Addendum

Other Poems of Naomi Bowers

Little Army Button Little Army button, disc of brass, Worn by an Army lass. Summer, Autumn, Winter, Spring, To your eagle memories cling. Kisses sweet, quite a few, Little Army button, I'll keep you. Little button with your bird, Never telling what you've heard. Love embraces, tears let fall, You have seen and heard it all. Cadet song, 'Army Blue.' Little Army button, I'll be true. Little round button, now you see, What your stars mean to me. Gazing at you I still find, Pleasant memories come to mind, Secrets old, a promise new, Little Army button, I need you. Little bright button, you shall stay,   With my souvenirs today, Keep reflecting like a glass, Bond of love for an Army lass, West Point, token true, Little Army button, I love you. 1940

 

My Relics I have a little box of relics, Things from here and there, A buckle, pin, a tie clasp, A little lock of hair. A square tied with a ribbon, Contains some wedding cake. A dance program I find there, With just one dancing mate. And then a book of poems A four leaf clover too. The button off a uniform, All shiny bright and new. A little golden compact, Holds memories so true, A tiny book of leather, Inscribed with, 'I love you.' A bracelet linked with silver, A ribbon for my hair, And as I check them over, I touch each one with care. I rub the Army button, To keep it just like new, A pressed and dried Petunia, A photograph or two. An empty perfume bottle, Whose odor lingers one, A hanky that's embroidered, A glove whose mate is gone. I count these little articles, As I put each in its place, But the button on the uniform, Still holds the place of grace. And last there are some letters,   Sent from 'Over There,' This is my collection, Match it if you dare. 1950

 
 

Busy Me I've thought and thought, through the weeks and years,   and wondered what I could do,     to make this world a nicer place,       for folks like me and you.         I chased a cat from a wren's nest,           Pulled a ragweed that grew by a path,             Watered the flowers on a neglected grave,               Helped a young man with his math,                 Wiped the blood from a young boy's knee,                   Brushed a tear from a little girl's eye.                     Read a letter to a blind friend,                       Smiled as the postman walked by,                         Helped a neighbor mend socks,                           Made jelly and cookies for a friend,                             Sent a card to someone who's ailing,                               Tended a baby while the Mama shopped,                                 Ironed a shirt for a new bride,                                   Took a young girl to church,                                     (wore my old hat with pride).                                       Now if everyone thought for a moment or two,                                         I'm sure they could find plenty to do,                                           to make this world a better place,                                             and bring smiles to more than a few. 1962

 
 

So Long When Dad and I have departed, Don't any of you feel blue, For we had a world of pleasure, Raising the three of you. It wasn't all sunshine and roses, We had our troubles and woes, Some money, some health, some . . .   It's better if nobody knows. Still the years went by so quickly. We hardly noticed them go, All of a sudden it seemed to us, You three were nearly grown. Then came the days you married, And Grandchildren came our way, Our mission in life had ended, As some 'Old Fogies' would say. Yes, your generation got married, New babies took your place, That is the way it should be, In the never ending race. Now we are old but happy, To see you three where you are, We have no regrets in leaving, So follow your own guiding star. 1967

 
 

Just a No-No Girl Twas St. Peter's Day at a social, And not a tremendous success, Goodnight was nearly disaster, I really must confess. If I hadn't of been a No-No Girl, You three would never have been, For Dad would have never married, A girl too easy to win. But the next day in the morning, He was rapping again at my door, To ask for my forgiveness, And would I date him once more. Month after month we went steady, And often went to my church, Sometimes we strolled in the meadow, Chewing the bark from a birch. We rode behind fast stepping horses, In buggies that shined just like new, Never stood in line at the movie, Mr. Driggs always waved us on through.   Dad's suits were made by his Taylor,* His shirts and ties were the best, While I wore homemade dresses, I always stood out from the rest. We sat on a hillside in Summer, And kicked dry leaves in the fall, But after the first date in Springtime, Sex was never mentioned at all. October found us out hunting, With Mary,** her boyfriend, and Buzz, *** We shot at squirrels and rabbits, But killing just wasn't for us. December was cold and snowy, So we went to coast at the farm, And there we talked of marriage, As we climbed the hill arm and arm. January brought Dad's draft call, Son our plans were made in a rush, And we were married two days later, By the Reverend John J. Resh. Now, fifty-eight years later, We still go hand in hand, Dad with his No-No sweetheart, And I with my patient man. 1975 * - Taylor: Arnold's Grandmother was a Taylor ** - Arnold's sister *** - Arnold's youngest brother.

 
 

About my Grandfather by Laura Lansberry Arnold, Pap, was a small strong sinewy man with a crop of beautiful wavy white hair and a brilliant shining smile, that, even over seventy, drew the local college girls to his yard to talk with him. Grandma thought it was cute. She knew he had never strayed and that he wasn't likely to start at such a late date. It might seem Grandma over-shadowed Pap, but that's not so. Pap had a special vitality, a manner about him that was captivating. When he and Grandma were together, Pap did most of the talking. And there was much to learn from him. While each of them was a fascinating person separately, they completed each other. Even when they were apart, there was a sense that the other was there, part of each other's thoughts. The two of them made the whole. There are many stories I could pass on about Pap, but the one that is the most revealing concerns his death bed. He had pernicious anemia, leukemia, a bad heart, but he'd kept going for years. He wanted to be around to take care of Grandma and was determined to live as long as possible. At eighty six, he had a stroke and was taken to the hospital. He was dying and everyone knew it. From all over the country, the family rushed home. Mom and Dad lived in Phoenix, and it took three days to get to Clearfield, Pennsylvania. Meanwhile, Pap, when he was awake and lucid, kept making the same garbled and unidentifiable sounds. Everyone knew he was trying to say something he felt was important, but no one knew what. He hung on for three days. The doctors were unable to understand what was keeping him alive. My mother arrived and when Pap saw her, his eyes sparkled for a moment and he managed to gasp a crisp, clear "Eleanor!" and then repeated his garbled message. Somehow, she understood! "Dad, are you telling us, 'Take good care of Mother'?"she asked. His answer, with a sigh of relief, was clear and crisp, "God damn right!" That night at 11:00 pm, he died.

 

Planning Ahead This is probably my very last song, It's something I want you to know, What Dad and I decided to do, When Death's Angel came to blow. Nurses checked on us often, The doctor checked on us too, No one wanted to tell us how soon, One would be checked . . . not two. We tried to get each other ready, To cope with the days ahead, When one of us would be living, And the other one would be dead. Many nights we lay talking, While holding each other close, Not knowing which of us, Loved the other the most. We sat side by side on the sofa, While tears trickled down our face,   After sixty two years of loving, We wanted to leave with grace. Our cemetary plots were waiting, The markers already in place, Ready for one or the other, No matter who won the race. We would shed no tears in public, Just reserve them all for our bed, Dad didn't want any flowers, I wanted a few, mostly red. Dad and I knew you loved us, Though you all lived far away, We knew we had raised you proper, And knew that proper you'd stay. Now that Dad has left me, I remember some things he said, No songs, no tears at the funeral, No gun salute for the dead. Sitting there at the funeral, I almost went into a trance, I gazed at Dad's face in the casket, Felt Buddy's touch, saw his glance. I still reach out to touch him, When the hours of night grow long, I know he is no longer beside me, The emptiness tells me he's gone. November 20, 1979