Wednesday, March 29, 2006

The Martin Clan, circa 1957

Here's the "Smiling"Martin Clan in 1957 - I was 10 or11 years old (just like Penny ). I remember there was a door to door photographer who came and my mother got us all together for this fun picture. ( My dad was probably working ) All of us had big smiles except for that cat that my sister Gay is holding or strangling. We really had the look of a typical 50's family. Barney was probably 16, John 15, Jeanne' 14, Gay 13, Hal 12, and Olen 7 or 8. I'm glad for all the great adventures we shared during this wonderful times of our lives.

Sunday, March 19, 2006

A Date With Grandpa

Grandpa and P.J. on a wonderful evening together.
My letter to P.J.
My dearest P.J.,
I want to thank you for allowing me to escort you to a marvelous event this past Sunday evening.
You were the most eye catching girl in the room Your attire was exquisite.
I watched as others stared in awe at your beauty. You truly have a pulchritudnous physiogomy. It made me proud to be your companion for the evening.
I do hope we will have opportunity soon to have another evening of meaningful discourse.
I pray this epistle finds you content and joy filled.
Lovingly yours, Grandpa

The Original Leprechaun - My Dad

My Get Up and Go Has Got Up and Went

How do I know my youth is all spent?
Well, my get up and go has got-up and went.
But in spite of it all, I am able to grin
When I think where my get-up has been.

Old age is golden, I’ve heard it said
But sometimes I wonder as I get into bed.
My eyes on the table, my teeth in a cup,
My ears in a drawer until I get up.
Ere sleep dims my eyes I say to myself,
Is there anything else I should lay on the shelf?
And I’m happy to say as I close my door,
My friends are the same, only perhaps even more.

When I was young my slippers were red,
I could kick up my heels right over my head.
As I grew older, my slippers were blue,
But still I could dance the whole night through.
Now I am old, my slippers are black,
I walk to the store, but puff my way back.

Since I’ve retired from life’s competition,
I busy myself with complete repetition.
I get up in the morning, dust off my wits,
Pick up the paper and read the obits.
If my name is missing, I know I’m not dead,
So I eat a good breakfast and go back to bed.

My get up and go has got-up and went
But I ready won’t mind when I think with a grin,
Of all the grand places my get-up has been.

Author Unknown—
It's hard to believe on Dad's birthday this past week he would have been 98! Here's to My Dad...
In the year 1908,
A boy was born in Ohio, the State.
His birthday fell on a very fun day,
When the Irish get happy and gaily they play.
This boy, he was a charmer,
He lived with his family, his father a farmer.
He left home at a very young age,
Through the states West through desert and sage.
His life consisted of jobs that were varied.
He was free as a bird til the time he got married.
He worked hard all his life as he raised his kids, seven.
He 's now taken his flight to a place that's called Heaven.
My dad was a kidder and always a wit,
Now telling Saint Peter a limeric, I bet!
On St. Patrick's Day we'll always remember,
My dad with thoughts that are loving and tender.