feb. 4th 2007 email

Katie , If you cannot open this stuff. let me know. I love you. GC

THE STORY OF JANE
Oh where to begin.
We don’t know her beginnings
so we must start from today
and go backwards.

Today, Jane’s 93 year old eyes
have seen and saw and selected
more than all our other friends.
Desease and cures,
War and peace,
Anger and love,
Joy and sadness
Dawns and dusks,
Todays and tomorrows.
A library almost complete
from which she carefully selects
which recorded story to tell with her colorful paintings
of life, liberty and love.
Tell us more, tell us more.
Dear Jane.


Dear Loved Ones,

I was driving to church early this morning and recalled something from my childhood. After a night of listening to the wind howl and then driving along and seeing all the trees that had fallen, I remembered the nights that I laid in bed at the home in which I grew up in and listened to the wind that made the house creak and whistled through the cracks. You may consider this as close to a family heirloom as we can get.

In the " good old days" the newspapers used to publish contests for one thing or another. You could send in your entry and win some small item. A big thing during depression days. Our paper was the good old Chicago Tribune, thanks to Col. Mc Cormick.

My Mom entered a contest one time and won an alarm clock. We were all pretty excited about that. The challange was to write a poem. Who knows what about but there is not a time goes by when the wind comes howling through the trees that I do not recall that poem.

The wind blew through the windows
and the wind blew through the doors.
It even blew beneath the rugs
that lay upon the floors.

One night when Bob was sleeping
now what do you suppose.
The wind came in and blew the buttons
off of his night clothes.

Amen

Bob was my oldest brother.