- As I Remember, Chapter 1
- As I Remember, Chapter 2
- As I Remember, Chapter 3
- As I Remember, Chapter 4
- As I Remember, Chapter 5
- As I Remember, Chapter 6
- As I Remember, Chapter 7
- As I Remember, Chapter 8
- As I Remember, Chapter 9
- As I Remember, Chapter 10
- As I Remember, Chapter 11
- As I Remember, Chapter 12
- As I Remember, Chapter 13
- As I Remember, Chapter 14
- As I Remember, Chapter 15
- As I Remember, Chapter 16
- As I Remember, Chapter 17
- As I Remember, Chapter 18
- As I Remember, Chapter 19
- As I Remember, Chapter 20
- As I Remember, Chapter 21
- As I Remember, Chapter 22
- As I Remember, Chapter 23
- As I Remember, Chapter 24
- As I Remember, Chapter 25
- As I Remember, Chapter 26
- As I Remember, Chapter 27
- As I Remember, Chapter 28
- As I Remember, Chapter 29
- As I Remember, Chapter 30
- As I Remember, Chapter 31
- As I Remember, Chapter 32
- As I Remember, Chapter 33
- As I Remember, Chapter 34
- As I Remember, Chapter 35
- As I Remember, Chapter 36
- As I Remember, Chapter 37
- As I Remember, Chapter 38
- As I Remember, Chapter 39
As I Remember…
Aug. 20, 1984
Books and Poems;
Just a little addition to the story of my life. Hope you find it interesting. To begin with, I will tell you a little about some of the poems I memorized when I was just a kid. Back in those days, there was no such thing as radio or TV However, we had other forms of entertainment. For instance, my Uncle George, Dad’s brother, was really great at reciting dramatic poems. When he would do THE FACE ON THE BAR ROOM FLOOR. he would get great applause. Some of the women would faint. I wasn’t so bad at this sort of thing myself. However, I went in for comedy rather than dramatics. The School Teacher’s Friday Night Dream was one of my favorites. And sixty some years after I learned the thing, it is still vivid in my memory. So just for kicks, I will type it out for you. Also, I will put down one that I used as an encore. I have forgotten the title. I guess I will never get over liking poems. In recent years, I have memorized or come up with a few that seem proper in my old age. I hope you like them.
Also I have been busy writing novels. Got about a dozen completed. One of these days, I will try and get some of them published. The title of the last one, which I just completed, is; WHO PULLED THE TRIGGER. We are in an atomic war and no one knows why. And speaking of books, I have two old rare books that are quite valuable. I keep them hid out close together here in my trailer. The title of one is; When Knighthood was in Flower. The love story of Charles Brandon and Mary Tudor, who is the sister of King Henry the eighth, by Edwin Caskoden. It is a very famous English novel and in almost perfect condition. Pictures and all, it is almost a hundred years old. So if I happen to get struck by lightening or get shot, look for these two books. The other one is; The complete works of Robert Service.
The School Teacher’s Friday Night Dream
Listen my children and you shall hear
Of Lady Clara, Vere De Vere.
It was the eighteenth of April in seventy five
Hardly a man is now alive, who remembers that
famous day and year.
At midnight in his guarded tent,
The Turk was dreaming of the hour.
When Greece her knee in supplence bent,
Would tremble at his power.
As he was dreaming an Angel song,
Awakened our little boy blue.
The years are long, the years are many.
Oh Douglas, Douglas, tender true.
The Judge rode slowly down the lane,
Stroking his horse’s chestnut mane.
He drew his bridle into the shade,
Of the apple tree to greet the maid, then asked;
Did you ever hear of the wonderful one hoss shay,
That was built in such a logical way?
It run a hundred years to the day.
I’ll tell you what happened without delay.
The boy stood on the burning deck,
From whence all but him had fled.
The flames rolled on, he would not go.
And this is what he said!
Oh Father I see a gleaming light,
Oh say what can it be?
But the father answered nary a word,
For a frozen corpse was he.
Up rose old Barbara Fletchery then,
Bowed with her four score years and ten.
Blue were her eyes as the fairy flax.
