Monday, September 03, 2018

Farewell to My Parents

I'd not mentioned we scattered my parents' ashes on Monday, August 27th. Since my father died in 2013 and mom died in April of this year, we figured we should get to it before the weather turned.

Anyway, because of wildfires, we abandoned our original plan to bury their ashes together in the forest. We decided that the West Eugene Wetlands would be a nice substitute so Darrel Perkins, Adam Perkins, John Dasef, and I went to the Checkermallow Access off Royal Ave. Of course, I forgot to take pictures, but nobody else remembered either. I went back today to get a few shots of the area.

Because I'm me, I had to have a few words to say for each of Adam, Darrel, and me to say. Here's the text of what was said, who read it, and what it means.

For Mom: When mom was born her father was away somewhere doing his work as an engineer (not train, but construction or something or other). When he heard of mom's birth, he sent a telegram to his family. Adam read it when we scattered the ashes.

The Birds have a "hope" for the spring time.
The Bees have a "hope" for them too.
And, I, like the others, to make this rhyme,
"Iva Hope" and it's you.

I think that's an incredibly sweet and creative rather than "Heard daughter born. Name her Iva Hope."

Next, Darrel read from "The Stag" by Robert Burns. Mom had to memorize this poem when she was in school. She was proud of the fact that she could remember most of it nearly 80 years later. She even wrote it out on her yellow pad. She'd also listed all the states on another page. She knew if she didn't work her brain, it'd quit on her, so she did crossword puzzles and challenged her memory. That's why we included a part of this poem for her. Darrel did this reading.

The Stag Hunt
Sir Walter Scott (1771–1832)

From “The Lady of the Lake,” Canto I.
THE STAG at eve had drunk his fill,
Where danced the moon on Monan’s rill,
And deep his midnight lair had made
In lone Glenartney’s hazel shade;
But, when the sun his beacon red
Had kindled on Benvoirlich’s head,
The deep-mouthed bloodhound’s heavy bay
Resounded up the rocky way,
And faint, from farther distance borne,
Were heard the clanging hoof and horn.

I could have read any of the Tales of the Texas Boy stories for my father, but those were all from his childhood. I had also written this poem. It was published in a magazine for retired military. It's around her someplace. But I did have the text, of course. I read this.

Signin' Up

"Free school" the sign said. I never heard of such a thing.
But Red and me, we moved on. We picked tomatoes in the fields.
We drove from place to place, seein' what we could.
Across Highway 66, we seen a lot along the way.

My brand-new Ford ran smooth, but after awhile we heard the news.
Germany didn't look too good. Pa said there'd be war.
So, we went off to Denver with those two blonde-haired gals.
I handed them the keys and told them take the car to Amarillo.

Me and Red joined up, but Pa said don't sign 'til they told me what I'd do.
Red signed ahead of me and he went off and peeled potatoes.
Me, I just hung around 'til they said, how about San Antone?
That was good with me, so I signed on the line and got the uniform.

I ended up on a ship, heading out to Manila Bay.
But, it was December 7th and the ship turned round along the way.
Nobody said what was goin' on, but they give me a coupon for the train.
I headed up to Seattle and, along the way, I heard the news.

I might've got to the Philippines and been killed on Corregidor.
As it is, I watched for the Japs along the Pacific shore.
And that girl seemed just right to marry.
So at the end, I ended up in Oregon workin' the big trees.

If it hadn't been for Pearl Harbor, where would I have gone?
Maybe that free school down in Fresno.
Maybe I'd signed up to ride fence down at a ranch.
Maybe I'd worked the oil fields like my uncle John.

But the world was what it was and I married that Oregon gal.
I saw the big trees and I liked the logging.
I stayed and sent money to the folks. Come on up, I said.
Where would I have gone, if it hadn't been for Pearl Harbor?


  1. Beautiful ceremony, Marva. I love the picture of the Texas Boy and his Oregon gal all grown up with their happy faces.

  2. Never fear, dear.
    You'll see'm again
    in Seventh-Heaven someday...
    if they believed which
    Im puh-retty sure they did
    being from the generation
    of old where it was nearly
    impossible not to...
    God bless your indelible soul.
    God bless you with discernment.
    Cya soon...