Trees

Trees
by Joyce Kilmer

I think that I shall never see
A poem as lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.


(Mom recited this poem when she was 98 years old that she had learned as a child.)


This picture was taken around 1950 of Dad, Kathy, and I standing next to a large cottonwood tree that was located at the center of our farm. When I stood under this tree in the summertime as a child, I felt like I was standing in a cathedral. In June 1994, a strong wind blew this tree down. Our memories and stories of our family can also be lost like this tree if we don’t write them down and preserve them for future generations.

The project of writing this book began about five years ago. I think the most valuable part of this process has been talking to Mom about her memories; gleaning information and pictures from the daily record books, photo albums, scrapbooks, and family history books; and sharing of stories between Kathy, Kent, Tom, and me.

At times, I thought this book would never be completed - it seemed so overwhelming to cover a lifetime of memories in a little book. But with encouragement from Mom and additional chapters written by Kathy, Kent, and Tom, the book began to take shape. I also want to acknowledge my family for their support - Paul formatted the book, Julie proof-read and designed the covers, Adam shared his thoughts and ideas, and Gene even wrote a chapter.

Hope you enjoy reading For the Record... Always grateful, Marita (2010)