE


Victoria was in the 2nd day of her isolation from the rest of the convent when she started to devise a plan. Being very careful to not alert the Mother Superior of her idea, she pretended to be truly sorry for her actions. The punishment given to her by Mother Katherine caused her little grief as she had fasted before and found it to be rewarding and challenging.

As the small, hard piece of bread and a bowl of water were slid inside the little, dark room, she ignored it. There would be 24 hours in which to consume both.

When she had missed Confession because she had overslept, she was immediately summoned to the main office of the Mother Superior. She was not allowed to speak; she was not invited to sit down; she was merely sentenced to 2 weeks of fasting in her own, privare space.

This time enabled Victoria to reflect on her life as a Novice working towards becoming a Nun. She spent much time looking back over her teenaged years and studied her predictament. It had now been over 2 years since she had decided to join the convent. In less than 7 months, she would take her vows and there would be no going back.

When she had accepted Edward's engagement ring at the age of 20, they had set a date to marry. Her heart embraced love. Her world was complete as all she had ever wanted was a loving husband and lovable children. Planning her wedding day took all of her time, money and energy but she was consumed with having her dreams come true.

Perhaps she should have spent more time with Edward. She suspected something was going on but could not fathom what it may be. When she caught him cheating with her sister, Alexandria, she felt her world falling to pieces. He begged her forgiveness and maybe she could have forgiven him, in time. But when he proved to be responsible for fathering her sister's child, Victoria could not bear the shame and humiliation.

It was their Priest who suggested the solution to her pain and suffering. At the time, she only wished to have an escape from reality and an end to the madness. After being accepted into the closest Convent to her Parish, she told no-one goodbye but silently slipped into oblivian.

In the beginning, she was curious about life as a Novice and eventually, a Nun. They spent the majority of their waking hours on their knees. If they weren't praying, they were scrubbing floors. At 4 a.m., they were expected to be kneeling inside the chapel, awaiting Mother Katherine. By dawn's early light, they were preparing a breakfast of fresh eggs, home baked bread and lemon tea.

The afternoons were spent reading their Bibles, cleaning the Convent, preparing the Chapel and praying. Confession was daily as was tending to the herb gardens and plants. Life was serene, simple and very, very lonely.

Now she found herself being severely punished for her actions. When she had fasted for the 7th day, she was no longer hungry but was very fatiqued and weak. Her room became her tomb and all she lived for was her dream to escape as soon as her pentance was complete. The 8th day brought with it a feeling of faintness and desparation.

As she awoke on the 9th day, she could no longer stand up alone and since no-one was allowed inside her tiny, airless room, Victoria sensed only gloom and doom. What if she died and no-one found her until the end of her inprisonment on the 15th day? She prayed, asking His guidance and forgiveness.

As she slept and dreampt and laid in a semi-consciouse state, she knew she was dying. She opened her eyes to see a picture of Christ on the wall. He was hanging from the cross as it was the day in which He was crucified. Victoria cried to see his suffering and wondered if He saw hers?

She heard the half slice of bread and small bowl of water being slid into her cell and tried to cry out. But she had no voice. "O father, forgive me of my sins and help me to find the strength to carry on" she whispered.

They found her unconscious on the morning of the 15th day. The Mother Superior was summoned immediately to the young Novice's room. There, she attended to her subject and placed her own rosary in Victoria's hands. They found a stretcher to carry her slim, emaciated body to the Infirmary. Her Parish Priest was called to administer the last rites.

As the family must be called when and if death is imminent, Victoria's family arrived at dawn on the 16th day. Their hearts broke in unison when they first saw her, their youngest daughter. They stroked her still, fevered face and combed her long, wet matted hair. Only God could help her now and they dropped to their knees.

She hovered near death all that very long day. But as the nourishment reached her and her bodily functions began to rejuvinate, Victoria slowly began to breathe on her own. And when she opened her big, blue eyes on the morning of the 20th day, she had turned the corner and they knew she would live. At least her body had survived; they all knew her emotional state would require much more time and patience.

When she was left alone with her own priest on the 24th day, they spent an hour together in Confession and prayer. Afterwards, he announced that Victoria would not be returing to the convent or to her family. She had requested to stay with her elderly grandparents in the country-side until she was well enough to re-evaluate her life and her hopes for a future.

As she left the Catholic hospital in a taxi to travel to her grandparents home, she felt the rosary that Mother Katherine had given to her. And she smiled for the very first time in many weeks.

"Thank you, Father. I thank you for loving me when I couldn't love myself."

PAPER DREAMS

PAPER DREAMS


She said she had a headache, so he left to watch TV
Nothing much was on, so he thought that he'd call me
When the telephone rang I thought that I would die
He said "may I tell you why I just want to cry?"

Now his wife was my oldest and my best friend
We spent our time just bashing all the men
She only stayed because he was quite rich
And even she admitted that she was a bitch.

She told me once how she longed to escape
If only it wasn't such a mess of red tape
"Paper dreams" is what she called her life
And she no longer wished to be a wife.

I listened while he cried on my broad shoulder
And when he sobbed I grew a little bolder
I hugged him to me as he sighed aloud
But he left to walk in the cold, large crowd.

Weeks went by and she had moved far away
I saw him in the park one long, summer day
He had a special friend just half his own age
And as he winked at me, I knew he'd turned the page.