Her cheeks like the dawn of the day.
And I would that my tongue could utter
These words to him, she did say.
I am sorry that I spelt the word,
I hate to go above you.
Because the brown eyes lower fell,
Because you see I Love You!
A hush of sadness, a flush of shame.
Over the face of the leader came.
For of all the sad words of tongue and pen,
But the saddest are these. It might have been!
Then up rose brave Horatious,
And told the freeman at the gate.
To every man upon this earth,
Death…Death… Cometh soon or late.
And how can man die better,
Than facing fearful odd.
For I am Queen of the May Mother.
Winken, Blinken and Nod!
So those stately ships go on,
To have their haven under the hill.
But oh for the touch of that vanished hand,
And the sound of the voice that is still!
P.S. When I was a kid, the school teacher taught all of the eight grades. Poetry was taught to all. In the first grade, you learned the words of Little Boy Blue. By the time you reached the seventh, you had mastered Longfellow and were well into Shakespeare. So it was no wonder that the School Teacher’s Friday Night Dream got a little mixed up!
It was midnight on the ocean,
Not a street car was in sight.
The sun was shining brightly
And it rained all day that night!
T’was a summer night in winter,
The rain was snowing fast!
A bare foot boy with shoes on,
Stood sitting in the grass.
As the organ peeled potatoes,
Grease was rendered by the choir.
Holy Smoke! The Preacher shouted,
As someone set the church on fire.
In the rain he lost his hair.
Now his head resembles Heaven,
For there is no parting there!
These two poems, I learned when I was just a kid. I learned them so I would have something to recite at the parties. And they did get quite a lot of laughs. Maybe some of the kids, grandkids or great grand kids, will get a kick out of them.
I still love my poetry. Especially something with a sense of humor. And as I grow older, colder and bolder, I find a couple that sort of goes along with the times. And like the two oldies that I typed from memory, and added a touch of my own, I will attempt to put them down for you. So here goes…
OLD AGE IS HELL
The body gets stiff, you get cramps in your legs.
There is corns on your feet, as big as hen’s eggs.
There is gas in your stomach, elimination is poor.
You take Ex-Lax at night, then you are not sure.
You soak in the tub, or the body will smell.
Just like I told you, OLD AGE IS HELL!
Your teeth are decaying, eyesight is poor.
Hair falling out, all over the floor.
Your sex life is shot, it’s a thing of the past.
Don’t kid yourself my friend, even THAT doesn’t last!
You don’t go to parties, don’t dance anymore.
Just putting it mildly, you are one Hell of a bore!
Liquor is out, you can’t take a chance.
The bladder is so weak, you might pee your pants!
So you got nothing to plan for, nothing to expect.
Only the mail man, with your security check!
So get your affairs in order, and your will made out right,
Or on your way to the grave, there will be one Hell of a fight!
So listen my friend, if you feel fairly well.
Thank God you are alive, although OLD AGE IS HELL!
There is a lot of truth in this one!
P.S. This winter, I finished the novel, THE LOVE POTION. This is a story about an elderly gent that has returned from Central America and brings with him a beautiful gal and many seeds of, THE LOVE POTION. Just a couple of swallows from a drink made of this herb, LOOK OUT! This story takes place in Yuma, and I was there…
Just a Little Bit Mixed Up
Just a line to say I’m still living,
And not among the dead.
Although I’m getting very forgetful,
And mixed up in my head.
And there’s times I can’t remember,
As I stand in front of the stairs.
Am I going up there for something?
Or did I just come down from there!
And as I stand in front of the fridge,
My mind gets filled with doubt.
Have I just put something away,
Or come to take it out?
Sometimes I awake in the dark,
With my nightcap on my head.
I don’t know if I’m retiring,
Or just getting out of bed!
So if it’s my turn to write you a letter,
I don’t want you to get sore.
I probably think I have written,
And don’t want to be a bore.
So remember that I love you,
And I wish that you were here.
And now that it is mail time,
I must say goodbye my dear.
So here I stand if front of the mail box,
And my face is so very red.
Instead of mailing you my letter,
I have just opened it instead!
P.S. Someday you will understand…