Archives: Library

General George Washington

We Met the General
By
Dennis C. Orvis

My wife and I were visiting colonial Williamsburg in Virginia with our daughter, son-in-law and our oldest granddaughter.

We had an early lunch so we could get to the theater to hear General George Washington speak at twelve-thirty. The theater was small and antique. I don’t know if it had been saved or if it had been reconstructed. Either way it was quite beautiful.

As twelve-thirty neared, the theater quickly filled. Shortly before starting time, someone came on stage and advised the audience that General Washington had not yet arrived. The audience waited with respectful patience.

Then about twelve-thirty that same person again appeared on stage and apologetically announced that the General still had not appeared. “This,” he said, “had never happened before and we must therefore cancel this performance.” He made reference to later schedules and refunds.

About eighty percent of the audience in the theater got up and with some grumbling, left the theater. We waited for the aisles to clear, avoiding the rush and then we also started up the aisle to the lobby.

We entered the lobby and about halfway towards the exit, the front door suddenly opened and to our surprise, in walked General Washington.

We were the first to greet him. He asked us, “Where is everyone going?”

We told him his performance was scheduled for twelve-thirty and we were told because he had not arrived, it was cancelled.

Then he told us his performance was always scheduled for one o’clock and he had not been told of the time change to twelve-thirty.

He asked us to wait while he went to see the person in charge of the performance. We followed him back into the theater. The other people still in the lobby followed also.

In a few minutes he took the stage. He briefly made some comments about what happened. He asked everyone to please take their seats and he proceeded to deliver his speech as publicized for his performance.

I made a quick count. There were less than three-dozen people still in the audience including our family of five.

I do not know the name of the actor who gave the speech. But I do know he gave a brilliant performance as he delivered one of General Washington’s great speeches. He spoke to us as if the entire theater was filled to capacity, as it had been only forty-five minutes earlier.

It ended with a standing ovation.

About an hour later the five of us were standing in one of the colonial streets looking, I’m sure, at one of the old buildings.

I happened to notice, General Washington walking on the street in our direction. When he got near us we told him how much we enjoyed his performance. I asked him if I could take a picture of our granddaughter with him. He said yes.

Our granddaughter was wearing a head-cover of colonial days that she bought in one of the gift shops earlier. As you might guess, we cherish this picture.

It was a very special day during a memorable weeklong visit to Colonial Williamsburg Virginia.

June 2010
*****

Morley Safer
By
Dennis C. Orvis

I did not know Morley Safer personally, but I attended a banquet one time and witnessed an interesting Morley Safer happening.

I was the chief paid executive of the Fall River Area Chamber of Commerce in Fall River Massachusetts. Our chamber had a very successful annual project which was a huge banquet honoring a Citizen of the Year. The banquet was always attended by over a thousand people.

Fall River has a large percentage of Portuguese citizens. It also had a Portuguese newspaper.

One year this newspaper announced it was sponsoring a banquet to honor a Portuguese citizen of the year. Shortly thereafter the paper announced that Joe Raposa would be the honoree.

Joe Raposa was one of the individuals that started Sesame Street on television. He was very talented. He wrote the theme song and one of the favorites, “It isn’t easy being green.” He had an extensive list of shows and songs to his credit.

We later learned that Morley Safer was flying in from New York to attend the banquet and introduce Joe Raposa when he receives the award.

I was at the banquet with my wife. I remember clearly when Morley Safer was called to the microphone to introduce Raposa.

Morley looked at the large crowd slowly and then he spoke these words.

“Many people hear music in their heads. Joe Raposa hears music that nobody else has ever heard.”

Then he looked at Joe Raposa. He nodded his head. Joe Raposa got up, walked to the mike and gave a short talk to everyone present after he received the award.

Meanwhile, Morley Safer had quietly returned to his seat at the head table and listened with the rest of us.

I suppose like everyone else, I was expecting Morley to introduce Joe Raposa with some glossy words about his accomplishments. I never heard any explanation of Morley’s short introduction. As one who has been involved with setting up hundreds of banquets, my first thought was probably different than other people.

I thought it was a long way to travel to deliver so few words.

But, on the other hand, that was about forty years ago and I still remember it.

I saw on the news today, Morley Safer, 84, passed away. His passing triggered my memory of this event. It reminded me also, that Joe Raposa died at a young age of 51 years. We are better off because of their time with us.
*****

Meredith and Me
By
Dennis C. Orvis

The Meredith here is Meredith Willson, a native Iowan who grew up in Mason City. I suppose my title might seem to be a little more than presumptuous but there are enough threads of coincidence as you will soon learn, I think, to make it acceptable.

My hometown in Iowa is about sixty-five miles from Mason City. My association with that city was limited to those few high school sports that brought us together from time to time during the school year. Mason City, being three or four times larger than my hometown of Waverly, usually won the football and basketball games.

In 1947, when I was a one hundred and twelve pound wrestler on Waverly’s first high school wrestling team, the District tournament was held in Mason City. I was fortunate to win my first match, but I lost my second match to a kid from Mason City.

However, my first knowledge of Meredith Willson happened in late 1962 in the small Iowa town of Chariton. I had moved my family there in September of 1962 when I was hired as the first full-time Chamber of Commerce Manager for that town.

There was an adult singing group in Chariton called the Aeolians and in the fall of 1962 they performed the first amateur production of the Music Man, written by Meredith Willson. They did it brilliantly. Meredith Willson did not attend, but his aunt who lived in Des Moines, was in the audience. That was over forty years ago and I can still tell the names of six or eight actors in the play that became good friends while we lived in Chariton.

We lived in Chariton almost three years and then moved to Gary, Indiana, as I was beginning to move up the Chamber profession ladder. In the front office of the Gary Chamber where I worked there was a framed record hanging on the wall. It was Meredith’s song, Gary, Indiana, from Music Man.

It seemed that Meredith’s music was following my career. We only lived in Gary for one year and as I have often said later, “I don’t believe Meredith ever visited Gary.” So be it!

From Gary we moved to Mason City Iowa, believe it or not when I was hired to manage the Mason City Chamber of Commerce. We moved there during the first week of June, 1966. On our first Tuesday in Mason City we saw the famous Marching Band Festival. There were over one hundred high school bands from three states. It was wonderful. The bands were loud and talented. The parade was very colorful and exciting.

And What’s more, Meredith Willson was the honorary Grand Marshall. He had come back to his home town for this event. As the new manager of the Chamber of Commerce, I had the opportunity to meet him and along my wife, spend some time that day with him.

Meredith, throughout his life, always claimed to be an Ambassador of Mason City and its Chamber of Commerce. He was so gracious and so very friendly. And he kissed my darling wife on the cheek!

Because of Meredith Willson, Mason City became “River City” of Music Man and that continues still today, over forty years later. Before we moved from Mason City in the fall of 1969, we were privileged to be involved in and enjoy four music festivals. One of them in particular I remember. The Music Festival was under the umbrella of the Chamber of Commerce and as the Chamber manager, it was one of my major responsibilities. One of those years the weather was horrendous. It rained all day. We had over ten thousand band members from over one hundred high schools with their instruments. It was that day we learned that Plan B did not work.

It was impossible to get that many musicians and instruments into the coliseum. I had the first Music Festival parade cancellation in nearly thirty years. Some legacy!

However on the plus side while managing the Chamber I met a man named Jack Leaman. He was the City Planner. We worked together on many projects for the benefit of Mason City. I remember one time we were trying to find and/or create a new logo for the City. By luck or coincidence while searching through some printing books at Murray Lawson’s printing company, we found a small parade of six or seven cartoon musician characters. One of them was playing a trombone. What a great find! It was perfect for Mason City. During the next few months that little trombone player became quite famous. He almost looked like Meredith Willson. Later he was given the name of “Mr. Toot!” His image was soon found on business cards, letterheads, welcome flags and even the city water tower. It was a wonderful match that lasted for over twenty-five years.

A few years after we moved from Mason City to Massachusetts, we returned for a visit during vacation. Unfortunately, it was after Meredith Willson had passed away. But we were thrilled again to see the Music Festival as spectators and even more thrilled to meet Rosemary, his widow at a reception to which we had been invited. She had returned to Mason City for the festival and grand opening of the new Meredith Willson museum.

