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FRUSTRATION
Sometimes life seems an awful mess,
Can't figure it out, even make a good guess.
Sister in Texas writes "Too much sun.
A rainy day is a treat for one."
Here in the city, we yearn for old Sol,
Too many dark days about downs us all.
The man at the desk midst the city's strife,
Craves for himself, the rural life.
Country brother thinks it's just not fair,
"Gee, what a swell time they must have in there."
A couple fine, pray for children, even one,
While others get many and wish they had none.
The laughing miss who craves tarlatan gay,
Wears a crisp white uniform today.
The lad who yearned so for Air Corps life,
Gets his chance, but he now has a wife.
And the one who loved and would like to wed,
Gets an Army bunk for himself instead.
So it goes on forever, I would guess,
Sometimes life seems an awful mess.
But it all winds up with a simple sum,
"Dust to dust" for everyone.
Frances Nea1 Thomas, Circa 1941
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Chicago, January 5, 1952
That's Grandad, who was 6'2",
holding me. Grammy, in heels, did her best to reach 5 feet.
It took Grammy several years to convince her mother-in-law that she was
good enough for her son, Carl, but she was finally fully accepted.
Fae and Carl were married 72 years when he passed away. After that her only wish was to join him.
She got her wish a couple of years later, on January 3, 1988, at the age of 97. |
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OLD AGE
My hair is gray, that once was brown,
I know that I am letting down.
The world could easily see the sham
If I act younger than I am.
Fortunately, I have reached the stage
Where I'm content to be my age.
But if to be my age means that
I must talk of all my ills,
The shaky hands that cause the spills,
My brain that is so like a sieve,
And how hard it is these days to live.
Or if to be my age means that
I must talk about a bygone time
When men were stronger, women prettier,
Food better, humor wittier,
Or if to be my age means that
I must snort and grumble at
Whatever isn't cast
Into the pattern of the past.
If this were requisite to gauge
How thoroughly I am my age,
Then being my age will never suit me,
And if it does - Please, just shoot me!
Frances Neal Thomas, 1976 |
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New Year's Day, 1954
Grammy with me and cousins Randy and Neal. I'm not sure she ever saw all four
of her natural grandchildren at one time. |
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| The whole "Thomas" clan 1/1/1954 |
