50th Anniversary of 2 Soldiers

                                                              

                                                                                                                                       

                                                         After reading my brother's memoirs,  I'm                                                                 reminded of that fateful year, and my only way to share it                                                           was to transfer my poem from the old blog.                                                                       now, there's been another decade passed...                                     

                                     

                                              But now, I'm recommitted, since I have grandchildren, to find a way or ways                                         to help co-create a much better future scenario for them and others' children and                                         grandchildren.

                                  

                                   

                                    Thursday, May 22, 2008

                       40th Anniversary of 2 Soldiers

                                         There were no guarantees,
                                         When I sat on my mother’s lap,
                                         As we rode to Stony Lake;
                                         Her hands fidgeted
                                         For reasons I could not understand.

                                         Dad drove down roads of love,
                                         Big…grandiose…powerful,
                                         I couldn’t have much more,
                                         But there were no guarantees.

                                         Three older brothers,
                                         Who found creative ways
                                         To exclude me,
                                         And one wonderful, fluffy,
                                         Big English setter.

                                         It seemed as though the scenario
                                         Would always be there.

                                         And when we camped,
                                         I watched my parents talk upside down
                                         In the camper
                                         As my brothers tented elsewhere.

All this, and there were
No guarantees.

I had a grandmother
Who told me I missed
the best part of the potato
by not eating the skin,
And I showed her my “writing.”
She said, “That’s nice,” and
Tossed it into the wastebasket.

It was then I knew
There were no guarantees
That anyone would like my “writing”.
I made the loops, the dots, and crosses.
I thought my writing was just as real
As anyone’s who knew how.

We had a girl in kindergarten,
Who had tap shoes and tap-danced;
So I told everyone I could dance, too,
Because I’d tested my natural rhythm.

But there were no guarantees,
Because the children laughed,
And the teacher laughed,
(I never liked her.)
When I danced…
There were no guarantees
That anyone would like my “dancing”.

I thought my rhythms, my moves,
The sound of my feet,
And above all, the sheer joy
I felt while dancing
Were just as real as anyone
Who knew how.

When Dad got sick and felt
He couldn’t preach anymore,
Though he did better on
His way down from the pulpit
Than ever before,
There were no guarantees
He’d even have a job.

When he got frantic, my mom
Said, “Be not anxious.”
Her prayers lead him to the job.

I’m her age now, but
There was no guarantee for her.
She landed in the hospital
And nearly died….

And Dad got frantic again
When I came home too late
(I hadn’t wanted to –
I’d kept telling my friend
I had to go.)
And told me how Mom
Almost didn’t make it,
No guarantees I’d keep my mother.
Visited her in the hospital
--No glasses on – I thought,
“She’s kind of pretty,”
The first I’d ever noticed.

Which made my oldest brother
Come home from the seminary for good,
Because there were no guarantees
He’d become the minister
My parents expected him to be,
Nor that he’ d (nor my other brothers) agree.

Even the big English setter
Had a heart attack
At my friends’ farm,
And there was no guarantee
I’d get to keep her.

Even Dad was upset,
As she died in my mother’s arms
In the basement.
Mom grew from that,
Learned animals had souls,
And Lucky was in “Dog Heaven,”
No matter what Mom was taught before.

And when my youngest brother
Got assigned to Viet Nam,
I was told I cried, but I couldn’t remember;
There was no guarantee
He’d come back,
…And he didn’t. *
And when my father grieved,
There was no guarantee
He’d be able, with poor health,
To stand the grief,
…And he didn’t.

And finally, Mom, who’d flirted earlier with death
Got older and older and weaker;
There was no guarantee
Thirty years later,
I could keep her.

Now, the three of us are left
And our families, we have born.
And we know
No guarantees for any of us.

We disagree and banter,
But we know we’d better
Treasure one another,
Because we’re going
Where there is a guarantee
We’ll be together
In the Spirit World;
And like vaporous clouds, raining,
Perhaps returning
To the earth plane
Every once in awhile…

Forever…


*taken from a quote from Kubler-Ross and Buscaglia,
a girl writing a letter about Viet Nam: "If I had only..."