Okay, I am trying to not go really mushy on everyone, but I have been reading poems of inspiration. I read these two poems and thought about my aunt and uncle. I hope you all read them, maybe they will give you some inspiration like they did me.





When you're lost in the wild and you're scared as a child, And death looks you bang in the eye; And you're sore as a boil, it's according to Hoyle To cock your revolver and die. But the code of a man says fight all you can, And self-dissolution is barred; In hunger and woe, oh it's easy to blow-- It's the hell served for breakfast that's hard.
You're sick of the game? Well now, that's a shame! You're young and you're brave and you're bright. You've had a raw deal, I know, but don't squeal. Buck up, do your damnedest and fight! It's the plugging away that will win you the day, So don't be a piker, old pard; Just draw on your grit; it's so easy to quit-- It's the keeping your chin up that's hard. It's easy to cry that you're beaten and die, It's easy to crawfish and crawl, But to fight and to fight when hope's out of sight, Why, that's the best game of them all. And though you come out of each grueling bout, All broken and beaten and scarred-- Just have one more try. It's dead easy to die, It's the keeping on living that's hard. Robert W. Service


J maybe this will help you with understanding how us women in this family work. We will stick with our men through thick and thin. We hold on to what we want.

As the tide went out she found him Lashed to a spar of Despair, The wreck of his Ship around him-- The wreck of his Dreams in the air; Found him and loved him and gathered The soul of him close to her heart-- The soul that had sailed an uncharted sea, The soul that had sought to win and be free-- The soul of which she was part! And there in the dusk she cried to the man, 'Win your battle--you can, you can!'
Broken by Fate, unrelenting, Scarred by the lashings of Chance; Bitter his heart--unrepenting-- Hardened by Circumstance; Shadowed by Failure ever, Cursing, he would have died, But the touch of her hand, her strong warm hand, And her love of his soul, took full command, Just at the turn of the tide! Standing beside him, filled with trust, 'Win!' she whispered, 'you must, you must!' Helping and loving and guiding, Urging when that were best, Holding her fears in hiding Deep in her quiet breast; This is the woman who kept him True to his standards lost, When, tossed in the storm and stress of strife, He thought himself through with the game of life
And ready to pay the cost. Watching and guarding, whispering still, 'Win you can--and you will, you will!'
This is the story of ages, This is the Woman's way; Wiser than seers or sages, Lifting us day by day; Facing all things with a courage Nothing can daunt or dim, Treading Life's path, wherever it leads-- Lined with flowers or choked with weeds, But ever with him--with him! Guidon--comrade--golden spur-- The men who win are helped by her!
Somewhere she waits, strong in belief, you in her firm, white hands: Thank well the gods, when she's with you--the Woman Who Understands! Everard Jack Appleton