Several years later, while visiting our daughter and her family in Connecticut, she surprised us by taking us to New York to see the Music Man revival on Broadway. The theater was packed, but I doubt that anyone there could have been more thrilled than we were. It was remarkable.

So as I said in the beginning, there are enough threads of coincidence that I can confidently claim an association with the great Meredith Willson. It has been a beautiful experience and I am proud to further claim, I am a River Cityan!

I can close my eyes today and still see the parade and hear the music. It is still thrilling.

Written May 2007
*****

“In the year 2000 I had the great pleasure of seeing the Music Man on Broadway. This writing describes the impact it had on me.”

“Thumpthin Thpecial”
By
Dennis C. Orvis

The four of us had been standing and applauding since the curtain came down the first time. We were the first ones to our feet. Then the curtain raised again as each member of the cast took a bow and the applause grew louder as the performers’ role merited greater appreciation, reaching rhythmic thunder for MARION and HAROLD HILL.

Many minutes later, who knows how many, the curtain came down again and then suddenly went up for a carefully planned encore for a surprised and joyous audience. And the thunderous applause grew even louder as a full marching band appeared on stage, including all or most of the cast members and surely all of the major players in full dress band uniforms with nearly everyone playing a “trombone”.

With the melody of 76 TROMBONES ricocheting and vibrating off the rafters of the old, beautiful, sold out, Neil Simon Broadway theatre and a wildly enthusiastic audience approving with mega applause until the last member of the marching band, the star, Harold Hill himself, strutted off the stage.

I have never seen such a tribute. I don’t know how long we had been standing there applauding, five, ten, twenty minutes or maybe more and it did not matter to anyone in the theatre.

MUSIC MAN !!! What a great show. And for me, the emotion I felt was nearly impossible to contain. My wife, Edie and I had the rare privilege of attending the first amateur production of the Music Man play in the early l960’s. I remember Meredith Willsons’ aunt from Des Moines came to see the show in our little town of Chariton Iowa, which was my first Chamber of Commerce challenge.

Our attachment with Music Man continued when we moved the following year to Gary, Indiana, where I was hired as the assistant Manager of the Gary, Indiana Chamber of Commerce. I recall we had a framed music record of the song — Gary Indiana—hanging on the wall of our reception office.

Then one year later, June 1966, we moved to River City, Iowa, Mason City, the very week of the Band Festival, when I became the new General Manager of the Chamber of Commerce. It seemed like the parade was for me.

It was during another band festival when we met Meredith Willson. He was a most talented and gracious person. He was proud to say he was a full time Ambassador for Mason City and our Chamber of Commerce… and he certainly was. What’s more, he kissed my dear wife, Edie, on the cheek.

And now, I am standing here, applauding with abandon, as all these things are racing through my mind. Standing next to me are three of my great loves, my wife, my youngest daughter LeAnn and Emma Rose, my youngest granddaughter.

We are in the balcony; way up in the “nose bleed” section according to our daughter, who said, “these were the best seats available on such short notice…less than two weeks.”

My nose was not bleeding, but my eyes were very moist.

Less than three weeks ago we were in Mason City. We met Rosemary Willson again and many “old” friends from Mason City. We attended the barbershop show in the “Madison High School Gym”, we toured Meredith’s’ home, we cheered the band festival, this time as spectators and attended the ribbon cutting for the Meredith Willson Museum.

How could my eyes not be moist? Once again, we were “gosh darn stubborn Iowans” from River City!!!

How my heart is pounding as Harold Hill marches off the stage and quickly returns for his final bow.

We are still applauding. I looked at my family. Each wearing our music man pins… Professor Toot…I was there when he was born…and now he is famous.

The applause has finally ended and we are working our way down the steps. My wonderful wife has stopped to show her Music Man pin to one of the pretty young lady ushers and proudly said, “We just came from River City”. The young lady was quite impressed. And my wife was beaming, like Meredith had just kissed her again. Maybe he did.

As we leave the Neil Simon Theatre and head toward the parking lot, several blocks away, I thought to myself, what a wonderful connection we have had with Meredith and his hometown of River City.

The progress of Mason City has been tremendous. Mason City should be really proud. But I can tell anyone from Mason City, you cannot fully appreciate this progress until you leave and return years later and then try to envision the changes over Thirty Years. You see, I have done that and I know it to be true.

As Harold Hill said to Winthrop “You wanted me to tell you the truth and now you have to listen”.

I, too, have done that. And now my eyes are moist again. I can close my eyes almost anytime and still hear the trombones. I’ve been able to do this for over thirty years now. I am sorry for anyone who cannot share this wonderful experience. I have truly been blessed 76 times or 76 times 76 or more in my lifetime.

To paraphrase Meredith….

I have seen them winging,

I have heard them ringing,

I have heard them singing,

I have felt the love all around me.

I, too, got my foot caught in the River City door. How fortunate for me and maybe, just maybe, a little bit for River City, my adopted hometown.

It really is Thumthin Thpecial!!!

Written in 2000
*****

PRESIDENT GERALD R. FORD

By
Dennis C. Orvis

As I write this small piece, our Country is in mourning of a great American servant, President Gerald R. Ford. He was the only person who ever served as Vice President and President without being elected to either office. Furthermore, he did not seek either role, but as a dedicated public servant for a quarter century in Congress, he simply could not refuse the calling.

He was ninety-three when he died, several days before the new year of 2007 began. He was our oldest living President.

Over thirty years earlier I met this great man. My wife and I were in Washington and we were walking with our Congresswoman, Margaret M. Heckler, towards the Congressional dining room where we would have lunch.

Congressman Gerald R. Ford was coming toward us in the hallway. Margaret said, “Hi Jerry, I would like you to meet several friends of mine from Massachusetts.”

He stopped. He shook our hands. She told him I was the Executive Vice President of the Fall River Chamber of Commerce. He was very gracious as we shared a couple moments of small talk.

We could not know then, he would be the next President of the United States on August 9, 1974. Nobody did. Not even President Richard M. Nixon, the man who would make it happen.

As the Nation mourns today, its’ leaders and the media are praising Gerald R. Ford as an honest man who worked with Republicans and Democrats for the good of the country. His style of cooperation, of which he excelled, is one that apparently no longer exists in Congress and our Nation is poorer for its absence.

Thirty days after he became the 38th President he pardoned the man he succeeded. This action was highly unpopular. Many Democrats were claiming it was a prearranged deal with Nixon, which Jerry Ford quickly and publicly denied. His long reputation of honesty carried him through this turmoil.

Many claimed his pardon of Nixon cost him the next election, which was very close. It may have, but I believe if Jerry Ford had known that or believed that before he gave the pardon, he would have done it anyway. That’s the kind of man he was.

We saw President Ford some years later when he was playing in the Jackie Gleason Golf Tournament in Florida. Others in his golfing foursome were Jackie Gleason, Jack Nicholas and Foster Brooks, the famous “drunk impersonator.”

Jerry Ford loved the game of golf and one of his frequent golfing companions was the one and only Bob Hope who never missed an opportunity to create laughter over Jerry’s’ golfing adventures. One of the more famous Bob Hope quotes was, “President Ford doesn’t know which golf course in Palm Springs he is playing until his first tee-shot comes down.”

President Gerald R. Ford. Over thirty years ago I shook his hand. It was an honor then and today that honor is even greater. He was one of those rare individuals who put his Country first and became a truly great American leader.

I remember.

January 2007
*****

I never met Paul Newman.  I could have once, I suppose, but I did not.

Paul Newman was a fine actor over many years and especially liked several of his movies.

Paul Newman was a leader in “giving back” through his company Newman’s Own.  The “Hole in the wall gang” camp he built for children can only be admired.  He also inspired additional camps to be built.

Our paths crossed briefly twice.  Once in 2003 when we were visiting our daughter and her family in Weston Connecticut she gave us her tickets to the famous, old theatre in Westport Connecticut.  Paul Newman was the star in one of his favorite plays.  It was called Our Town.  It was a marvelous evening.  Sometimes later I saw his same performance on PBS television.

Incidentally, his wife, Joanne Woodward was chairperson of the effort to rehab the Westport theatre.  I have not seen it since that effort, but I’m sure it was quite successful.

Several years later we were again visiting our daughter and family in Weston.  About a half mile from their house toward the center of Weston, there is a small white Church just up the hill from the towns Library and Fire Station.

