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Newspaper Clippings from Fay Oxley

Fri, 05/12/2023 - 7:00am by Harlady

These are some newspaper clippings that were provided to U S Legacies Magazine by

Opal Fay Albin Oxley

3/9/1923 – 1/6/2011

Birdseye, Indian

 

National Nursing Home Week

 

May 14, 2023 – May 20, 2023

 

“Friends of the Aged”

 

Blessed are they that understand

My faltering step and palsied hand

 

Blessed are they who know my ears today

Must strain to hear the things they say

 

Blessed are they who seem to know

My eyes are dim and my wits slow

 

Blessed are they who look away

When Coffee spilled on the table today

 

Blessed are they with a cherry smile

Who stopped o chat for a little while

 

Blessed are they who never say . . .

“You’ve told that story twice today”

 

Blessed are they who know the way

To bring back memories of yesterdays

 

Blessed are they who make it known

That I’m loved, respected and not alone

 

Blessed are they who now I’m at a loss

To find the strength to carry the cross

 

Blessed are they who ease the days

On my journey home in loving ways.

 

___________________________________________________

 

Memorial Day – 1964

 

By Joe Adams

 

Across the land is heard the roll of drums,

The rhythm of the mournful measured beat;

And from a distant, brooding hill there comes

The sound of Taps, nostalgic, bitter-sweet.

 

Let not the lure of sport, the rush and roar,

Distract us from the reverence we owe

The hallowed dead whose spirit hovers o’er

These honored graves and crosses, row on row.

 

And, as in grateful memory we pay

Our homage, let this epitaph e writ;

The Flame of Freedom still burns bright today

Because so many gave their lives for it.

 

Thus, there shall sound in this year’s threnody

An added note of sorrow and lament

For the tragic loss of John F. Kennedy.

Apostle of peace . . . and martyred President.

_______________________________________________________

 

Forty

 

by Rea Duncan

 

Once this seemed so old,

so old,

A plight that I would

never share;

A fate for others; never

mine.

But now it’s here and I

am there.

 

How did I come so far so

soon
So man turns I took

were wrong.

So any roads climbed

hard uphill.

So many shortcuts

turned out long.

 

Ahead the road lies

straighter now

With ripening fruit to

reap and tend.

I do not covet youth, just

time

More time before this

sweet road’s end.

 

________________________________________
 

Memorable Gettysburg

 

Distant hills . . .

Lush valleys . . .

Flowered meadows . . .

Immortal stones . . .

Sacred ground!

 

A silent landscape! . . .

Turn your face to the earth

Put your ear to the ground

A muted voice tells a listening heart!

All hell broke out.

 

The South charged from the North,

The North from the South.

Fifty times a thousand men

Gathered and fell.

Who was right?

Who . . . wrong?

 

My flesh comes from the North

My blood from the South . . .

I reverence, I bow my head

Soil rich, Holy Land

Shared by Gray and Blue.

– Robert W. Loretz Jr.

Stony Brook, N.Y.

____________________________________________

 

We just received this from a friend in Phoenix, Arizona. It appeared in the Phoenix Gazette.

 

“I died for you today, my friends, in the slime in Vietnam.

“If you’re concerned, to say the least, I’ll tell you who I am.

“I’m the soldier and the sailor; I’m the airman and Marine,

“I’m the lifeblood of your nation – you have sent me to this scene.

“I’m the one who loads the amtracks. I’m the pilot just as well.

“I’m the dedicated corpsman saving Leathernecks who fell.

“I’m the trooper of the Airborne, I’m the Seabee with a trade,

“I’m the wiry Army medic dodging steel to give first aid.

“I’m the gunner in the choppers, I’m the crew chief and the crew,

“I’m the cannoneer and mortar man in the field defending you.

“I’m the man of different races clinging to a rumbling tank,

“I’m Catholic, Jew and Protestant, and I serve in every rank.

“Call me Cohen, Smith or Kelly or pronounce my foreign name,

“And regardless of my color when I’m hurt I bleed the same.

“I’m Indian and I’m Mexican, I’m Polish, Dutch and Greek,

“But I’m every inch American, and you freedom’s what I seek.

“I’m the southern boy from Florida, I’m the northern lad from Maine.

“I’ve toiled in Georgia’s orchards, and I’ve cut Montana’s grain.

“I came from every walk of life, from mansions to the slums,

“I’ve seen the Bell of Liberty, and I’ve heard the fife and drum.

“I’m the rancher and the miner, I’m the farmer from the plain,

“I’ve lived, by God, through dust and drought, and I’ve prayed out loud for rain.

“I’ve known hardship and depression – still, I’ve seen our country grow,

“And when Uncle Sam came calling I was proud that I could go.

“Now I’ve watched these demonstrations, and the marchers who protest,

“And I said ‘Thank God for freedom – why, my country’s still the best.’

“So take your banners and you slogans, raise your placards to the sky,

“I’ll defend your right to do it – though in doing so I’ll die.

“I’m your fathers, sons and brothers, I’m the arm of Uncle Sam,

“And I died today for you, my friends, in the slime of Vietnam.”

_____________________________________________________

 

Diary of an Unborn Child

 

Oct 5 – Today my life began. My parents do not know it yet. I am as small as a seed of an apple, but it is I already. And I;m yo be a girl. I shall have blond hair and Azure eyes. Just about everything is settled though, even the fact that I shall love flowers.

 

Oct 19 – Some say that I am not a real person yet, that only my mother exists. Bit I am a real person, just as a small crumb of bread is yet truly bread. My mother is. And I am.

 

Oct 23 – My mouth is just beginning to open now. Just think, in a year or so I shall be laughing and later talking. I know that my first shall be – Mama.

 

Oct 25 – My heart began to beat today all by itself. From now on it shall gently beat for the rest of my life without ever stopping to rest! And after many years it will tire. It will stop, and then I shall die.

 

Nov 2 – I am growing a bit every day. My arms and legs are beginning to take shape. But I have to wail a long time yet before those little legs will raise me to my mother’s arms, before those little arms will be able to gather flowers and embrace my father.

 

Nov 12 – Tiny fingers are beginning to form on my hands. Funny how small they are! I shall be able to stroke my mother’s hair with them. And I shall take her hair to my mouth and she will probably say, “No, no, do, dear . . .”

 

Nov 20 – It wasn’t until today that the doctor told Mom that I am living here under her heart. O, how happy she must be! Are you happy, Mom?

 

Nov 25 – My mom and dad are probably thinking about a name for me. But they don’t even know that I am a girl. They are probably saying Andy. But I want to be called Cathy. I am getting so big already.

 

Dec 23 – I wonder if Mom hears the whispering of my heart? Some children come into the world a little sick. And then the delicate hands of the doctor perform miracles to bring them to health. But my heart is strong and healthy. It beats so strong and evenly – tup-tup-tup. You’ll have a healthy daughter, Mom!

 

Dec 24 – Today my mother killed me.

_______________________________________

 

 

Good Ole Days
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