Poetry for Friday

 

 

The Reading Mother by Strickland Gillilan

I had a mother who read to me Sagas of pirates who scoured the sea, Cutlasses clenched in their yellow teeth, "Blackbirds" stowed in the hold beneath. I had a Mother who read me lays Of ancient and gallant and golden days; Stories of Marmion and Ivanhoe, Which every boy has a right to know. I had a Mother who read me tales Of Gelert the hound of the hills of Wales, True to his trust till his tragic death, Faithfulness blent with his final breath. I had a Mother who read me the things That wholesome life to the boy heart brings-- Stories that stir with an upward touch, Oh, that each mother of boys were such! You may have tangible wealth untold; Caskets of jewels and coffers of gold. Richer than I you can never be-- I had a Mother who read to me. When Rebekah attended college she loved and still loves literature. She studied English Literature and this poem had great memories for me and I loved reading it. When she was a high school senior and parents were able to buy some space in the year book and we  dedicated this poem to her. Most all of the parents bought some space and dedicated various things to their high school senior. I worked with two gals who had young kids too and they both assumed the school was responsibile for teaching their children.  We taught our kids many things and we have a large children's book  library to this day at our house. Some of the best memories I have were spending time with a child on a project or reading a book and writing a report with them. When Jeremy was in high school and studies  Religious education we had to write a paper our our marriage and  incorporate it with his. Boy was I made that young teacher did not give him a great grade! I know we had and still have a happier marriage than most of the richy rich parents who sent their kids to that school. I remember the principal at the parochial school telling me, Anne, just because there is a cross on the building, it does not mean there are Christians in it! That Miss McManamon was right on. She was a great person and truly cared about the well being of the children we entrusted her with. A note about the author of this poem Strickland Gillilan.  He was born in 1869 and passed away in 1954. He was born in Ohio.  He started out as a journalist, worked for several newspaper. He had written a humorus poem about Irish railroaders which ended up  in Life magazine and led to swift Natioanl fame.  I believe sometime you are in the right place at the right time.