Every summer that Church has an old time “County Fair.”  There are many booths where food, antiques, flea market stuff and art items are sold.  There are other booths with enough games for kids to keep the young ones busy.  It is a real nice funfest.

I was walking with our daughter, my wife and several grandchildren and I happened to notice Paul Newman walking not far from us in the crowd.  He lives in Westport with his wife only a few miles from this Church.  This Country Fair, I might add is well known and attracts people from all directions.

Newman was dressed in country-style, striped, bib overalls.  He was also wearing a few days’ whiskers.  It would have been easy to miss him, except he was Paul Newman.

He was walking with a young girl, probably a granddaughter and she was having a great time.

I had my camera with me as usual but I did not take his picture.  Perhaps I could have, with or without his approval, but honestly, I could not do it.

Any picture I might have taken that day of him would not be the Paul Newman we have admired for decades.  It would have been an old grandfather in overalls enjoying the fair with his young granddaughter.

It was their personal time.  I could not let myself intrude on that.

I didn’t need a photograph, but I still have that wonderful picture in my collection of memories.  It was another good day!

April 2009
*****

Joel McCrea, Actor

The Brightest BeaconFlying – 2011

Our flight was scheduled for twelve fifty-five
We left in time to arrive two hours early
Getting to the airport was only a thirty-minute ride
We had a casual breakfast; there was no need to hurry.

The security lines were long, but moving well
Most flyers, not all, are aware of the search routine
Plastic tubs for belts, shoes, metal, just don’t ring the bell
Made it through and dressed; I didn’t forget anything

It was a short two-hour flight to Orlando
Our ride was waiting; we’ll be home in half that time
Flying today lacks the pleasure it had a few years ago
It’s the price of security, but still, the majority says, “It’s just fine.”

2011
*****

Time for a Change

It is generally believed the slogan Time for a Change
Has elected more politicians than any other
It is unfortunate the resulting change
Is one of three, too little, too much or none
As just right is not another

By the time a person is elected
We know their sole is no longer theirs
It is committed you see
Such is the modern experience
When the elected control the purse
Of a helpless democracy

Until those who do the voting
To force decisions just and true
So a great America can prevail

The present system is designed to perpetuate
Time for a Change will continue electing
While America’s cries are of no avail.

2011
*****

Road Improvements

How we hate the delays,
Inconveniences, the irritations
The inconsiderate, the long waits,
Flaring tempers, some with verbal abuse

And now the road improvements are done.
The “working” signs and the orange cones
Bad actions and emotions are nowhere in sight.
All forgotten, the road is now open to normal use.

2012
*****

I Saw a Miracle Today

I saw a miracle today,
I could almost say I felt it, but
That wouldn’t be quite true
You see I had a heart problem
With several blockages in
Some veins needing a special touch

My doctor, whom I just met, with his
Grayish beard and a smile disarmed
My fears and questions too
He did it with a small incision and
Sending his tiny tools gliding
Through veins with a talent much

He installed two stents so very little
I cannot imagine
Completing a perfect task
So carefully designed to protect
Me from any stroke or heart attack
That can maim or kill

We’re confidently expecting his
Deliberate work to keep me
Healthy with results to last
I saw a miracle today
My doctor perhaps or his gift
It was a successful thrill

February 2012
*****

Confessions of a Politician

We have decided to be undecided
Our conclusion is no intrusion

Therefore on the feelings we express
There were all no’s, not a single yes

And we skirted down the middle
Like a water drop on the hot griddle

We have no intention to vote our intervention,
Or any kind of extension

Don’t you see, on that we all agree

We had another busy, difficult day
We wouldn’t have it any other way.

2012
*****

Hear the Angels Singing

Hear the Angels Singing.
Hear the Church bells ringing,
It’s time to hear the Lord’s calling
It’s not your time
It’s not my time
It’s our Lord’s time
And for his great love we’re falling

Halleluiah, halleluiah, halleluiah
We can hear the Angles singing
For you and for me and everyone
About the great love he’s bringing!
AMEN!

2012
*****

A Tribute

Her name was Rita. She never missed a poem in the Ledger
And when the poem was one of mine
My phone would ring, late afternoon,
The voice was clear and elderly sweet about the usual time

Sometimes she would say, “Dennis, you made me cry.
I lost my husband years ago; you brought beautiful memories back to me”
And then she would pause to catch her thoughts, I’m sure
Or she might say, “You got me, Dennis, I’m laughing so hard I cannot see.”

Rita left us not long ago, she was ninety-one.
She’s in a better place I know, with her husband, once again
In the poetry corner where the Angels always sing,
I want her to know (and she probably does,) how much I miss my friend.

2012
*****

Stories and Storybooks

We cannot measure the value of a story
read to a child
We don’t know how imagination grows with stories
of nature’s wilds
We don’t know how story characters become
secret friends
We don’t know the joy they feel when the story
happily ends

We don’t know what great quest for knowledge
For books, stories or writing they might acquire
We don’t know how their future might be shaped
But storybooks can create a learning fire

Millions of children will never see or hear a
storybook
Most are throughout the world, but the U.S.
shares the rest
It is our wish that those you love are
indeed fortunate
We believe those with storybooks are
truly blessed.

2013
*****

The Other Side of Golf

Some people think golf is a crazy game,
Hitting the little white ball, then hitting it again

Three shots or four or maybe five is par
And every time you play the course is always the same

I’ve been playing now over seven decades,
Through the years many memories remain

Some years I played more than others
Oh, how I loved that crazy game

You see golf is not just simply
Hitting or chasing a dimpled ball

Oh, no, you see, golf is much more to me
It’s bonding with nature, the trees, the sky, the birds and all

Listen carefully as we move along our way
Hear the chatter of a noisy, yakking Blue Jay

Listen too, above us in the blue summer sky
Searching the water, I hear that Osprey cry

How many Cardinals have I heard today?
How many Woodpeckers pecking in the tall pines?

How can one measure this glorious time?
Oh yes, it’s more than golf, this golfing day of mine

2013
*****

Dear Lord

“Dear Lord”
“Yes?”
“Who’s that?”
“It’s me, Dennis, you called?”
“Yes I did, but you’ve never answered like this before.”
“I know, Dennis, but I had a free moment when your call came in. What do you want, Dennis, I’m very busy.”
“I’m sure your are. Look Lord, I could send you an email instead of taking up your time right now.”
“Dennis, you know I don’t take emails. What is it you have on your mind?”
“OK, Lord, but it’s not for me. I’m doing ok. It’s about my friend. He is in the hospital very sick. He’s been sick for a long time. The doctors have said they have done all they can for him.”
“Yes, I know, Dennis, I know everything. What do you want?”

“Yes, Lord, I know that. I guess you know I’ve sent several prayers. I’m really worried, Lord, I’m wondering if my friends number is up, would you take him in your loving arms and hold him? He’s a good man. I don’t know if he is perfect, but he is a good man. Or Lord, if his number is not up yet, could you stroke his gray hair so he will know you are there with him? Do you know what I mean, Lord?”

“Yes, Dennis, I know what you mean.”
“I know that Lord, you know everything. I forgot for a moment. Anyway, thanks for listening and thanks again for your love.”
“Yes, Dennis, I always listen. Be at peace. I have your friend in my hands and because you care, you have my love.”

“Thank you, Lord. Bless you!”

“That’s my line, Dennis.”

“I know, Lord, but I feel like I needed to say it.”

“Bless you, Dennis.”
“Thank you again, Lord, and Amen.”

2013
*****

Tuck, the Board Game

Tuck is a board game that requires some careful thought
I don’t recommend dozing, you might get caught
Kings remember, send other players back home
It’s fun, but watch out for your partner and your own

The cards can be good or something quite rotten
They’re very good when aces and kings are gotten
It’s difficult trying to move your tees to your bank
But switches with jack’s means your partner to thank

It’s a frustrating game in too many ways
Still, it’s a fun way to pass time on those rainy days
It’s fun, too, to win after a tough game and such
But I warn you, it’s dangerous to brag too much.

