| The Creative Expressions of... Bill Vivrett |
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| Updated 12.22.04 |
| Dad
A bull named Buck out of hearty French stock Crashing eighty successive seasons against life�s corral gates and never down long - - but back again, head lower than before Asking no one for help except, maybe, God and Him not too often. Is it a measure of manhood to say you�re not hungry when little children are? Two daughters but three sons - - One, uncompromising, obstinate - - like him. Another, silent, dependable - - like him. The youngest, determined, perseverant - - like him. He hears only what he likes - - in the Oriental fashion Though he�s never been East of the Illinois side. What matter of man is this who does without so long and doesn�t become hollow? who fights the battle of the cardiograph in white hot intensity, and gets up to walk out. His understanding - - from wisdom; his wisdom from life�s one-room, schoolhouse. This master painter � out of the hills to create beauty with housepaint, and dreams from sweat. Ride the rails you, Blackwell boy! Someday - - Catch an engine on a climb, and ride those same rails HOME. |
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| TRIBUTE TO BUCK |
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