An unexpected new friend

Hi everyone,
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We enjoyed Thanksgiving at Robin and Tim’s house with good food and togetherness. Tim’s turkey was sensational. Everyone pitched in to make it a special occasion. We missed Jule and Jon, who couldn’t make it, and Jeff and Jennifer, who were too far away.

I also made a new Facebook friend, Nancy Pauly Currie. Her father Bill Pauly and my dad started Glenstone Block Company together in 1945. I used to spend a lot of time at the Pauly farm with my friend Billy. Nancy was his younger sister. So many good memories! We roamed the pasture, the barn, the orchard, always on the lookout for adventure. Once we caught a snake, killed it, and boiled it in an enormous pot that was normally used to scald chickens before plucking. But before we could bring our snake soup to a proper boil, our moms caught us and made us pour out the water and bury the snake.

On another occasion when Billy and I started off on a new adventure, Nancy tagged along and wanted to join us. Billy wasn’t having it so we went over a barbed wire fence that Nancy couldn’t scale. I softened and helped her over the fence but cut my leg in the process. Those were days when people tended to ignore such cuts and scrapes and over time my leg healed. But there must have been a tiny fleck of the wire, or rust, left in my leg, which eventually formed a cyst the size of a small marble. It has been there for seventy years. One or two doctors have asked about it but have agreed with me that it doesn’t seem to be hurting anything. Besides, it’s a great reminder of days and nights on the Pauly farm and adventures with Billy and Nancy.

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24 comments on “An unexpected new friend

  1. The Cyst (for David Harrison)

    Things. they say, all come to dust.
    A barb of wire, fleck of rust.
    But yours alone did dust resist,
    Developed into one big cyst.

    I cannot guess why this was so.
    Why climbing higher brought you low.
    But on this one thing, I insist:
    You history’s writ in that one cyst.

    xxxJane

    ©2016 Jane Yolen all rights reserved

    • Good morning, dear Jane, and thank you for immortalizing my Nancy-cyst! Who knew, when I was a boy struggling with the concept of chivalry, that one day my poor efforts would be rewarded in a Jane Yolen poem!

      • A Response (for Jane)

        Sure it hurt but gallant Dave
        Was busy being strong and brave
        And wouldn’t let a bloody leg
        Make him pause to wince or beg

        To turn around and find a mom
        Who’d treat his wound with soothing balm.
        So on they trudged adventure bound
        And not from Dave a single sound.

        Who knew that time would treat his deed
        By planting in his leg the seed
        Of memories that can’t resist
        Recalling the girl who caused the cyst.

        XO
        David

      • How Does a Wart Taste?
        For Susan

        The wart, of course, was a worry,
        She said to herself with a sigh,
        The size of a plum on her thumb.

        The season had come in a hurry.
        She plunged in her Christmas pie
        And hoped what she tasted was plum.

    • I Insist It’s True

      She was your cyster, that is true,
      And brother, done quite right by you.
      But in return, a foul adhesion
      Left you with a leggy lesion.

      Ask your wife if this old scar
      Has fouled your marriage vows thus far.
      Or if (as you I’m sure insist)
      Are far beyond that teenage tryst.

      xxxJane.

      • All is Forgiven

        My wife it seems has bought my story
        Of youthful zest for love and glory.
        I think she thinks my lump of courage
        Serves as warning to discourage
        Future thoughts to jump the fence.
        As for me, it’s all past tense.

        XO,
        David

  2. For Susan:

    Plum tuckered was she
    from the wart on her thumb.
    She thought that the doctor’s
    advice was real dumb.

    But she bought a plumb pudding
    and gave it a try.
    “Oh doctor!” she cried,
    “What a plum(p) girl am I.”

    xxxJane

  3. LOL!! I just got home from Cheyenne, and am rolling on the floor laughing at my wonderful “wart” poems!! David and Jane – you are the BEST!!!

  4. For David and Jane:

    I answered dear David’s fun blog post,
    Then drove up to Cheyenne to browse.
    Got home and unwound, and that’s when I found
    My personal “wart poems” – oh wow!

    Guess I’ll drive to Wyoming tomorrow –
    Both poems made it equally clear
    To keep warts away from my digits
    I need a plum pudding this year!

    • And as it turns out, my friend, you’re no slouch as a poet yourself! It was fun focusing on your wart, past tense. Thanks for teasing my muse into action.

  5. LOL!! Oh – I used to write a lot of poetry many moons ago. Now I just write when I have the motivation. Weird body ailments apparently brings out my creativity! Ha!

  6. The Worry Wort

    Susan’s a worry wort,
    They worry her so,
    To cure her depression,
    She makes a digression.
    The wart’s on regression
    When she’s on the go.

    You are very welcome, Susan.
    xxx Dr.Dr.Dr. Dr.Dr.Dr. Jane (I have six honorary doctorates,
    but nly now do I know how to cure warts

  7. Jane and David – you two are so funny! (and it’s good to know that you have so many honorary doctorates, Jane. I thought your fingers were stuttering!!)

    Happy Saturday to you both!

  8. A cyst and a wart
    Who really knew?
    As the days passed by
    The poems just grew.

    Three folks having fun
    With pen and prose,
    Will these poems ever end?
    Who really knows?

    I couldn’t help myself! LOL!
    MA MA Susan
    (two masters degrees. Would love to be “Dr. Su” someday!)

  9. But we all know it’s not the degrees hanging on the wall that make a great writer, poet, teacher, etc. It’s what’s in the heart that makes all the difference!

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