2013
*****

An Oversight Milestone

I have a three-ring binder divided in three sections
I keep the records of my writings there

Non-fiction, fiction and poetry, numbered, dated and
Total words
Important to me though I rarely share

The non-fiction section shows many words
Five hundred twenty-three thousand one hundred eighty-two

Expressed in one hundred seventy-nine pieces
And every word contained as I remember is true

The fiction section is my favorite, I like the stories
And the characters even more

My children’s story Little Jude and Midnight
Is number one hundred and eighty-four

I should mention here a milestone reached,
With total words three hundred fifty thousand forty-four

The third section is poetry which I feel easy to write
The last poem reached number six hundred twenty-three

The word total is ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-six
I should have looked, adding four more words is not challenge to me

But wait, an oversight, I skipped number five hundred ninety-five
If I use this one I can fill the gap

With one hundred ninety-five words here,
I will pass the hundred thousand milestone

WOW! WOW! WOW! What do you think of that?

2014
*****

Coincidence or Design

Was it coincidence the six of us attended the Church supper? Perhaps.
Was it a coincidence the Pastor’s wife came to our table to say hello? Perhaps.

Was it a coincidence my two friends started bragging about my stories? Perhaps.
Was it a coincidence one said, “give him one word, he’ll write you a story? Perhaps.

And then she said, “Jordan,” her grandson, born with muscles that could not relate
Though unable to walk or talk, he had an envious smile and a motorized wheelchair
He could operate

I later learned he responded to Santa Claus and trains
From this tidbit of information I wrote a story in a couple hours

About Jordan going to the circus with a new friend,
A mouse named Little Jude, who wore a baseball cap with magic powers

One story, I knew was not enough and I proceeded to write four more
With exciting adventures the two of them shared, a labor of love, you see

I hope that Jordan was able to enjoy the stories
I was pleased about the thank you’s sent to me

Jordan passed away last May, when his young heart stopped beating
Though young in years he touched so many hearts he left behind

Was it a coincidence that all of this happened? Perhaps.
I say perhaps, because I believe it may be part of a grand design.

2014
*****

The Ghostly Dream Ship

It’s an old friend this dream that visits me from time to time
Without cause or warning or care
In the form of an ancient three-masted ship
With every sail straining to hold the powerful angry air

The night is purple dark, broken only by the scattered eerie moonlight
Flashing on the white caps, splashing from the wooden hull
The old ship groans and screeches as it races on
Void of any crew, its many ropes stretched tight, singing to their mighty pull

It’s guided by ghosts I can’t see and I don’t know where it is going
I don’t know where it has been, but the ride must be wild and crazy
The sea is raging and the waves are fighting
From a flash of lightning I see the ship is named after me

Now the ship is disappearing from the moon, into the thick, waiting fog
And once again it is rapidly leaving me behind
It’s gone! The old ship is gone without a trace
And I wonder if that wild ride will ever be mine.

2014
*****

Heart Music

Poetry is heart music
Words can become melodies

Sadly not for everyone,
I’m sorry to say

To some it will be pretty
Some won’t hear a single note

But one or two, maybe you
Will hear a symphony

2014
*****

Poetry, yes or no

I met a man the other day
That made me kind of sad
He didn’t care for poetry
I told him he must be mad

Don’t you remember nursery rhymes?
When you were young and small
Remember how you felt
When Humpty Dumpty fell off the wall.

But poetry is nursery rhymes and more
It takes you any place you might wish to go
To say you don’t like it,
Friend, tell me it isn’t so.

Tell me, too, how about music?
Are there songs you like real well?
Don’t you know the words are poetry?
Can you dislike them now, pray tell?

2014
*****

An Old Friend

I met an old friend I haven’t seen for far too long.
“How are you doing?” I said

And he answered “What?”

“Me too,” I said in a kidding way, “but it hurts when it rains.”

He smiled and said, “Me too! It’s good to see you again.”

As he walked away, I guess maybe with his daughter, I heard him say,
“Who was that fella, he looked sort of familiar.”

I smiled. I met an old friend today. We saved the past and the future
For another time. It was good to see him again.

Do you remember when you and me were buddies when we were very little,
You lived down below and I lived up the hill?
Do you remember eating Groundcherries from Rueben Judish’s garden
And Ernie Sacks taught us how to swear, extremely well?

Do you remember when they fixed our streets with a new thick coat of tar
When it was dry we tore off a chunk and it became our Black Jack gum?
Do you remember picking raspberries in the woods of Lover’s Lane or when
We kids played “kick the can?” I don’t recall who won.

Do you remember the circus that came to town every year or the sweet corn
Festival on Main Street, with butter from ear to ear, all we could eat?
Do you remember playing baseball at the park behind Nieworner’s Hardware
Store, where a homer reached the street?
How small the park was and we were too, a well-hit ball homered at one hundred feet.

Do you remember playing Captain Flag and I Spy, our neighborhood was never at rest?
And in the Winter sliding down Catholic Hill for two or more blocks, it was the very best.

We knew where all the blue grapes were growing and no apple tree was safe from us.
We’re still buddies with memories showing because Waverly was a super plus!

Those were good times, many years ago, we were Waverly buddies then,
Gloryoski, Zero, Ain’t that grand? Yes, Zero, it was so very grand!

And yes, I remember still. I close my eyes and we do it all over again!

2004
*****

A GOLFING MIRACLE
By
Dennis C. Orvis

In the merry month of May,
A miracle came my way,
While I was golfing with the group called Spuds.

It was a day of clear blue sky,
And my shots were flying high,
Only a couple could be labeled as duds.

The fairways were gorgeous green,
Every shot was swift and clean,
And my dimpled ball sailed so straight and true.

Hitting every green in regulation,
It was for me a new sensation,
‘Though my start belied my game, three putting one and two.

Another bogie came on three,
But then the fun began for me,
Four pars, two birdies, total thirty-seven with nine to play.

A bogie got me on number ten,
Then an eagle, my second shot went right in,
And next came six straight pars, it surely was my Day!

Careless putting on the final green,
Doubled a bogie on eighteen,
Back nine score, thirty-eight in a very special way.

Seventy-five was my total score,
First round in the 70’s, a dozen years or more,
It was one of my finer golfing escapades.

Then Suddenly I realized
With a round of high fives,
Impossible as it seems, I just “shot my age!”

WOW! Top that Tiger!
May 13, 2005

THE RAILROAD SONG
By
Dennis C. Orvis

The road was two ribbons of steel and it was the same every day,
There was a click from every wheel as joints cried out and the loads would sway.
The big, black engines were aiding the Nation’s growth coast to coast.
Begrudging free rides for hoboes and bums, riding the rails with stories to boast.

It was special growing up by the railroad near, with experiences many will never know.
We treated the trains with respect, never fear, sometimes hopping a ride for a mile or so,
The huge black engines used steam for their power, to pull many boxcars east or west.
They stopped in our town at the old wood water tower, to fill their boiler, so vital to their quest.

Our trains hauled freight, except during World War Two, when soldiers filled many cars,
Called troop trains, we gave them comic books and apples too, soldiers from other countries and ours.
During that time our railroad bridge was deemed essential to the war, it was guarded every hour, every day of the week.
My Grandfather was a member of the watchmen corp., no threat ensued, an event never to repeat.

The railroad bridge was also special to us young guys, for jumping and diving into the summer’s warm river,
We remember too, when a train too fast on the curve caused three or more boxcars to dive into the water.
This only happened once that I can recall, but I remember the six-foot icicles hanging from the water tower every winter.
And the many pennies we put on the rails for the train to squash, and the hobos my Grandfather invited for dinner.

I can’t imagine a town without trains, so important to our lives back then, but now the trains stopped running nearly everywhere.
Their need, like the old days, will not return again, but they are preserved as memories, so long ago and ever so near.
The great railroad companies have all merged or died. The right-o-ways changed and the rails are forever gone.
I remember how the eerie night whistle cried and when I close my eyes I can hear the wheels singing, the clicking railroad song.
2006
*****

THE CHURCH ON VERNON SQUARE
By
Dennis C. Orvis

Serenely righteous among the old oak trees growing on Vernon Square
The Darien United Methodist Church, The Second, is proudly standing there.
Looking good, though built in the year 1883,
The huge bronze plaque relates its transition through history.
The original Methodist Church “cornerstoned” in 1841
And survived when Federal troops burned the town of Darien.
It served as Church, A gathering place and yes, even asTown Hall.
And when the Civil War ended, a difficult Peace tried to answer the call.

