When my dad retired, we threw a big party for him. I wrote a poem in tribute to him and read it at the gathering. He lived a difficult decade after that retirement with one health issue after another slowing him down. But, his hearty hugs and sweet nature were always alive and well… and remembered with love and gratitude.
Here’s that retirement poem. It tells you a lot about my hard-working, loveable dad.
A Tribute to Dad on His Retirement
Tonight we’ve come together To celebrate the start Of the Third Phase in my dad’s life. In the Second, most of you played a part.
The First Phase was in Newman Where Salvador came-a fraum-a. His childhood was filled with girls, Five sisters and his mawm-a.
“My Salvador can-a marry anybod; So all you girls look out-a!” He picked and chose an outta-state blond. “No Catholic? No Italian?” they shout-a.
They bought a house in Newman. Dad delivered milk and bread. But then he went to Frank’s garage And worked on cars instead.
My sister, “Saleen”, came along, And then before you knew it, “Gaetano” was expected next, But “Janet” came and blew it!
So, what-a you think? My Salvador Izza back where first he start-a… Heeza surrounded by girls-a, a wife and kids. Mama Mia! Life, sheeza hard-a!!
To make things worse, the war began. Mom worked at the Bomb Plant And Dad got into this Plant here. Now life took a new slant.
The Second Phase had just begun: Joe, Leo, Melio, and Gene Had pooled resources with Dad To sweep the valley clean.
The Tallow Works was something new. They chose the name Pacific. We moved out to a barren field And a smell that was less than terrific.
Our home said, “Office;” the phone rang From early morn ’til night. Business boomed while Dad drove truck. He treated the farmers right.
I used to go with Dad in summer To Stockton’s butcher shops. We had a blast together then. With me, Dad was always tops!
The plant-a, she grew-a; the family, too. We needed a change. You believed us. So we moved to Turlock, into a new home. And Merle came and relieved us.
Through all the years Dad drove the truck, The wheel and road were part of him. And then Pacific sold to Petersen. Don’t you think that was smart of him?
Now he could reap the Union checks, And get a feel for the other side. He left the headaches, but kept the friends And the route; so he’d have to ride.
But now the ride will go new routes. The Third Phase has begun. Dad’s ready for a well-earned rest, ‘Cuz his Second Phase was WELL DONE!
Do you think he can rest? Has he learned how? I’ve never seen Dad sit and shirk. I’ve never seen Dad happy doing not a thing. I’ve always seen Dad at his work.
Of course there were times when he had to slow down: God tapped on his shoulder and said, “Here’s a wrist break, intestines, something one wrong. Now rest for a while in your bed!”
The message came through that thick head of his, And he slept for a moment or few. But (praise be to God) he enjoyed Bocci Ball And had time for a play day or two.
So Phase Three will have to be free To play at some things old and new. Free to learn how to just come and sit And simply admire the view.
He’ll still need his friends (you folks sitting here), And he’ll still work and get behind the wheel, But he’ll have time to do and go where he wants, He and Mom … in their new automobile.
I hope that you here will join me now: Stand! Let’s toast to my Dad; he’s our friend: “May retirement bring health, laughter and joy, May you live to a-hundred and ten!”
God Bless You, Dad! Thanks for being YOU!
Rest in Peace Salvador DeAngeles May 14, 1911 – April 8, 1995
Happy Father’s Day! Have a Lovely Sunday… And I hope you remember your daddy with love and kindness and fond memories. If he is still with you, treasure his hugs… and give him an extra hug from me.
What do you do while the clothes are fluffing in the dryer and you are waiting before taking them out to fold them?
Do you have paper and pens, color crayons and chalk sitting on your table where you’re waiting to fold clothes?
I do.
I love to write Acrostics while waiting in the laundry room for the clothes to fluff so I can fold them wrinkle free.
Here are a few of mine. You can guess the topic knowing these were created within the last four months.
ANTICIPATING OWEN 2/14/24
O ur W onderful E specially N ew
P resent U plifting us: P up!!
Screenshot
POOPY OWEN 3/18/24
P lease O bey, O wen! P oop Y our shit O utside W hen E ver N ecessary!
Please, Lord, help us figure out how to train this puppy to go outside – and to come when called!
OWEN LEO:HE’S LEARNING! 4/20/24
O odles of fun W hen he behaves E ven when he forgets, he N ever ceases to bring joy!
L et us be patient and E ncourage his good behavior. O wen is such a love!
