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 eaving
my camera home, I was traveling to honor a memory. The images
were in my mind and heart. As they developed there, these
words found their way onto paper.
He demanded as much of others as he did of himself,
Making him seem hard, difficult.
You measured up or got out of his way -
I did a little of both.
Life was hard for him, and it toughened this man.
Each adversity and every achievement tended
to layer him
So that often the veneer concealed the core and
even he lost touch of which was which.
He loved intensely those closest,
Even after losing his child.
With the meagerest of tools,
He conquered most of his mountains.
He often wondered what he would have accomplished
if he had had a better education.
He took pride in his successes,
None, greater than the perfect barrel of pickles,
or jar of JOY sweet peppers he was able to fashion
from the fruit of the soil.
The smell of the brine was his cologne
Which he wore with no apology.
He began a new career at an age when most seek
retirement,
Through this challenge too, he steered a steady
course.
He was painfully curt, abrupt,
His word, his look, like a surgeon's scapel.
How to measure a life so full, so rich?
He never lost his faith in God.
I believe he never lost faith in his loved ones.
He dared us to forget him.
I don't think we will ...
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