For Forty years it prevailed through growth and tragic recovery
But it was no match against Nature and the hurricane of 1881.
When the wild winds of August brought destruction so painful for all to see.
Then two long years passed slowly by before rebuilding was begun.
Now as I sit in this wonderful old Church that’s seen 125 years pass by.
I can only imagine the joy when the new Church doors first opened wide.
Overwhelming to all Blessed to be present, they looked through misty eyes,
I stare in awe, as they must have done at the beauty I see inside.

The ceiling peaks from rear to front thirty feet above the floor.
Dark stained, narrow boards add richness no fresco could enhance,
With three steel rods holding wall-to-wall providing needed support.
Rusty with age, turnbuckled tight, the Builders left nothing to chance.
Each side has four stain-glass windows, stunning beauty ten-foot high,
Dark woodwork trim throughout the Church, scalloped Wainscot pleases the eye.
Lighted by a six-foot chandelier with twelve etched globes on display,
Flanked by two smaller fixtures with four frosted globes lighting the way.

The Church is nearly full now, eighty or more, this special day,
And the tower bell is ringing as the faithful scurry to find a pew.
Ten red robes with wide white collars, rise as the Director begins to sway,
The congregation stands, the music begins, the Lords’ moment anew.
Serenely righteous among the old oak trees growing on Vernon Square.
The Darien United Methodist Church, The Second, is proudly standing there.
The loving music of Praise floats freely to neighbors ever near,
As a visitor, did I find this Church, or did the Lord send me here?

Mother’s Day 2006
Darien, Georgia
*****

A SHOT IN THE DARK
By
Dennis C. Orvis

We’re standing in the moonlit night
In a group of eight or nine.
Watching the dark northeastern sky
For signs of history.

Hoping the first space shuttle night-launch
is on time.
Hoping too, from a hundred miles away,
The miracle we can see.

Suddenly the cloudbank has a touch of Pink.
The horizon changes to brilliant orange from dark blue.
There! In the middle rising slowly, a sight too awesome to blink,
Was a small red flame, climbing slowly into view.

“There it is!” The cries were heard, “Look at it go!”
We watched the small red flame climbing ever so high,
With a white vapor trail stretching and rapidly grow.
Reflecting the colors, the shuttle vanishes into the sky.

It is gone! We silently wish the riders God Speed.
We watch as upper winds rearrange the plumb-like trail.
The mission into space, our Country continues to lead.
Unforgettable. May our leadership ever prevail.

October 2006
I took this photo in March 2001
*****

WILL YOU ANSWER?
By
Dennis C. Orvis

When old friends gather in the hall of memories,
The faces, though changed, will still be aglow.
And their eyes sweep the room like a warm gentle breeze,
Re-living the happy times we used to know.
We watch the speaker open the leathered Hawkeye book,
Quietly turning pages to our special days.
A silent breath shares the stage with a longing look.
Unspoken words span sixty years with a gaze.

The trance fades as the first name floats across the hall.
The reading of the honored list has begun.
Heads turn with smiles as each voice answers the call.
When the roll is called, will your AYE be one?
The answer, of course, is really up to you,
But your classmates are hoping, most of all,
With our schools’ colors of Black and Gold tugging, too,
That you will, in person, answer the call.

2006
*****

THE CLOCK
By
Dennis C. Orvis

Quietly the hands on the attractive clock move steadily as they should,
Positioned above the Country Club bar in a sheen of natural wood.
The time is correct for any, who have a need to know,
But the clock itself is symbolic of a more important role.

It is owned and cared for by a special golfing group, called Spuds by name.
Though not a trophy or a prize, the clock is significant just the same.
The time is correct for any, who have a need to know,
But the clock itself is symbolic of a more important role.

There are two-dozen Spuds, plus a few, golfing three times weekly, those who can,
With handicaps in the senior range, fellowship and friendship share the master plan.
The time is correct for any, who have a need to know,
But the clock itself is symbolic of a more important role.

The numbered chips are drawn, teams are formed, the game’s selected by number five.
Many grunt disgust of the choice in jest and load up for the eighteen-hole ride.
The time is correct for any, who have a need to know,
But the clock itself is symbolic of a more important role.

When the round is over, the Spuds meet under the clock and winners then are paid.
With pitchers of beer, the humor is clear and the days golf repeats in charade.
The time is correct for any, who have a need to know,
But the clock itself is symbolic of a more important role.

The Spud clock pays tribute to members playing now at the big golf course in the sky,
And brass plates look down o’er the joy they once shared when their shots good and bad would fly.
The time is correct for any, who have a need to know,
But the clock itself is symbolic of a more important role.

So whether the Spud is around the table or on the clocks’ brass plate with a name.
The important thing is not whether you won or lost, but with whom you played the game.
The time is correct for any, who have a need to know,
But the clock itself is symbolic of a more important role.

2007
Note: This is a tribute I wrote to our golfing group called the Spuds.
*****

THE OLD CITY
By
Dennis C. Orvis

I didn’t know what to expect when I first met the old city in sixty-nine.
I didn’t know its history though I was determined with an open mind.
Looking back it wasn’t easy in the limited time we had to see,
It looked like the city would finish last in any contest there might be.

But nobody pitys cities no matter how difficult the plight.
It’s easier to walk away than accept a challenge and fight.

An old New England city; its decay started nearly fifty years before,
When a hundred or so cotton industries stopped machines and closed the door.
Thousands lost their jobs and moved away, property taxes were unpaid.
A city bankrupt went under State control, no improvements or repairs were made.

But nobody pitys cities no matter how difficult the plight.
It’s easier to walk away than accept a challenge and fight.

The Great Depression added chaos to chaos with no help anywhere to be had.
The city grew smaller, real estate became blight, conditions were nothing but bad.
World War II brought economic recovery to America Coast to Coast.
Well almost, for this old New England city, recovery was still a ghost.

But nobody pitys cities no matter how difficult the plight.
It’s easier to walk away than accept a challenge and fight.

Progress was painful, a new interstate gutted downtown, rebuilding was terribly slow.
Then some young Tigers got involved with desire and energy hoping to make things go.
Still, national stores, dying for lack of parking, moved from the city center.
The job growth was slow, needle trade pay was low and Firestone closed its huge plant there.

But nobody pitys cities no matter how difficult the plight.
It’s easier to walk away than to accept a challenge and fight.

Those Tigers hired me to run the Chambers’ ship, a job fifty others tried to get.
But the word was I lost, the challenge was too great, a banner I could not forget.
I must admit it wasn’t an easy role, those New Englanders were cordial, but cold.
Barriers everywhere, as I tried to paint a new picture on a canvas, so battered and old.

But nobody pitys cities no matter how difficult the plight.
It’s easier to walk away than accept a challenge and fight.

The key I believed, was people and we pulled them in on many fronts with projects galore.
And in time our small victories with mended fences survived and served to attract even more.
We formed partnerships in spite of Sacred Grounds, pressing on with a growing team.
We changed our image to be community first, gaining friends as finished projects were seen.

But nobody pitys cities no matter how difficult the plight.
It’s easier to walk away than accept a challenge and fight.

A bold spirit flourished as community leaders stepped forward with renewed pride.
Many tributes and praises came the old Citys way from the New England countryside
With growing successes like Junior Achievement for the young, old problems were soon forgot.
And for a decade plus four the troubled old City was ever close to Camelot.

But nobody pitys cities no matter how difficult the plight.
It’s easier to walk away than accept a challenge and fight.

A quarter century has passed since I left the old City, proud that all was ok.
But reports I’ve heard since says Camelot is gone, the old City is again in decay.
My heart is in pain for those friends we so loved and the old City that took us in.
But we remember our shared joy of Camelot and truly hope it will happen again.

But nobody pitys cities no matter how difficult the plight.
It’s easier to walk away than accept a challenge and fight.

2007
*****

THE MEETING OF FRIENDS
By
Dennis C. Orvis

I called a meeting the other day of all the friends I’ve ever known.
To meet where laughter never stops on memory lane.
Such joy came over me as old friends began to show.
Smiling and waving and calling out my name.

Glenn, the first to arrive, like Jude, was a friend from early age.
And then I saw Dick and Jim, great neighbors in early days.
There’s Del. How often our paths did cross,
As we drifted through life in those different ways.

