My big 65th bday is past and lots of people chimed in and among the flurry of well wishes was this thoughtful poem by my buddy Diana Prizio that I figure no one had a chance to appreciate. So I post it here for your appreciation and her embarrassment. November is a dreary time for the hardiest to hatch, But according to my calendar, this month did raise a batch. Eugene Debs came forth to help the workers in their plight, Sojourner Truth held up a lamp into the dark of night. Georgia OKeeffe, who changed the way the world looked at flowers, And Dorothy Day helped Catholics through the toughest hours. Thurgood Marshall, Shirley Chisholm had no walks in the park; And a man called Twain, our love did gain, as he surely left his Mark. And in the flats of old Ohi, in 1949, Emerged a tiny Douglas Nye (proly akickin and cryin™). And unlike all the others here, Dougs still in the game, For without him our county dear would not feel the same. Doug put the OD in ODLAW, (he was first to note that quirk); To realize the countys name both fro and back can work. He grew up to music make, as tunes he wrote and sang, Nimble fingers a chord could fake, the twang in Boom, Bang, Twang. We find him smiling most days, an optimistic sort, His viewpoint is refreshing, in storm a welcome port. He spent some years entwining twigs, and lovely chairs he fashioned, But Sundays now find him atda church, hes with the Lord impassioned. He still mingles with the pagans, his feet of clay are made. Lets raise a glass to old Doug Nye, and make it lemonade.
Posted on: Wed, 17 Dec 2014 22:12:16 +0000
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