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Memories of Springs, Past
by Harry Slocum Tordoff
Just above the village of Greenville, Rhode Island, at the junction of Route #116 and Snake Hill Road, lies the Knight Farm. It covers many acres in apple trees; almost every variety known. There is a beautiful Stand of immense proportions set diagonally across the front corner of the farm, facing the junction.
Until about eight or nine years ago, “Ed” Knight, owner of the farm, used to put on an Apple Blossom Festival every Mother’s Day, and for many years Etna was his soloist. Cousin Martha played a beautiful Baldwin Organ (placed there for advertising purposes) both as Organ Soloist and as an accompanist for Etna’s solos. At each show I read several of my poems which were very well received. WE looked forward to each Spring’s Advent, knowing that Mother’s Day would be a most enjoyable one for all of us.
Ed Knight gave Etna the privilege of selecting her own numbers, which she always made to her liking. This makes a soloist’s work more enjoyable, both for the singer and audience, as a singer of any type can always do a far better job by using numbers that he or she knows and likes. He also told Cousin Martha to do the same with her organ numbers, and she went over big. She also played softly behind my poetry readings, which enhanced them a lot.
Add to all of this the fact that we were standing in the body of the farm Pick-up truck, with apple blossoms over, under, and all around us, with the audience sprinkled throughout the trees and you can appreciate the beauty of the setting. It was breath taking to say the least.
“ED” and his wife are still living, but the Apple Blossom Festival is but a memory of the not-to-be-forgotten past.
Picture
by Albert Lee Moore
There is a picture my mother carries of me;
One we had taken when I was free…
But, looking back at time there’s not much to see;
Just that picture of Mother and me.
Mother was a woman everyone loved,
But to me she was an angel sent from above.
My mother then was sick; they said that she might die…
Now when I look at the picture it makes me want to cry.
Peace and Love
by Edwin Hanna
In this world of right and wrong
There’s some who’ll laugh and some who’ll heed.
But, if you must get along
Peace and love is what we need.
To have a successful life,
Some must follow, some must lead…
But regardless of what you do,
Peace and love is what we need.
Since we all can’t be leaders
And there’s plenty for all to do,
Share your views with someone else
And together you’ll see it through.
In this world of much to do
Some could weed and some could seed.
But whether you wheel, or you deal,
Peace and love is what you need.
Victory
by Ralph A. Fisher, Sr.
Victory was the Mission bells tolling:
Over the desert waste, the caissons rolling.
Victory was the riderless steed… so
A tear fell on the rosary bead.
Re-Birth
by Lois R. Oakes
Isn’t it a wondrous thing
How life begins again each Spring?
The bare old trees that looked so dead
Are filling out with buds instead.
The grass from under cover white
Has once more poked up into sight.
The air is warm… my heart is too,
I feel like I’ve been born anew!
Springtime
by Mary Bishop
There are walls to be wiped
And floors to be scrubbed;
Fresh curtains to hang on the rod.
My cupboards to clean
And closets to tidy;
A garment to make that is “mod!”
But, I’m going to go
Outdoors in the sun
And work in the garden with God.
Poems by Madine M. Johnson
God
Is my
Everything
Lord and Savior
Christ.
Keep
Trusting
Believing
And all will turn
Good.
The Falling of the Leaves
by Harry Slocum Tordoff
Stuart Lowell came down with a Spring cold in late March and couldn’t shake it, no matter what he did. It kept him in its throes all the rest of that Spring and on into the middle of Summer.
By July he begin to lose weight and had become so lethargic that doctors were afraid that it was going into T.B. Their recommendations were that he be placed in a sanitarium, high in the mountains, where the clear, crisp air could be breathed deeply into his body recesses and give him a fighting chance.
His wife, Coral, and daughter Eloise, were given exhaustive tests to make sure there was no evidence of undue congestion or virus activity. The doctors told Coral they did not want to alarm her, but there was a chance that dreaded disease could take hold with she and her daughter, hence these examinations; to be sure.
Stuart was taken to “THE SCENIC VIEW REST HOME” high in the Laural mountains in early August. Doctors on the staff of the “home” (men well versed in the terrible disease they specialized in) found definite evidence of T.B. and warned Coral that it would be unwise to bring the little girl to see “Daddy”; at least for awhile. “This is a fast working strain. WE will do all in our power to combat it, but we must tell you that under normal conditions he can be gone by the time the trees are bare.”
Coral took her little girl into her arms. “Sweetheart, we’ve got to be strong. Daddy is real sick and he needs our prayers. You and I are all he has on earth and we are powerless to help him. WE must pray, Dear… pray long and sincerely.”
“Does it mean that Daddy will die if we don’t?”
“Not really, Dear, but it does mean that God wants to hear from us; your daddy’s loved ones.”
During her visit on the Labor Day weekend, Coral was called into the main office to see Doctor Powers. When she entered the private sanctuary, the doctor met her with a smile. “Mrs. Lowell, I’ve got some good news for you. Your husband has responded to treatment. At this time of year when a patient can go either way, he has shown remarkable evidence of coming back. I think that by the time the trees are bare Stuart Lowell will be in his own home, well on the road to recovery.
Coral breathed a prayer of thanks to Heaven above. “Wait until I tell Eloise,” she said softly.
Short Circuit 2
Published in the interest of amateur journalism by Harry S. & Etna L. Tordoff, for U.A.P.
Cranston, Rhode Island