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Saturday, Apr. 30, 2016

Brazil Buzz

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

We are still searching the property for our lost keys. My sister and her husband joined in the search last week. They combed the area where my loss, no doubt, took place.

I offered a generous reward more than once. With great expectations, they intensified their search. Gilbert and my little sister weren't aware that the reward would only be, a big thank you, if they were to find the much needed hardware. Unfortunately, no keys were found.

I didn't plan on putting them to work during their brief visit, but since I fully fueled our tanks at lunch, therefore; the walk was in order for all of us.

I served a hearty vegetable beef soup and crisp buttered saltines. All of the uniformly cut vegetables were from my garden, except for the carrots.

The root vegetable fell short of producing this year, due to location and

Weather related woes., beyond my control, the same said of my precious turnips.

The angus beef came from Sam's Club.

Gilbert found the bay leaf that I lost and failed to fish out. I offered a fill-up of Mrs. Mary's chowder. The small white china bowls accepted another fill.

Then I brought out a yummy banana cream pie, made from scratch, earlier in the day. We washed it down with sweet tea. My guests commented favorably, in regard to the simple, but tummy pleasing meal.

When Paul arrived home from his job at Sears, he enjoyed the same.

My girl, Tootie Mae Sartor settled for her brand of vittles and I threw in bites of banana, just because. It hit the spot, because she kneeled at my feet when she finished her meal.

I went to bed that night with pleasant thoughts, a chewable Rolaid in my mouth and a smile on my face. It was a very good day.

My sister and I continue to write poetry and enter contests offered by publishing companies that prove to be of good standing.

I am pleased that so many in my family enjoy the art form, as I do.

My mom and her sisters, Bonnie Siner Emmert and Thelma M. Crouse, all wrote poetry, music and song lyrics.

Mother's poetry was truly sad at times. Other times, we laugh uncontrollably at her lighter deliveries.

Aunt Thelma's published hymn, "Give God A Chance" drew much attention and acclaim from the local churches and places where her music was heard.

This week my cousin, Sue Siner Ell sent me her heart songs, as well.

I know most folks, if not yourself, are blessed by someone in your family that write, wrote and or recites poetry, simple and or more advanced forms. That's nice.

Creativity is beneficial to the mind. It can make us happy, as well as, soften our sorrows and touches the lives of others.

My father was of Scottish decent. The Scots celebrated their "patron saint," Bobbie Burns, the gifted poet. Dad could recite most of his works. Yep, he carried quite a bit of pretty words beneath that trademark green cap. Of his recitations, I never tired. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's works was dear to his heart too. "The Village Blacksmith" will be forever etched into my mind, thanks to Dad.

I can't tell you about his homespun verses, because he isn't here to give me permission.

Once upon a time, Paul Baby wrote flowery poetry. I don't know what he was thinking when his pen ran out of ink and the well ran dry. I, in all probability ,could not put it in the paper anyhow.

Several years ago, I wrote a poem that I now have decided to place inside inspirational greeting cards. Paul promises to design the face of the cards. I plan to have them professionally reproduced.

My sympathy cards feature my poem, "When Our Loved Ones Go Home." The face of that card was predetermined by the publisher.

Tonight I leave you, my readers, with the simple verse that I will use in my next card.

I may not sit at your table

I may not join you in prayer

But I am in the background

And I will linger there

I am blessed to be a part of you

If only from afar

My heart will always follow you

No matter where you are

Sometimes in the distance

I hear the echo of your cry

I sense your need I see your face

These tears of mine will never dry

Until the day we both go home

In His trust I will abide

It is my hope and with His help

I shall join you on the other side

Many thanks to the folks that stopped by and called me last week!

I can be reached by phone at 446-4852 or by email at pmlsartor@aol.com.