December 7, ’41: Pearl Harbor Day! But most of you were not alive then, or too young, To recognize its impact then, in any way; But that day must not be allowed to fade, unsung, Because of passing time, advancing years or not, For in and of that day this
Do you believe in Santa Claus? Perhaps you’d better! You must be cognizant that he’s a trend setter. We’re lucky that we get him on this Christmas gig; For as our kids are quick to tell you, he is BIG! And I can prove it—every Christmas, every letter That they
When I was eight, or nine, or ten… It matters not at all, back then, But there is something I still see, Most definitely Mom would agree, She’d look at me with scant belief And, in that first look, say “Good Grief!” The dirt around our neighborhood Just never acted
I viewed the calendar. I felt the panic pour. That everything was happening just like before. I hardly could believe—anticipating then In going through the same old routines once again. Upon my writing this, re-reading the above, I realize this is but an exercise of love. Each year we feel
As your habit of measuring time, I surmise, May now come to you, actually, as a surprise; Because you never thought of it that way before, So in “measuring time” you must quickly learn more. But, in truth, you will measure time some every day, Like the things that you
Through history, most governments are formed by force Or accident—and this has been the normal course, Until, in 1787, came a voice Insisting it be made through reflection and choice. Not only was this unheard of, but viewed with doubt— In governing, the common citizen was out. Our Constitution brought
The frost is on the pumpkin, yessirree; Predicting what the weather soon will be. But, here and now, we’re barely into Fall, So why do we now have this early call? I know that Mother Nature’s oft obtuse, But here it seems she’s playing fast and loose. Two days ago
No matter how you came to see them, brooding round their pot, Their stark black garbs identical, down to the common stitch, You realize that this Halloween is different, like as not, And tremble knowing that you cannot tell which witch is which. But you don’t have to worry, and
To put one season of the year above the rest, Many of you think that Autumn is the best. Subjective logic likely will come into play; Though I believe it’s simply in your DNA. For this is Harvest time—the “bringing in the sheaves.” The whole year’s effort then is seen,
Today, some primeval mentality persists; Perhaps with some sophistication, it exists. The most successful hunter-gatherers stood tall, And soon would find that they were ruling over all. What this high status did for egos was not taught; Some good, some bad, some praiseworthy, some not. But this had far-reaching effect
It was a time so many years ago; But still I wonder why I let you go. I caused the break itself, that much is true, To you occurring right out of the blue. I cannot say the memory is bad, But, rest assured, it doesn’t make me glad. The
Logic may well be a word not logical at all; Take, for instance, life forms on which all our food chains fall. Logic says they have been out there to provide a meal For specific other life forms to consume with zeal. But, what is not logical, is how and
A situation in which God must intervene To have it be as you would have it seen Is not so rare in life as you may choose to think, Or not believing that there can be such a link. We muse about our Guardian Angels, like as not, As harmless
Just look at you. Where have you been? And don’t give me that silly grin. How can you get so dirty quick?— Whatever dirt you touch must stick. My goodness, you are such a sight, They wouldn’t know that you were white. Okay, upstairs, get in the tub. I’m sure,
What matters most in life? You find you’ve not a clue. You struggle with the question; what else can you do? The more you ponder, seemingly there’s but one call— There is no easy answer; maybe none at all. The Bible says it’s love, and that you must include, But
