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.
_______________________________________
- Log in to post comments