There’s Doug and Jerry, Al, Don, Max and Gil,
Russ and Gus, Vic, Rick and Lavern.
And Gene and Harry, Fred and Larry,
With chorus of laughter, great memories return.

They’re shoulder to shoulder and still more arrive.
I see Gary and Charlie, Ernie, Frank and Paul.
So many, the smiling faces keep coming on,
Reminding me how blessed I am, maybe blessed of all.

My mind is racing back to those terrific times shared
With Bob, John, Jack, Mickey, Butch and Dave,
Some great, some small, yet treasures all,
Tony, Tom, Andy and Wayland, a thumbs-up wave.

The line is long, no end in sight,
There’s Dan and Royal and high-fiving Clair.
There are many, many more, too many to name,
But I remember each one with a toast and a Prayer.

2007
*****

A POEM FOR JOANNIE
By
Dennis C. Orvis

Joannie was the sister of a friend,
Who in the golden years of her life, was dealt a losing hand.
I did not know her long and quite late,
She lived on the golf course, the fairway of five-par, hole number eight.

A friend of our golfing group of twenty-four,
Served us cookies and coffee, twice a week outside her patio door.
Treats by the golfers, but the smile belonged to her.
How it started I don’t know but it was so very unique, so pure.

Then the coffee stop was closed one day.
Joannie had an extended illness that wouldn’t go away.
We were soon shocked with great sadness.
Learning her illness was terminal, we prayed for her comfort and rest.

How helpless we are when a friend is struck.
We’re driven to do anything, hoping always for good luck.
I sent her a folder of poems I wrote.
And was told her lost smile returned faintly like a brief ray of hope.

Small victory perhaps? Or huge, one might say?
It inspired me to follow with more poems, weekly, the first day.
Does it really matter? How can we really tell?
Yes. Several weeks later I received a thank you note I treasure still.

Time indeed, was short, barely ninety days.
Through eight Mondays the poems feathered the weeks with rhyme and praise.
Yet, sadly, poems the following week she did not hear or see.
So with special thanks, this poem’s “for Joannie in memory.”

2007
*****

THE FLOOD OF 2008
(My hometown- Waverly Iowa)
By
Dennis C. Orvis

I’ve seen the river rise, a springtime event repeated every year.
Winter snow melts sending extra water to the river waiting near
And swelling our summer friend, overflowing the rivers’ normal banks
Usually though, the flooding is minor, the subject of many thanks.

Waverly Iowa loves the Cedar River most of the time,
Running through the towns’ center, offering fun and beauty, a special kind.
The source of favorite fishing spots, boating and the ole’ swimming holes,
Year around pleasures, winter too, ice skating and scoring hockey goals.

Our river, Natures’ blessing, providing much joy over the years.
And yet, there were some springs when higher flooding caused many tears.
Especially when the winter snow was deep or the melt was much too fast.
Well-known low areas would quickly flood, requiring a sandbag task.

The gentle warm spring rains are always needed to help the flowers grow,
But when the rain is added to a swollen river it makes a treacherous flow.
Warnings from the upstream towns alerted officials to be concerned.
School students responded to fill sandbags, another lesson learned.

Some people were rescued by boats as they were every flooding year.
Filling sandbags, we always wondered why they didn’t move from here.
Still, except for a few houses, some city parks and maybe a street,
Usually most spring floods we could handle as a manageable repeat.

There were record years, when much damage comes quickly comes to mind.
The year the towns’ boathouse sailed the dam, probably 1949.
1960 many county bridges were damaged or washed away.
And others with the Harmon Street Bridge under water every flooded day.

It has been over forty years since I moved away from my hometown,
Which means I missed those flooding years of throwing sandbags all around.
But in the news today there was my hometown, in headlines Nationwide.
The Cedar River, out of control, my hometown with no place to run or hide.

The pictures I received from Waverly friends I could hardly believe.
Areas were flooded first time, before it crested and then recede.
Even the Fairgrounds under water, to the hills of my old golf course.
Water engulfing thousands of homes, stores and Churches without remorse.

This surely will be the new record, this flood of 2008.
It was abnormally high, but not from snow as the flood came very late.
The only cause this year was relentless rain, for days and days it came.
The aftermath is brutal, lives of many will never be the same.

My thoughts are wandering to the stages a flood impacts on ones’ mind.
Concern, anxiety, worry, with futility not far behind.
Disbelief, disgust and discouragement when the river shrinks one day.
The hurt endured when destroyed photos and keepsakes are hauled away.

I stare at the picture of my flooded hometown with much pain in my heart
Those memories of my younger days when those places and things were part
Someday grief and sadness will fade, tragedy cannot forever last,
And my beautiful hometown will again excel above its’ splendid past.

June 2008
*****

SPECIAL MOMENTS
By
Dennis C. Orvis

In the world of golf where fantasy and fiction
Can sometimes embellish what’s real,

The unbelievable can follow the forgettable
On the very next shot.

And yet, every once in a while, if you are lucky,
You can have a day surreal.

Your putter is true; your bad shots are few
And your old golf game is really hot.

As a Senior hot golf games are quite rare;
Any heat reference would be the weather.

But hidden in my memory trust are a
Few special moments easy to recall.

Once my second shot on a Par five hole,
Rolled the green within the leather

And the three times I had a hole-in-one,
Each becoming a special trophy ball.

Now, aging, great golf days are far between
But the fellowship is worth the time I spend

I shot my age in seventy-five, supreme!
Now four years later, seventy-nine, cheers again!

March 2009
*****

THERE WAS A TIME
(Growing up in Waverly Iowa)
By
Dennis C. Orvis

There was a time
when this body was young
I would swim in the river
dive off the railroad bridge
or swing high from a rope or vine.

There was a time
when this body was young
I searched the woods for mushrooms
hunted rabbits in their zigzag run
or borrow grapes from the neighbors’ vine

There was a time
when this body was young
when we fished all night long
caught a few for no reason at all
or maybe caught an eel and then “cut our line.”

There was a time
when this body was young
swimming all day at the town pool
or chase gophers with wet towels
or pitched old copper pennies to a line

There was a time
when this body was young
we played baseball in the street
rode our bikes all over town
Our bikes waxed to a perfect shine

There was a time
when this body was young
and we did those things that young people do
never thinking of danger that could have been
Yes, there was a time.
Wouldn’t it be great “one more time?

2009
*****

MY BIRTHDAY PARTY
By
Dennis C. Orvis

It’s a party I did not plan,
It’s something I would not have done.
But my lovin’ family did
And now I’m basking in the fun

It’s pleasing as each guest arrives
Increasing the vibes in the hall
And I realize how blessed I am
There’s no doubt, the most of all.

As I look around the crowded room,
The great joy I have is real.
I see all the smiling faces and
The treasured friendship I feel.

Wonderful memories of special times,
Flash through my mind again,
And conversations start with those
Familiar words, “Remember when?”

To each and every one I say,
You are so special in my life.
And of course, the Angel on my cake
Is always my special wife

So it’s not the eighty candles
We’re here to celebrate
It’s the minutes shared through the years
I’ll forever appreciate.

2009
*****

THE OLD COURSE
By
Dennis C. Orvis

In the golfing world,
The mere mention of the Old Course
The vision of Scotland’s’ St. Andrews
Appears with rolling lands and waving gorse

And yet, there is another
Old Course memorialized by so few
Located in Fall River Massachusetts
In 1895 the nine-hole course was new.

World famous Harry Vardon
In 1900 twice shot a seventy-four
Setting a new course record with
Ancient clubs and balls, a feat we must adore.

The great Bobby Jones
Once challenged the Fall River nine
He gave it his best
But he paid for any off-shot line.

It was the fall of ’69
When I first played this Scottish tough
With a handicap of twelve
I soon added five, hooking often in the rough.

It took a year to
Become a twelve handicap as before
And there I stayed
For a dozen years plus two more.

Although I never beat the course
My first hole-in-one came on number eight
It was a blind shot
I never saw, though witnesses said it was great

I did see one, not mine,
Hole number twelve on a cold January day
And an eagle two by Hentershee
First hole, unbelievable yet today.

