HAPPY NEW YEAR !

We have had a very good Christmas holiday. We have been so happy to be with all our
children and grandchildren. And we always receive the best of all presents from them that any parent/grandparent could receive. That is the joy we feel when we witness again what caring and thoughtful adults they have all become. Oh, and they are pretty silly and funny, too. But, then, they learned that from Dad/Grandpa, not from me.

It was also wonderful to be able to walk without a cane or any help this Christmas.
Other than an occasional Tylenol, the holidays are going completely unassisted medically. Praise the Lord for that.

So this afternoon, as I look forward to an exciting New Years Eve (pizza and pepsi), I am excited to see what 2011 has in store. There are always a few bumps in every road, and the family tripped along over a few in 2010. But, thankfully, it looks like things will smooth out nicely in 2011.

That is our prayer, for our family, and for one and all. I wish everyone loved one,
both family and friend, a smooth and bump free New Year!

I Hab a Code

A week or so ago I told you that Don had a terrible cold. Well, now his is gone, but he passed it on to me, of course. I am feeling perfectly miserable. One of my former students, Keith, used the line, "I had a code", or something like that on his Facebook page a while back, and it rang a bell. I remembered a poem from my teaching days that sounded very much like that. So today I looked for my old teaching days poetry books, and, sure enough, I found the poem by that title.

Back in the 1990's Anderson Area Reading Council would bring in a published author every year as a feature speaker at their annual Young Authors Conference. When I was president of the group, our featured authors were Carolyn Lesser and Larry Shles. They are a couple of former teachers who collaborated on several children's books. I purchased their poetry book called "The Knees Knock Again." The following is one of the poems from this book.


I Hab a Code

I hab a code id by dose
Ad I cad pway today.
Baby I cad pway tobow-woe.

I wand to wud ad jumb ad skib
But here I ab stuck id bed.
Stufd wid bedicine,
Yuk!

I hab a code id by dose
Ad I cad pway today,
Bud......
I ab GOIG to pway tobow-woe!



I would like to think that Keith learned this in my reading class, but I had Keith in class long before I met Carolyn and Larry, and bought their book. Keith probably
bought the book for his daughter!

Colds seem to be a favorite topic for children's poets. You have no doubt heard of
Shel Silverstein, whose absolutely nonsensical poetry delights children. Delighted them so much, in fact, that his books had a way of walking out of my classroom. I don't know how many I have bought in my life. I recently found copies at the Friends of the Library book sale, so I replenished my book shelf once again.
Here is Shel's contribution to cold-related poetry:


BAD COLD

This cold is too much for my shirtsleeve.
Go get me a Kleenex - and fast.
I sniffle and wheeze
And I'm ready to sneeze
And I don't know how long I can last.... (exactly how I feel)

Atchoo --- It's too wet for a Kleenex,
So bring me a handkerchief, quick.
It's - atchoo - no joke,
Now the handkerchief's soaked.
Hey, a dish towel just might do the trick.

Atchoo - it's too much for a bath towel.
There never has been such a cold.
I'll be better off
With that big tablecloth,
No - bring me the flag off the pole.

Atchoo - bring the clothes from the closet,
Atchaaa - get the sheets from the bed,
The drapes off the window,
The rugs off the floor
To soak up this cold in my head.

Atchoo - hurry down to the circus
An d ask if they'll lend you the tent.
You say they said yes?
Here it comes - Lord be blessed -
Here it is - Ah kachoooooo - there it went.


See, the longer he writes, the sillier he gets, and kids love it!
Anyway, now you know just how I am feeling.
I hope to see the family on Christmas - all well again.
In the meantime, stay away from our house. I don't want to pass this on to
anyone else but the circus tent!

A New Look At My Dad

Last night sister-in-law, Janie, called me looking for dates that are pertinent to our family history. She has misplaced her address book into which she has always recorded all important family information over the years, so she is frantically (if you could call anything that calm little Janie does as frantic) trying to make a new book. It is good that she is redoing the book, because the whole family ALWAYS calls Janie when in doubt of some statistic. She is a book-keeper-numbers kind of girl.

Anyway, today I ventured out to the storage to dig out all my mother and dad's papers that have been in the storage area since their deaths. I did manage to round up all the dates that Janie was wanting. (Now Don and I must try to organize all our records, too.) But, more importantly, I found a small envelope on which my mother had written "Mark's writing". Hm, I thought my mother was the writer. But, lo and behold, I have now discovered a new side of my father.

Most of the short writings (mostly poems) were religious in nature. My dad was a preacher's kid, and a choir director, so church and his faith were very important to
him. But I also found a very charming little poem that he had written to my mother on the occasion of their fifth wedding anniversary. I love it because it shows a side of my father that I rarely saw. I was, after all, the fifth child, born when my dad was in his forties. By then, having gone through a depression with little money, and having five children, he was always a pretty serious kind of guy. But, my mother must have loved his poem, too, for she had kept it safe the rest of her life.

So I here now publish my dad's charming little love poem to my mother on their fifth (wooden) anniversary on June 12, 1932. They were already parents of two sons.

ODE TO A COUPLE OF SPROUTS

For the first five years of living as one,
If you and the years have been good,
Protocal states any gifts that are brought,
Shall be made of nothing but wood.

The reason for this has never been plain,
Some say there are two schools of thinking.
It could be some fruit has been picked from the tree,
Or the roots into good soil are sinking.

Be that as it may, you should still keep in mind,
As you're sipping it up from your bowl,
Things of wood are often devoured by fire,
So keep your flame of love under control.

The question of questions, as we celebrate,
Is not so much could you or couldn't you,
But, if the power were yours to turn back the years,
Be honest now, "wood" you or "wooden" you?

Then when our trunks are warped and our limbs are bent,
And no leaves on your branches are seen,
Look at the saplings from the seeds dropped,
And think kindly of the scrubs ever "Green."

by Mark Edward Green
for Gladys Green

I don't know about those flames of love being under control, the third son was born the next spring.

The Hanging of the Greens

We've hung the wreath
of garland long.
Its circle is small;
its powers strong.
Ever circling
round and round,
bringing wishes
that peace may abound.
Everlasting, all winter long,
bringing hope that spring will return.
Ever showing that we care
that blessings be yours
in the coming year.
Ever embracing
like God's love on Earth.
Ever celebrating
His Son's birth.

Orienteering Life

Hey, you, with your GPS,
are you looking for a hidden cache?
Is it a kind of orienteering where
maps and compass do the steering?
Does it bring a joyful feeling
when the cache you are revealing?
Oh, wouldn't it be just the BEST
if life's goals could be GPS-ed?
Freedom, due north, thirty degrees,
or ten degrees east to whatever you please.
Head west to realize ambitions,
and south to lose all inhibitions.
Check the map to find Fulfillment
in the state of Strong Commitment.
Due north leads to true romance.
A jog to the west gives love a chance.
Heading east for many a mile,
will lead to a life of elegant style.
And a few miles south brings fame and wealth,
while heading back west will guarantee health.
But, how about values like honesty and trust?
Where do you acquire what's fair and just?
Won't you need compassion on your road
and perseverance to carry the load?
Where, oh GPS, is loyalty and honest sweat,
and the joy of many good friends, just met?
Turn around! Look back from where you roam.
You'll find it all with family and home.