SUCCESS

Editor's note: "I suppose every living person was born with a desire to be successful, which is good, except for the fact that there are different definitions for success," Dad wrote as the introduction to this poem. That seems to me to be food for thought as we start a new year.

I'd like to be successful,
Like some fellows that I know,
And get my name in newsprint,
And on the radio;
And have a lot of money
To spend, or give away,
And just sort of take it easy,
And live from day to day.

I reckon that's wishful thinking,
It's not for the likes of me;
I'll live and die a poor man,
As far as I can see;
But sometimes a fellow's better
Off than what he knows,
There's more to life than money,
And fame, and fancy clothes!

And when I stop and study 'bout
The blessings that I've got,
I feel ashamed to think that I've
Complained about my lot.
I've got a home and family
That money couldn't buy,
And no king, in all his glory
Has had more fun than I.

I've made a lot of friendships
That time will not erase,
And I hope that my departing
Will leave a little empty place.
Oh, it's nice to dream of money,
And the pleasure that it brings,
If we don't forget the value
Of some other precious things.

So when we inventory,
Let us pause, and ponder whether
We have counted all our blessings,
When we add it all together.
When our numbered days are over,
And we're called to meet our fate,
Will we brag about our riches,
To the keeper of the gate?

Will he ask us how much money
We have stored away on earth,
Or will he have some other way
To figure up our worth?
Yes, I'd like to be successful,
So would everyone, I guess,
But let's all be mighty careful
How we define success!

--Acres of Verse (1994)

I LIKE WINTER

Editor's note: "There are many things about winter that are beautiful and fascinating, but of course it depends on your vantage point!" Dad wrote as the introduction to this poem.

I like snow;
I love to hear
The north wind blow;
Not just a cold December breeze,
But really howling through the trees,
Like screaming, wailing
wild banshees.

I like the frost,
On door and window
Pane embossed;
And hung like garlands, clean and bright,
On fence and shrub, reflecting white;
Or ghostly in
The pale moonlight.

I like to see
The drooping branches
On a tree,
Bent down, to touch the ground below,
Each one transfixed into a bow,
By weight of heavy
Sodden snow.

I like the season,
For each above
Related reason;
Oh, yes, I love it, every minute
Have no complaints at all ag'in it,
If I don't have
To go out in it!

--Eighty After Eighty (1995)

ODE TO WINTER

Editor's note: "Some folks dread to see winter arrive' others hate to see it go," Dad wrote as the introduction to this poem. "I guess it depends on your appetite for weather." I don't know which book this is from -- it's one my Aunt Olive, Dad's sister, chose for publication in the December/January issue of "Fanfare," the Brethren Retirement Community's newsletter. Looking outside and seeing half a dozen or so inches of white stuff on the ground, it seemed appropriate for posting here as well.

The northern wind is howling
Like a banshee in the night,
Overcoating lawn and garden
With a coverlet of white.

Wires along the highway,
Whining in the cruel cold,
Cry that winter's got us
In its bitter strangle hold.

The hoary frost has settled
O'er the garden corner post;
In the pale moonlight it shimmers
Like an eerie sheeted ghost.

I appreciate the beauty
Of the snowy winter scene;
With the world in fleecy garments,
It appears so white and clean.

But let me clear the record,
So as not to be amiss,
It doesn't take me long to get
My belly full of this!

'TIS THE SEASON

Editor's note: Dad never was one to get excited about holidays, most likely thinking for the most part they're a waste of time and money that could be better spent elsewhere. And for the most part, he had a good point -- perhaps never more accurate than this time of year.

'Tis the season to be jolly
Time for mistletoe and holly;
Merry hearts are full of cheer,
Christmas Day is almost here!

Joybells ringing all around,
From every side, the carols sound;
Christmas music fills the air,
Yuletide spirit everywhere.

Toddlers, thrilled as they can be,
Climb and sit on Santa's knee;
Whisper in his ear what they
Would have him bring on Christmas Day.

Nearly hidden, under all
This hoopla, din and fol-de-rol,
A manger scene that seems to shout,
"Hey, here is what it's all about!"

No question, Christmas has become
Commercialized too much for some;
But no one dares to advocate
We lose our right to celebrate.

And though I deem that well and good,
And wouldn't change it if I could,
I've had enough of Christmas cheer
To do me for another year!

--Eighty After Eighty (1995)

CHRISTMAS CARDS

"Our Christmas card list is a little shorter this year," Dad wrote as the introduction to this poem. "We've crossed out the names of those folks we haven't seen for ten years, people who owe us money, and all relatives no closer than third cousins."

From friends and kinfolks everywhere,
We're getting Christmas cards;
Some with little notes inside,
To give us their regards.

Up to now, we've seventeen,
But expect that many more
Before the season ends, because
We sent out thirty-four.

Some are cheap, some are not,
And Lucy's keeping track;
You can tell how much they cost
By the numbers in the back.

Here and there, we find where we
Can cut our card expense,
If one we sent cost half a buck,
And theirs was twenty cents.

Perhaps the difference ain't enough
To be concerned about,
But they never seem to total up
To as much as we paid out.

I'm sure we won't break even,
No chance of coming near it;
But anyhow, I'm happy we
Have got the Christmas spirit!

--Acres of Verse (1994)

THANKSGIVING FARE

Editor's note: Many of you know Dad was a popular after-dinner speaker for many years, and with that came some pluses and minuses. "After-dinner speaking is not, in itself, fattening," he wrote as the introduction to this poem. "But the environment is conducive to overeating, especially around the holidays." Most of us don't do the public speaking circuit, but this time of year, I think we can relate to what he's talking about!

Thanksgiving time is on us,
And we've cause to celebrate,
But I've been doing, maybe,
More than what I should, of late.

For, almost every evening
Finds me occupied somewhere,
At a banquet table loaded
With that good Thanksgiving fare!

Heaping mounds of turkey,
And the dressing piled up high!
Cranberry sauce and salad,
And delicious pumpkin pie!

I'm thankful for the bounty
Of this gala festive board,
But my middle section shows it,
Which I cannot well afford.

I've been a turkey lover,
For many, many years,
But I'm so full of turkey now,
It's running out my ears!

When I came home last evening,
And the same the night before,
Lucy came and let me in
When I gobbled at the door!

--Acres of Verse (1994)

I SHALL NOT COVET

Editor's note: "Fortune comes to everyone who waits," Dad reminded in the introduction to this poem. "This one saying may be true, if you don't run out of time."

I don't care how far you've come
Toward acquiring fame;
It doesn't bother me at all,
That people hail your name.

And I don't give a hoot because
Your house is bigger'n mine,
And you've got such a fancy place,
And all fixed up so fine.

You're welcome to your Cadillac,
You drive with such delight;
I don't begrudge you all of this,
As a jealous fellow might.

But, if we're even, all of us,
And equal at the start,
It's hard to see how we can get
So many bucks apart!

For your good fortune to arrive,
You hadn't long to wait;
But it appears that mine will come
Too little and too late!

With all the riches you have gained,
I say hooray for you!
Though I'd be better satisfied
If I could have some, too!

--Acres of Verse (1994)