Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad. This is their wedding announcement as it appeared in their local newspaper 63 years ago. (Click on the announcement to enlarge it.) August 23rd is their big day. They are both doing well–he with his tomato plants and watering schedule, she with her morning walks and reading. I hope they have a really nice day.
Patrick and Libby, Christmas 1999, Coeur d’Alene. Happy Anniversary!!! Hope you have a great day together.
Tousleys strike again. We are in a practical joke war with some friends, the Tousleys. I found this on my refrigerator after their daughter’s piano lesson. I have a photo of our last work on them, but you’ll have to use your imagination. Our next move is brilliant–so watch out, Tousleys!!!
It’s Nicholas and Tiffany-Ann’s eighth anniversary. Whatdaya say we celebrate!
Happy Birthday Joyce!!! (August 16)
I had a lot of fun riding and walking the Oregon Beaches with you. We should try it again one more time before we’re too old and stiff. Both of these photos were taken the during our first ride down the coast.
In Letchworth State Park, New York.
And obviously, Yellowstone, in our usual pose.
I hope you have a really nice birthday.
To Dad on his 90th Birthday (thanks to Joyce for the photo)
For your birthday, dear Dad, I will endeavor
To write a short poem, though I’m really not clever.
To be there in person would really be swell,
Your life in short verses, instead, I will tell.
You learned to ride a bike while young,
Tall wheel in front—behind, a small one.
A few years hence, a one speed beckoned,
“I’ll ride to Pincock Hot springs!” You reckoned.
The bike was heavy, the tires were fat.
Upon its seat you sat and sat.
Chewing your gum, chewing away,
No drink for you that hot summer day.
Up a hill, up a hill, up a hill you did go!
Was there a downhill? I don’t think so.
With nothing to drink, or eat, you did ride.
“On to the swimming hole! Onward!” you sighed.
The winters in Driggs are long and they’re cold.
But skiing and ice skating didn’t get old.
Behind the car you skied like the wind.
On Donner, on Blitzen! You grinned and you grinned.
You skied, dodging telephone poles left and right.
Onward you slid, nearly into the night.
The snow–it was deep and it froze your toes,
Your hands, your teeth and sometimes your nose.
To Alaska you traveled by boat with the troops,
And over the waves you went loop-d-loop.
To serve our country in time of war,
You followed the cold from shore to shore.
On ocean’s edge you built docks with care,
All the while watching for Kodiak bears.
Your service over, you returned to your home,
To buy your dream shop, and never more roam.
A cute young nurse caught your eye one day,
Soon you’d be meeting at Lois’s cafe.
She thought you were fine–she loved to tarry
At Lois’s, and soon you would marry.
Soon you had some kids of your own,
Joyce, Allan, and me, and we weren’t on loan.
You taught us to fish, and to hunt nightcrawlers,
When they broke in our hands, we’d holler and holler.
Elk Billiards was quite a name for a store,
But it was much, yes, much much more.
A center for gossip, for pool and for candy,
Some vet goods and skis and overshoes plenty.
One day you saw something gone in your store
The Baby Ruths, all nearly stacked near the door.
You put on your thinking cap, became a sleuth.
And soon you discovered the horrible truth.
A packrat came calling to visit at night,
It ate the candy; it ate it alright!
The end of that story I never did hear,
To learn it might bring me a sigh, or a tear.
You know, legend has it the fish are afraid
When you stand on the bank in the sun or the shade.
Just the thought of your glance makes them quiver with fright!
Afraid they have seen their last morning’s light.
Uncle Bob, it is known, liked to fish with you dearly,
Not a thing could he hear, not really, not nearly.
The best stories are told by those witnessing glory.
Uncle Bob and you tended to make the best story.
In the winter you liked to fish on the ice.
That’s really not pleasant, it’s not really nice
To feel the cold, but nothing compares
To beautiful mountains and crisp winter air.
At Grandfather’s table you played mean Canasta,
As a partner in cards, no one can out last you.
The game has changed from Canasta’s one hand.
Hand and foot is now played all over the land.
Snow skiing behind a car–it was fun,
But water skiing you did not shun.
to Palisades we all went a boating,
You skied on one ski, but seldom with gloating.
The decades came, the decades passed,
The decades flew by way too fast.
When riding by you on my trusty white bike,
I felt like I was back on my trike.
You rode like the wind
You rode–you did sail.
When riding with you
The rest only paled.
Today you turn 90, so go eat your cake,
Today we salute you, wise man of the lake.
Please know that we love you, we love you, we do.
And look forward to ninety-on, ninety-two….
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The Keeper’s House, Owl’s Head Light, Maine. Thanks to Ginny for moving to Maine and giving us reason to visit often.