In the year 1975
The Old Course expands, another nine was seen
The original course remained
Unchanged, though two holes joined the back as “teens”

The Scottish layout
Offered many places for balls to hide and rest
With a ball hunting hobby
Without a doubt I was one of the best

Finding fifty or more
Was easy. My one-day record was 252
I remember clear one Christmas
I gave one hundred dozen to friends in their brands, too

The only trophy I won
During those fourteen years I still treasure
Turning fifty in ’79
Winning the Senior tourney, a day of special pleasure

The Fall River course
Endured many a difficult time
In addition to the
Great Depression of 1929

It was deserted
By community leaders after the joy of 1885
It’s hard to imagine
When hard times fell, how it ever stayed alive

Expanding the course in 1975
Failed to attract finances new members bring
Critical times returned
Lack of funds were crucial, becoming a daily thing

As Greens Committee Chairman
I heard the glaciers might have melted very near
The constant pebble
Problem in the sand traps was a sign the melt was here

We contracted experts
A gravel company for test borings to be sure
The borings told us
Substantial gravel, thousands of cubic yards or more

At the December annual meeting
Of the members I presented a daring plan
To expand the valley holes
Two and Eight, selling the digging to the gravel man

My plan had strong approval
And the digging soon began, much gravel was removed
Many members helped
Pick-up small pebbles as the new fairways healed, improved

The sale of gravel
Brought new life to the Old Course and Country Club
And once again
The activity grew; once more it became a central hub

A new superintendent
For the course was hired in ’81, given loose reigns
And many improvements
Restored its beauty and its reputation soared again

Tom Ohlson, by name
Plus Tom Tetrault, Club Pro since 1975
Endured the tough times and
Now with a showplace they have survived

It’s been forty years
Since I first met this Old Course of 1885
It was my personal pleasure
To play her once more, bringing old memories alive

The big divot I made
On two and eight’s still there, the tree I cut down is still gone
The flower garden
My wife helped build on seven tee, still blooms nature’s song

Together we shared
Such joy that others may never feel or see
Locked in our hearts
The Fall River Country Club, the other Old Course, forever special to me.

June 2009
*****

HAPPY BIRTHDAY! To Ralph Houk
By
Dennis C. Orvis

Well, Dear friend, we just heard some wonderful news.
Your ninetieth birthday is here

A milestone by any measure one might choose.
We join your friends in a boisterous cheer.
*
We’re tempted to joke just a little bit.
Was a Babe Ruth pitch hard to hit?

Was the covered wagon a bumpy trip?
Was the feathered golf ball hard to pick?
*
Ninety candles, wow! That’s a lot.
The burn permit wasn’t easy to obtain

We know the cake will be very hot.
So we got the permit in Yogi’s name.
*
Seriously, Ralph, we’re so pleased to say.
Friendship we treasure, shared memories we adore

We wish you the best each and every day
Happy Birthday, again, wishing you many more.

Dennis and Edie Orvis
August 10, 2009

Written for: Ralph Houk,
Baseball Famous
and Our Friend
*****

THE QUESTION
By
Dennis C. Orvis

When the health of a loved one is in question, whether yours or mine,
We would like to believe it isn’t true; searching for a hopeful sign.
And now a familiar old question returns quickly to our mind.
Why do bad things happen to good people? It’s so terribly unkind.

We have heard life is what we make it, which isn’t totally true.
Some roads are better than others and some we do not chose to do.
Hopefully the good times will outweigh all others, a positive refrain.
Through memories we can share and yet the question will always remain.

We’re afraid there is no answer that would begin to satisfy.
To say that is just the way it is, will never answer the WHY.
We know of nothing to ease the pain our hearts are feeling today.
Except the hope we have and our Prayers, to strengthen our dismay.

2009
*****

OUR CLASS REUNION – ONCE AGAIN
By
Dennis C. Orvis

It’s been a while and the years fly so fast.
As high school days fade in the distant past
Some friendships, though, remain so very strong
And some memories will always belong

I am anxious now to see my old friends
And relive a few special times again
And we will laugh together once again
At the words that follow “remember when?”

I hope that time has been kind to you
I hope that some of your dreams came true.
Here’s a toast to good health, my friends
Until the day when we meet once again.

2009
*****

From My Hospital Bed
By
Dennis C. Orvis

It’s cool outside, the first cold
wave of the season is here.
The sky is a different blue,
since the rain cleansed the tainted air.

The morning sun is passing through
a cloud that wants to stay
Still, the emerging sunrise reaches
my window to welcome my day.

The vertical vanilla blinds are turned
to let the new day in.
On each blind a mini sunrise
appears to let the morning win

It’s a fascinating picture,
I had not noticed before
As each mini sunrise moves upward
growing higher from the floor

The sun finally broke through,
now flying above the stubborn cloud
Behind me the shadows cover
the waiting wall like a shroud

Suddenly my room fills with
sunshine as the shadows quickly flee
I love the new days’ picture
designed especially for me

Seen from my hospital bed,
natures’ beauty performs for me
While recovering from accidental
damage to my knee

From friends and loved ones,
I can feel such wonderful energy
And healing blessings and Prayers
ride the brilliant sunrays to me.

2009
*****

The Boring and the Bland
By
Dennis C. Orvis

An accident put me in a wheelchair,
And that’s the bad news.
Good news- it’s only temporary
No other option I can choose
The doctor says three months if I’m lucky
But it could be four
But no weight on the left leg for weeks
It must be off the floor.

I have a brace to keep the leg straight
‘Til the healing is done
So it here I sit, grin and bear it,
Exercise is number one
Now I am in my easy chair
Or sitting in the wheeled one
A walker to go from
One to the other isn’t any fun

I learned quickly, how fragile
Life can be
One moment I’m on my bike
And then I landed on my knee
Now I gaze out the window
I see a picture so surreal
I see wind blowing without sound
And sunshine I cannot feel

I see beautiful flowers
Without the fragrance they provide
The world is bland from where I sit
Only quiet walls inside
There is a great consolation
As the ordeal I wary
My injury is healing
My wheelchair is temporary.

TV, books, mags and things to read
And my writing pad at hand
They all help me get through the days
And survive the boring and the bland

2009
*****

The Old House
By
Dennis C. Orvis

While growing up I spent a few years in my grandparent’s house
Matter of fact I was born in that house in 1929

The house was built in three parts, the first about 1850
Like my Mother, born there in 1911 we turned out fine

The wall studs in the first section were oak tree limbs
Verifying its age, like concrete only a drill could sink a nail

No A/C in the summer heat, corn grew tall, we suffered it all
Winter heat was the Warm Morning stove heating water by the pail

No central heat meant cold nights and colder mornings
It meant the burning of coal, carried in and always ashes to be carried out

It meant covers on my bed so thick I could hardly turn over
It meant storm windows replaced screens in the fall to keep winter out

Iowa winters I still recall were very cold and white
And my friends I left behind many years ago report it’s still true

In the late 1950’s before I moved, I modernized the old place
Yet, memories remain of the old house, so old and yet ever new.

2009
*****

The Pending Storm
By
Dennis C. Orvis

The pending storm was moving to squeeze the sunset out of the sky,
A few white helpless clouds were fading with no place to go
Low and rain filled, multi-colored blue clouds race by
And the old fisherman starts the motor as the wind begins to blow

The fast moving storm caught him fishing near the opposite shore
He reeled in his lines, feeling light moisture in the air
He aimed his boat dead into the wind; the small motor gave a roar
It seemed the boat was hardly moving, now the storm is here

The sunset was still a small ribbon of gold he could see
While the rain began to fall as the mooring dock came into view
His wife in the bow of the boat was looking anxiously
They fished and got wet together and tomorrow they start anew.

2009

Written in memory of an old friend
*****

May -The Cruise
By
Dennis C. Orvis

The day has arrived. I see the ship our cruise will soon begin.
Our luggage is tagged, enough clothing for a month, it looks to me.
I wonder when we will see our luggage again.
Then we walk through the arch searching for fun at sea

A nice smile asks for our picture I.D.
Then points us up the ramp where we show it again.
Next to a table where health forms wait for me.
I.D. again along with camera, metal and the carry-on X-ray Machine.

No matter what I think, I smile, good security is great
We catch up with groups of people aimlessly walking
They know their stateroom number but being lost is fate
I hear a low mumble in several languages, muffled talking.