FUTURE PLANS 6/7/24
F irst U p: T rouble erupted U nder our noses R eally sad E vent happened P up Owen died L anding outside the window A ttached to his leash N oose around his neck S uffocated, hung himself.
Where do we go from here? How do we keep living in this empty, vacuous house without Owen? He filled all the empty spaces in our home and hearts. We are devastated. Can’t think future plans right now.
DON’T GET STUCK 6/14/24
D isasters O ccur N ightmares T raumatize G oodness E nters T hrough S ensitive T rusting U nderstanding C aring K indred Spirits
We have been so blessed this week to have the love and hugs, flowers and cards, calls and caring of so many of our family & friends. They have encouraged us to grieve, of course, but “Don’t get stuck.” In Owen’s sweet memory Move On… Laugh again, Love again, Rejoice again, Snuggle again with Another Boston Terrier.
We’re not quite ready yet… But God is helping us heal. Thank you, God’s angels. We love you!
Where are you looking? Let’s forget the former things – Don’t dwell on the past.
Remember the good, Learn from all of your troubles, And focus on the now.
Strength and Grace, a daily devotional from Guideposts, is one of my morning rituals. My last post, “Whatever is Lovely,” also was inspired by this publication.
Today I am exploring the subjects of love and memory, and asking myself, “Where ya lookin’?”
I am remembering the time I was lookin’ to the right when I shoulda been lookin’ straight ahead. I walked into our car’s hatchback. It was comin’ down – and obviously I didn’t realize it!!
I am remembering the time I was dashing out of the car to go into a local restaurant to meet my granddaughter and her children. I was looking ahead when I should have been looking down … at my feet … at the curb. I tripped over it. Broke my pinky finger big time!
Ouch! I am remembering the time I was stepping up into the house from the garage and I didn’t step up far enough. I fell backward and hit my head on the metal hitch of the trailer. Eight stitches later I shoulda been lookin’ where I was steppin’!!
There’s a time to look up. There’s a time to look back. There’s a time to look ahead. But ALL THE TIME we should Look out! Look at the NOW. Live in the present – And look to live longer, healthier, happier, safer.
Father, in Your mercy, rescue me from myself, from my carelessness. Help me look to You for guidance and help me slow down, live in the now, and watch where I’m goin’! Amen
Owen Leo Beekman Born 7-24-23 on my 85th birthday! (We’re both Leos!!)
Just look at that face! Doesn’t he look innocent?
Guess again! That “Ducky” used to have a head!
First to go at the expert chewing of our destructive pup was the beak… then the whole head!
And next, the wings had to come off, and all the stuffing out of the body!
So, I cut the limp body off of the rope, and as you can see, he loves his rope!
We’ve had Boston Terriers all of our married life, 62 years worth, with about six different pups in those six decades. But none was as destructive as this guy!!
See that collar on him? It is to prevent him from pulling the stitches out from the surgery he had last Monday.
Suppose getting him neutered will calm him down? We hope so!!
He really is a sweetheart… when he’s asleep! But he is such a live wire when he’s awake… Always into something! Will not sit still in Bob’s arms to have his toenails trimmed the way our last Boston, TazE, did!
But, Owen’s just 10 months old today… and so he is still learning, still a puppy. Give him time, huh? Owen is destined to be an angel…
We just pray that he makes that transition while he is still here on earth. Right?
My mom loved poetry and she saved those she liked the most when she saw them in the newspaper back in the 1930’s. I have the cardboard on which she taped her favorites.
It’s inside my kitchen cabinet door. So faded you can just barely read it. The date says 1936! One of my favorites of that collection is:
My dog is a nuisance, an absolute pest, With him in the house there is truly no rest. He leaves dirty tracks on the mirror-bright floor, And scratches the paint from the tidy front door.
He slobbers his water and spills half his food; The rugs are all gnawed and the slippers are chewed. He sheds tufts of hair and he scatters his fleas; He buries his bones under bushes and trees.
He keeps me awake every night with his yaps; The neighbors all cuss him for spoiling their naps. I’ll stand it no longer. I’m getting fed up. I won’t be a slave for that bothersome pup.
Er, pardon, excuse me – but what did you say? You ask if I’m giving my puppy away? You’ve the nerve to suggest that you’ll take him with pleasure. Well, certainly not – he’s an absolute treasure!
