Just when I thought
I wouldn’t care,
folks who brought me here
can’t be left there.
There’s much I want
to go and do.
I imagine at one time
they did too.
But then I and you
came to be,
and they stayed and cared
for you and me.
Now it’s our turn to watch and tend;
As they did before, we’ll help to their end.
Our household flys a few flags
outside of our doors.
Often just one or two.
Sometimes a few more.
In season there’s Packers, Badgers,
Brewers and Sounders flags, too.
Sometimes there’s an M’s or a “12” banner.
But there’s always the Red, White and Blue.
Old Glory waves proudly
from the dawn’s early light
and on through the sunset and dark,
when we shine her up with spotlights.
No matter what sport we might be cheering or involved in,
our house wants folks to know how much we love our great Nation.
My wife is so patriotic she wrote a book about freedom. Find out about “Restoring Liberty” here.
When I consider
all that may be gained or lost,
I far too seldom
think of the opportunity cost.
Playing soccer or baseball
was never a bad thing,
but I never once asked
what eternal growth they’d bring.
I can think of many times
I went to play in the sun.
But the more valuable games
were those with more than just fun.
It’s the eternal things which must be considered and weighed
to decide if time is well spent, or just frittered away.
Based on a April 2019 General Conference talk by Elder Dallin H. Oaks.
Out on a tree’d hill he stood,
walking in the buggy grass;
never caring he was that good;
never thinking to place high in his class.
‘Neath scaled hickories without effort
(it seemed), he read, wrote, studied.
With his cousins on and in X’d videos he’d cavort,
whether the paths were pulsing, dry or muddied.
He sparred with great wit and thought
as he discussed, with authors, literature.
He pondered and argued upon what he got
from reading ancient and revealed Scripture.
At last, now, as BigEP reaches a good childhood’s end,
Let us salute the brain’d heights of this Salutatorian!
My early life seemed always
to play the same old song.
I lived a decades-long phase
where I was told “You’re wrong.”
Everything I did or said
was corrected or changed.
It at last went to my head.
I felt foolish and deranged.
In my effort to change my life
I took another way.
I dumped corrective strife.
It seemed foolish to stay.
Now I see the truth of my strange and weird way:
I’m at last honest. Now I must be certain of what I say.
When you’re lying in the clover
on a sunny Spring day,
you need not mull problems over;
the world seems far away.
Take off your shoes;
lay down your blanket or quilt.
Cast off your troubles and blues.
Relax yourself without any guilt.
Let your heels connect to Mother Earth.
Grab the moment to fee the sun shine all around.
Drink deep of harmony, peace, joy, healing, mirth.
Harvest insights deep and profound.
Your’re shadowed cuz your sweetheart nuzzled up to your face?
Enjoy the warmth of it all. You’ll never find a better place!
She, alone, stood
and, debating her own best good,
faced down the gaping abyss
of conscious solo loneliness.
She knew another decision would
be, by others, easily understood
if she, reconsidering, stepped back;
let herself be lead down a different track.
She could easily hike hand in hand
through life’s journey with a man
who had never truly got
the greater knowledge and light she sought.
But she turned her vision to a loftier view;
Spread forth her arms, lept out, and flew.
While waiting for her /
to maybe call,/
I hope she’s as pure/
as those who have no gall.
She’s playing with me,/
but I don’t mind./
For a good woman like rubies/
is usually hard to find.
Of course her name/
could belie her personality./
Maybe it’s just a game./
Maybe she’s just BSing me.
Only by waiting her out will I ever discover/
beyond any doubt if she’d be a purifying lover.
I see so many dating profiles where people categorize themselves as being a “Hopeless Romantic”. To such women, I wrote this:
Nobody/
should ever be/
a hopeless romantic./
That would be tragic./
Always be hopeful.
Then life’s more full.
Others will draw near
when we’re full of cheer.
The optimistic me
is who women would rather see.
And it also is true:
I prefer a hopeful you.
It brings me heartfelt sorrow and duress
to watch romantics wallow in hopelessness.
For my family’s Valentine’s Day
I thought I’d make a bouquet
showing our German ancestry
as they crossed the sea.
They departed from Bremen
to seek a new land’s safe haven
on the Sovereign Ship Leipzig:
a two funnel/two mast rig.
In “stearage” the small family came,
Just five with misspelled Geerdts name;
One suitcase each as they came ashore
under Fort McHenry’s watch in Baltimore.
With little more than their love, hope and trust
they paved the way. Happy Valentine’s to us!