Tag: sanctuary

#153 I’m a Poet & Don’t Know It
Click image to view full size or download poster for gallery-​quality printing & framing.
This is a high-​resolution pdf & may take a few minutes to download.Find printing tips & framing ideas here.

---

This phrase always makes me smile

The words “I’m a poet & don’t know it” bring back mem­o­ries of my mom, whose birth­day is today, May 26, & of my Uncle Har­vey, who lived to 96 (Mom passed away at 84). He was a dairy farmer, & eat­ing healthy home-​grown veg­eta­bles & drink­ing the fresh­est milk pos­si­ble no doubt con­tributed to his longevi­ty, not to men­tion his cheer­ful spirit.

Uncle Har­vey was Mom’s favorite broth­er, & I could see why. They were always smil­ing, some­times a lit­tle goofy, & were of the high­est integri­ty (as were all her sib­lings & parents).

Mom used to tell me how Uncle Har­vey would some­times inad­ver­tent­ly rhyme a cou­ple words, then exclaim “Hey, I’m a poet & don’t know it.” Just imag­in­ing how he would say that with his great big grin makes me smile.

Train ride to the farm in Indiana

I enjoyed vis­it­ing the farm my mom grew up on (although she yearned for the big city, hence moved to Los Ange­les – I too am a city boy, although I enjoy farms, farm ani­mals & all those crops of fresh veg­eta­bles). Vist­ing the farm in Indi­ana at ages 7 & 10, I recall the clickety-​clackety train ride (we could­n’t afford to fly, & I am so glad for that as the train was a won­der­ful expe­ri­ence); watch­ing my uncle gath­er the eggs, milk the cows, & har­vest the crops. Have you ever had fresh milk straight from the udder? What a deli­cious, whole­some fla­vor. (Chilled would be even bet­ter, but even warm it was unbe­liev­ably deli­cious.) I loved pet­ting the cows, the smell of the hens, watch­ing the pigs roll around in the mud, & hear­ing the roost­er wake us up in the morn­ing (just like in the cartoons).

Flying light bulbs

There were wild things I’d nev­er seen before: light­ning bugs that lit up at night, cater­pil­lars that were big, green & half-​an-​inch in diam­e­ter. Grand­ma made home­made bread & jam like I’d nev­er tast­ed before; now I know why my mom was such a great cook. The farm house was full of antiques like a hand-​crank Vic­tro­la & a pot-​bellied stove. I’ll nev­er for­get bit­ing into a fresh apple right off the tree – not any old apple, but a crab apple. Zowie, that was sour! All the fresh berries made up for it, though.

The only bad expe­ri­ence was the one & only time I’ve had an aller­gic reac­tion to any­thing. I rode with Uncle Har­vey on the trac­tor to har­vest hay, & when I returned to the house I was sneez­ing & itch­ing & break­ing out all over. Baths & oint­ments lat­er, I guess it final­ly went away. I can’t remem­ber when I’ve been so miserable! 

To this day I cher­ish those vis­its to the farm. I real­ized why my mom was such a good, whole­some per­son. (My dad was too, but he was from the city, Chicago.) 

Farm animals

I real­ly love farm ani­mals. When I dis­cov­ered a farm ani­mal sanc­tu­ary here in River­side Coun­ty, Cal­i­for­nia, I imme­di­ate­ly signed up to donate every month. What I real­ly look for­ward to is get­ting a group togeth­er to take a tour, meet the ani­mals & espe­cial­ly hug the blind cow. (Vis­it saler​anch​sanc​tu​ary​.org.)

I cher­ish meet­ing all my aunts & uncles on my moth­er’s side back in Indi­ana (Dad­dy’s fam­i­ly was here in Cal­i­for­nia); the train rides; & expe­ri­enc­ing every­thing about the farm (except the hay). I am grate­ful to have grown up with lov­ing & respectable par­ents – in a way that goes many times over for our mom, for she raised us all by her­self since Dad­dy died when we were still youngsters. 

Happy Birthday Mom

Hap­py Birth­day to my lov­ing, ded­i­cat­ed & always-​smiling moth­er.
I would­n’t want any other.

Hey, I’m a poet & don’t know it!

---

---

---