Profuse Apologies

A little humour from Frank after he and Eva forgot to celebrate their youngest child's birthday during her last year of high school. This poem was given personally to Joyce the next day, complete with this hand-drawn tear-filled face (from a time long before emoticons were invented). 

We are so sorry we forgot

to celebrate with “honey-pot”

her happy birthday for this year;

we love her lots—see here, see here!

But we have each passed one you know,

and as we do, we older grow;

life gets involved as we decline,

in strength and mem’ry, yet we shine

with gobs of love for every one—

for Joycie dear and for each son;

by in-law daughters, we’re so blessed,

and the grandkids, they’re the best!

But, come to think of it, you now

are nineteen, memory sharp, and how!

We wonder though, perhaps did you

chance to forget your birthday too?

fpn/Dec.1976

Forever Adjusting

In today's poem, Pastor Frank muses about birthdays and how we must adjust over time. Eva (Jantz) Nickel, pictured here upon her college graduation, was born on this day in 1915. We honor her birthday today and the way she learned to adjust over a lifetime of faithful service as wife to Frank and mother of eight children. She graduated to glory on May 12, 1996. 

I’m about to have another birthday,
friend of mine—
the proof of growing older
and it’s not the only sign.
No use trying to kid myself 
and say it isn’t so;
the evidence is all too clear,
the indications show.

“Happy birthday!” folks will say;
but nothing much has changed
since youthful days, so long ago,
it’s just been rearranged.
“When you are older,” they’d explain,
“Then you’ll do as you please.”
So birthdays came too slow for me;
I wished for more of these.

That time has surely come and gone,
somehow I can’t recall
when I could do just as I pleased;
was such a time at all?
For I’ve been told time and again,
“Adjust! Adjust! Adjust!”
And more so now—it’s getting worse,
as I begin to rust.

Well, there’s no use complaining,
or wishing back those years;
I’ve tried to make the most of life
through joys and through my tears.
I’ve had a lot of practice at
adjusting in the past;
with that experience, I’ll keep on
adjusting while I last!

fpn/1985



Picture: from the family archives

Birthday Poem

The years may come and go
and as I older grow,
I often wonder
as the past I ponder,
why there isn't more to show.

Some others seem to be
two jumps ahead of me.
Looks like they've made it
and I have had it,
judging by what I see!

I guess I could be wrong--
no need to sound the gong.
If I help others
whom life now smothers,
the world may hear my song.

It's not so much what I
will own- comes time to die,
but who will miss me,
in memory bless me,
when I have said goodbye.

fpn 12/79