Susan's Thursday morning note May 22, 2008 “A Heap O’Living” poem by Edgar A. Guest (Description of a true home)
Good morning out there! Do we say good morning if it’s thundering and lightening? The “aurora” is just now showing her face, barely on the horizon, with no birds daring enough to get out and sing a greeting with her. We have a beautiful little yellow bird that made her presence known yesterday morning. Then she really let us know of her existence (and “bird brain”) by slamming into our window at full speed. I wonder where she is tucked away during the rain? I wish we had the ability to spend an hour given the perspective of the little animals in our yards…to see their “behind the scenes” lives – when they aren’t in our human world! Wouldn’t that be fun? To see which little animal friends hang around together during the night? This week our cats have brought us their personal “gifts” of four little mice now that they thought we would enjoy. And two birds have somehow made their flights right into our home via the sliding door. Now if we could just see where they are during the storm…know what they’re thinking…I would like that!
I read a poem this week, A Heap O’Living, that had memories stirred by most of the lines. I love to read a book or poem that gives me memories…that ties seasons of life together…they remind me of the line by Bess Streeter Aldrich, “and the years glide by“…I hope you enjoy this, too!
It takes a heap o’livin’ in a house t’ make it home,
A heap o’sun and shadder, an’ ye sometimes have t ‘roam.
Afore ye really ‘preciate the things ye lef’ behind,
An’ hunger fer ’em somehow, with ’em allus on yer mind.
It don’t make any differunce how rich ye get t’ be,
How much yer chairs an’ tables cost, how great yer luxury;
It ain’t home t’ ye, though it be the palace of a king,
Until somehow yer soul is sort o’ wrapped round everything.
Home ain’t a place that gold can buy or get up in a minute;
Afore it’s home there’s got t’ be a heap o’ livin’ in it;
Within the walls there’s got t’ be some babies born, and then
Right there ye’ve got t’ bring ’em up t’ women good, an’ men;
And gradjerly, as time goes on, ye find ye wouldn’t part
With anything they ever used – they’ve grown into yer heart:
The old high chairs, the playthings, too, the little shoes they wore
Ye hoard; an’ if ye could ye’d keep the thumbmarks on the door.
Ye’ve got t’ weep t’ make it home, ye’ve got t’ sit an’ sigh
An’ watch beside a loved one’s bed, an’ know that Death is nigh;
An’ in the stillness o’ the night t’ see Death’s angel come,
An’ close the eyes o’ her that smiled, an’ leave her sweet voice dumb.
Fer these are scenes that grip the heart, an’ when yer tears are dried,
Ye find the home is dearer than it was, an’ sanctfied;
An’ tuggin’ at ye always are the pleasant memories
O’ her that was an’ is no more – ye can’t escape from these.
Ye’ve got t’ sing an’ dance fer years, ye’ve got t’ romp an’ play,
An’ learn t’ love the things ye have by usin’ ’em each day;
even the roses ’round the porch must blossom year by year
Afore they ‘come a part o’ ye, suggestin’ someone dear
Who used t’ love ’em long ago, an’ trained ’em jes’ t’ run
The way they do, so’s they would get the early mornin’ sun;
Ye’ve got t’ love each brick and stone from cellar up t’ dome:
It takes a heap o’ livin’ in a house t’ make it home.
Edgar A. Guest (1881-1951)
Thank you, again, for making the trips from out of town over to our store, for letting your kids play here, and for your business and suggestions. We love to be here & love to add new books and gifts for you. Don’t ever not read – books are cheaper than a pizza and may change your life! Have a great day, enjoy the rain, and enjoy the sound of our little kids’ voices coming home for good this afternoon for the summer. Don’t forget to look up to the skies in your prayers, your help & peace are only a glance away. Susan
Latin for this week: Nullus est instar domus – There is no place like home.