…Margaret Macprang MacKay, poet
Here’s mom… with my dad … back in 1936 At the time she collected those poems, Before my sister and I were born. Aren’t I the lucky one? To have such parents?
Thank you, Mom, for your love of poetry And your love of dogs, and your tolerance. Er, pardon, excuse me, but what did you say? You ask if I’m giving my Owen away?
Well, certainly not! I’ll keep him with pleasure. He’s an absolute treasure!!
National poetry month is wrapping up. Where did April go? I am so glad I was able to hear our state’s poet laureate, Chris La Tray, this month. He certainly inspired me. Have you tried your hand at writing some poetry this month?
Our Advent study in poetry certainly enhanced that ADVENTure this year for me!
Proverbs 16:9
“In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps.”
My morning devotionals in Dec. 2023 have guided my steps in 2024. The Advent team challenged us to “…hold space for our weariness and our joy… seek a thrill of hope in our hurting world… cry out for comfort… and find many ways to rejoice.”
This is the poem Rev. Sarah wrote to kick off the theme that has inspired my 2024 thus far:
So, unzip the weight you carry around, and let God inspire you also to rejoice in this weary world!
My response to that poem was to let Rev. Sarah Speed inspire me to write my own “The Last Time I Saw God”
The last time I saw God face to face I opened the bedroom shades. God was every color of orange. I was merely a mortal in awe of it all.
The sun was just rising over the Madison Range. God was in the sunrise. I climbed my sanctuary stairs. God was waiting there for me; He was the brightest yellow.
The time before that, A three-year-old was explaining her understanding of love. God was the brightest red in her precocious explanation. Love is helping others – being kind.
And in between these small gifts were glimpses of God in the warm morning hug, the gathering of church friends, the joy of guitar accompaniment, and the sound of congregational singing.
Why yes, we are blessed. We are more than blessed for the moments when God appears and speaks through the purple haze in a voice sweet as morning dewdrops, “Listen, my beloved, I am with you. See me, my beloved, I am here in your every breath.”
That was not the first nor will it be the last time I will see and hear God.
When is the last time you saw God face to face? Write about it! God bless you!
Yesterday I attended a meeting at the EllingHouse in Virginia City, MT where our Montana Poet Laureate, Chris La Tray presented his poetry.
My post yesterday told you a little about him. I went expecting to be inspired. I was not disappointed.
He shared his history and read poems from his books. I bought the “One Sentence Journal” and my friends, Ann & John, bought his book of Haiku & Haibun (which they let me borrow for a few days).
Chris explained that Haiku does not have to strictly adhere to a syllabic count of 5-7-5 because after all, it often is translated from its origin in Japanese… and so, of course, the English version won’t have the same number of syllables. But it does have those same tell-tale three lines.
My favorite from his haiku collection was the one that got a hearty laugh last night, just as he told us it tickles the fancy of school children when he shares it with them. Shows you where my maturity level is, right? Or maybe it is reminiscent of finding our puppy’s mess in the house – ah, house training is such a challenge!
bare feet skilled at finding cat puke in the dark
Mike Gibbons wrote the preface to Chris’ #2 book. In his commentary he said, “… take your time with this book, these seasonal discoveries in American haiku form. Spare and compact poems are best consumed slowly, thoughtfully, just like the Buddhist tradition they sprang from, snapshots – bird tracks on snow.”
I like that… “bird tracks on snow.” Do you relate?
In both of his books, Chris La Tray separates the writing into the four seasons. This one would be in the winter section, of course.
fresh snow and ice the bleary party-goer turns for home
Haibun is a poetic form that includes a prelude in prose followed by a haiku. Here is one of my favorites from HIs book #2.
“A visit to Walden Pond with swimming. The trees surrounding the pond are red and gold and green and every shade in between. Leafy reflections ripple across the surface of the water. I feel no less reverent for having visited before. In the year’s final quarter it remains hot and humid, and the beach is populated with swimmers. Who am I to resist?”
face down the naturalist writes our world
This “naturalist” is a proud member of the Little Shell Tribe of Chippewa Indians. He lives near Missoula, Montana. His writing reflects his Native American background, his love of nature, his talent in the art of short-form poetry, and as one reviewer said, “his humor, sensitivity and clear eye for ‘what is’…” (Holly Wren Spaulding).
I thank the Whites for inviting me and allowing me to share this delightful evening with them. I’m gonna go now and curl up with his “One-Sentence Journal.” See ya later.