Life is short and we all make our own beds
Sometimes it takes alot to turn our stubborn heads
But when we risk whats new, for what's grown old
Sometimes we hold the cards, sometimes we fold.

I went to her funeral, later on that same, lonely year
The small crowd gathered round, flowers everywhere
I thought of her with humour, as I recalled her schemes
"Dear God, please deliver her, from her paper dreams."

I saw him around Christmas time the following year
His young wife and baby were standing very near
I walked on by, my paper dreams hid deep inside
And when he said "how are you?" I smiled & I lied.

DO YOU REMEMBER?

DO YOU REMEMBER?


Well, it's almost time for you to turn another year older, my friend and if I'm not mistaken, I believe this will be your sixty second? We first met when I was just 17 or 18 and as we are approximately the same age, that means we were teenagers together. Unbelievable!

Do you remember? We wore white lipstick, nylons, stretch pants with stirrups, full slips, midi coats, maxi pads and mini skirts. We were thin and thought we were fat. We had endless energy and talents but thought we were old and that we would always be struggling and poor. We were newly weds, new mommies and brand new daughter-in-laws.

Do you remember? We weren't cheerleaders in High School anymore nor did we belong to any CGIT or Future Homemakers of Canada Clubs or Girl Guides. No, not us. We didn't tease our hair and go on double-dates to tease our boyfriends. We didn't primp and prance around for hours in a new, sexy outfit. Nor did we sun-bathe while listening to the Beatles or the Beachboys on our transister radios; no, not us.

Do you remember? We learned to bake pies for our small, new families while changing the first of thousands of cloth diapers for our infants. We were busy making formula, sterilizing bottles and nipples, burping and bathing our precious new "dolls." We hung out our laundry every day, we cooked supper every night, we made love to our new husbands and aimed to please everyone but ourselves.

Do you remember? The house we rented had an upstairs apartment that we rented while your small family rented the lower level. The elderly landlord and his wife were in their late 80's and eccentric is the mildest and gentlest word I can find to desribe them. How we laughed! How we cried!

Do you remember? We almost froze to death with such extreme low temperatures in the house, so one of us would sneak to their kitchen to turn up the thermostat. When interrogated, we all denied doing so! Now I'm in my 60's, I can relate to them and can't stand a bedroom with any heat on. And how our Landlady complained of my sexy panties hanging on the line where "Mister" sat outside to see them! Oh my!

Do you remember? "It's hockey night in Canada!" How I hated those long Saturday nights with our husbands either out watching wrestling matches in the city or laying on our only sofa to watch hockey on a small black and white TV with rabbit ears. I'd sit at the kitchen table with the old oilcloth, wishing I was back in Barrington with my school friends, at a street dance or a pyjama party.

Do you remember? We used to let your sons and my daughter play together while we sipped a bottle of pop. We were so proud of each and every accomplishment; we'd clap and hug them and get down on the bare floor with them. My knees hurt now just thinking about it! But how I, too, loved Slinky and Etchesketch and Heidi and coloring books......

Do you remember? Our new husbands went off to work with lunches you and I prepared lovingly and with great imagination. How was I to know that mine didn't like peanut butter with bologna? I loved them! And when I put a note in his lunchbox, his co-worker saw it & teased him by reading it aloud. They were all disappointed when it simply said "Don't forget to cash your check before the bank closes at 3 o'clock."

Do you remember? The day you told me you were moving back to Meaghers Grant? That was earth-shattering to me! You were my model, my anchor, my rock! Who would I try new recipes on, who would tell me how to stop diaper rash, when to add bleach to my whites, how to iron my new silk blouse, how to keep Lisa's ears cleaned out, what to do with my feelings of homesickness.............

Do you remember? I do. And I have always missed you, always been so proud of you for being a foster mother who cared so dilligently and tenderly for so many dozens and dozens of babies and kids who had no start in life. I have always envied you your passion for mothering, for mentoring, for your long marriage to Ross. Your love of family, pets, gardening, home-making....I remember!

Happy Birthday in JANUARY to me and to you in MARCH, my dear friend. We are women who survived the 60's; we were lucky to have found one another and to have God's blessings even into our 6th decade. Our paths turned out very differently, yours and mine yet we are still the same 17 year old girls inside.....frightened at times, courageous at others but always perseverant, determined and unpredictable.

Call me and tell me again how to make that pie crust with crushed graham crackers........

MORE THAN A PHOTO

MORE THAN A PHOTO

I heard that you really liked to sing a country song
I even heard you play guitar & I sang right along
I know you liked to listen to "Picture In a Frame"
Sad, country music but you loved it all the same.

Now you're gone like Gosdin, Johnny Cash & Hank
Any money you had left, just waits in the bank
You left all your beautiful and cherished guitars
And there's no telling how many rare, antique cars.

There's a picture on the front page of the paper today
Show's you smiling and happy before you went away
But you're more than a picture that sells newspapers
Loved by friends, musicians, customers and neighbors.

So rest high upon that mountain now and don't look back
We will join up with you somewhere along the track
Life for us won't ever hold all the sweet joy you gave
We know you are in Heaven and not just in a grave.

Sometimes we don't understand why God does these things
We only know we loved to hear you sit & pick those strings
So strum your way to Heaven and when you reach that shore
We'll send our love and wishes, until we meet once more.



(In memory of Winston Fearon who left us way too soon)