******
Learning how to wiggle ears,
Is something to show-off to your peers.
But when it’s a God given grace,
Then you go about it with a smile on your face.
The simple act of enjoying a meal,
Sets ears a-moving in a way unreal.
A shinny pate
May come to those that “only stand and wait”
But genetics has its sway,
To ensure that hair falls along the way.
No razor ever passed o’re this dome
The hair once there was long past gone.
A camera can be a soldier’s tool
To capture memories of war on the film’s spool.
Lost in storage, the pictures dim
But mental images remain within.
From England with his booty he did fly.
A bicycle with skinny wheels and seat so high,
That only one so tall as he,
Could ride that contrivance, long and free.
Mounted on the back, held firm in place. Have no fear,
His first born rode about, facing to the rear.
They traveled far and wide
Round and round and the countryside.
Employment’s such a waste of time,
But, eating’s a habit most refined.
So off to Maine’s snow and winter bleak
Employment there, he did seek.
And a railroad man he became
Boxcar loading was his game.
An Aggie he was, but not the Texas kind.
No, he graduated from U. of Maryland with a degree so fine.
Qualified to do, I know not what
But farming I am sure it was not.
A visit to the farm did prove in milking sports
That his talents lay in employment of other sorts.
Milking a cow ‘s something to be admired
Even mastering a three-legged stool is inspired.
But when it comes to squeezing,
Some have it and others ‘re teasing.
Filling the bucket’s the goal
Before exhaustion of cow and milker takes its toll.
A fiddle he played along the way,
‘t was entertainment by night and light of day.
But to those who knew
It was a violin from which his music flew.
Cold hands and feet are nothing to be ashamed
But why spend a life in Portland Maine,
Back to the South, the compass beaconed
To Tennessee they went, I do reckon.
No wonder Bean Station had such appeal
The nip in Maine’s air, you still can feel.
Traveling life’s long road in a Volkswagen
To far off places, gives no rights to braggin,
To ‘laska and the out-back they did track
Just keep on the road and don’t look back
For-sure, there was many a detour
But who’s watching in a rear-view mirr’.
Teaching and helping others was the goal
To build credit for an eternal Soul.
And this he did in a small school.
Teaching there, the Golden Rule.
Finally on a wind-swept hill on a dreary, rainy day,
He found a spot to rest and past time away.
Surrounded by friends who came to say
Home. This Missionary’s son’s found a place to stay.
****
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