Eventually nearly everyone finds their room for the week
About two hours pass, no luggage yet and the loud speaker cries
“All passengers to the main theater with life-jackets” another site to seek
Most make it, wearing, carrying or tripping with unpleasant sighs

The demonstration was boring until the leader told us all to stand
And put the life jacket on, the truth is there wasn’t space
For everyone and their life jackets, fumbling straps, always wrong hand
The lucky ones were nearer to the theater doors, leading the exit race.

Getting back to the stateroom was an aggravating trip
Too many people, elevators were jammed, and stairways were full
Patience was in short supply, courtesy too often skipped
Time for dinner? Our reservation was mixed. Where’s a lull?

We signed for anytime dining, now we’re stuck for a sit down eight
Nice menu, good food, cordial conversation
After dinner, to the Purser’s office to change our dining fate
After all, we said it all, six days, same people is devastation.
Now where’s the theater? We’ve got to hurry. Where’s the elevator?
Found it! Do we go up or down? What’s that chart say?
Finally we found it again, just in time. What a gorgeous theater!
Wow! Nearly one thousand seats. The comics are funny. What a day!

Twin beds or queen? We chose the queen.
Our stateroom is small; the bed is a foot from the wall.
The small frig door barely has room to open and swing
If we’d chosen the twins, there’d be two foot between, that’s all!

Day two began. We met my wife’s sister and husband at eight.
The dining buffet on deck fifteen was our goal
We found four twenty-foot rows of food, each row looking great
I slid my large plate along; it was like a fantasy stroll

I tried to behave, remembering it is hard losing weight
I only spooned a little of the food I like really well
Still I walked to our table with a fully loaded plate
I ate it all, returned to the pastries, chocolate, Carmel and jell

Breakfast is over and I am stuffed like a swollen toad
We explored the ship and watched the ocean wave
Took a few pictures, felt pleased I did not explode
The hours passed quickly, lunchtime arrived. I must control my craze

We found the buffet so much quicker this time
I grabbed the large plate and made the loop
I stopped at the meats, they have every kind
I tried them all except the fresh squid soup

Back for dessert, a weakness I cannot overcome
Twelve kinds of cake, so beautiful to the eye
Fresh fruit, peaches, pears, melons and purple plum
Stop! I must stop! Right after a piece of key lime pie

And so it went day after day after day
Except for one more dress up full service dinner
Three meals like clockwork at the growing buffet
I look at fellow passengers, hoping I’m thinner.

On this trip to the Caribbean, we made four island stops
They looked the same each with a hundred shops selling jewelry
We saw a live show every evening the talent always tops
Each day on the ship was filled with planned activity

To say we enjoyed the cruise would be an understatement
It was simply wonderful as it always is. We’ve been on four
Our week ended and so did our watery merriment.
Back to reality, just in time, I cannot eat any more.

May 2010
*****

Our Backyard Swing
(the house in Baltimore)
By
Dennis C. Orvis

We have this swing in our backyard
No, it’s not a tire, rope or vine
It’s like the old porch swing
On an A frame with a green-covered top

The tan, soft cushions can seat three
But more comfy two at a time
It’s what I really love to call my
Favorite early evening spot

To gently rock to and fro

So come on, join with me if you will
And you will see what I mean
Our backyard is a very special place
With plenty activity

We’ll swing back and forth slowly,
Looking for what may be seen
The recent rains have given
The colors such a fresh new beauty

And we rock to and fro

The long, old red brick patio
Welcomes under a sun-baked frame
With open rafters carefully wrapped
With small white Christmas strings

To illuminate when darkness falls
If we decide to remain
The patio runs parallel to the flat-rock wall
Behind landscaped greens

And we rock to and fro

A pair of six-foot bushes, dark green
Neatly trimmed with a rounded top
Equally spaced by short spreading plants
With large light-green leaves

Several beds of orange tiger lilies
Create beauty spots
While a tall, lonely lavender lily
Sways in the gentle breeze

And we rock to and fro

The property line on three sides
Is thick, lined with evergreens
From the top of the wall where the ivy grows
The yard climbs a steep hill

And a hundred-foot walnut tree
Stands stately and ever supreme
While pairs of busy cardinals
Give nature’s touch, an extra thrill

And we rock to and fro

2010
*****

Parched Corn
By
Dennis C. Orvis

My home state of Iowa is truly a state of four seasons
I’ve seen every day of January freezing cold
Winter was not my favorite time for obvious reasons
But cheering the first day of spring never gets old

Shaking the winter blues is a real pleasure
And springtime memories, like hunting mushrooms, I’ll always treasure
Then the joys of summer, so many, are the best of all
Followed by autumn and the natural beauty of fall

When my buddies and I would tromp through the woods
Running by the river and mystical Lover’s Lane
We’ll borrow a couple ears of dried field corn along the way
Start a fire and parch some corn, outdoor life is a wonderful game

As winter flex’ its’ aging muscles for a final aggravation of the seasons’ wrath,
We know it cannot last, for spring is only days away.
The cold, too, cannot last and the Snow, ever so deep, will vanish like cotton candy at a birthday party.
Until winter finally fades into the budding trees and a tinge of green begins to show in
Last years’ lawn,
I can close my eyes and once again see the April rains and the prism blooms of the early flowers and more,
I can see the smiling faces of those I love and I am warmed because you are there. And my heart is glad, knowing love is always in season.
Love is always.

1999
*****

Our First Day, Again
By
Dennis C. Orvis

The first day of our second fifty years together has started with
the bright, cool sunshine sneaking in the window as it squeezes
through the Georgia pines and I lay awake beside you.
I am watching your pretty eyes, slowly open to the new day and
I smile as I see that sparkle that I fell in love with over fifty years
ago, dancing in the mornings light.

You look around as the room is getting lighter and a smile appears
on your lips when our eyes meet.
My mind is suddenly exploding with pictures of times and moments
we have shared, as our love has deepened with appreciation and
tenderness that only time can weave and surrender.

We begin this new, first day of our second fifty years as I offer
my hand to you, once again, with a whisper that quietly says
nothing has changed since the first time, except my love for you,
keeps growing deeper and stronger, impossible as it may seem,
every day.

Good morning, my dear, say hello to the first day
of our second fifty years and take my hand.
There is a wonderful journey waiting just for you and me and
it begins right now, this very moment,

As we share OUR FIRST DAY, AGAIN.

December 2002
Celebrating fifty years together
*****

IF
By
Dennis C. Orvis

If I had said to you in 1952, “We will have three beautiful Children.”
Would you have believed me?

If I had said to you in 1952, “We will have six beautiful grandchildren.”
Would you have believed me?

If I had said to you in 1952, “We will live in five different States.”
Would you have believed me?

If I had said to you in 1952, “We will visit every one of the States.”
Would you have believed me?

If I had said to you in 1952, “We will visit Canada, Mexico, Bahamas, Spain,
Portugal, Morocco, England, Ireland and Wales.”
Would you have believed me?

If I had said to you in 1952, “We will meet Mayors, Governors, Congressmen and
Women, Meredith Willson and even Reverend Robert Schuller.”
Would you have believed me?

If I had said to you in 1952, “Many wonderful things will happen to us and we will
never have an argument.”
Would you have believed me?

Well, my Dear, I’m sure the answer to all these questions would be no, absolutely not.
And yet they are all true.

Even today, as I slowly read each and every one again, I find it hard to believe they are
all true.

But there is something that is easy for me to believe. In 1952 I was very much in love with you. I remember clearly when I gave you twenty-two red roses for your twenty-second birthday. Yes, my Dear, I still remember.

As we celebrate your birthday once again, and our journey together continues, I want you to know my love has never changed. I believe each new day is a wonderful gift and there are so many things for us to see and to do together.

I don’t need to ask if you believe me now. Happy Birthday, my Love, take my hand. It’s
another wonderful day with another gift for us to share, together.

To Sweet Edie, my wonderful Wife
May 2003
*****

TO MY WIFE
(When visiting her folks)
By
Dennis C. Orvis

I’m out of dishes,
Out of clothes,
The floor is knee deep,
And the fridge won’t close,

The car’s on empty,
The garbage can is full,
The cat won’t eat,
And the mower won’t mow.

But other than that,
Everything is fine,
But without you,
It sure ain’t devine.
Love you…D.

P.S. See you on the 25th,
If I can get the door open!

1993
*****

THE COLOR OF LOVE
By
Dennis C. Orvis

In the Fall beauty of New England, the cool sunlight
Dances on the leaves, adding brilliance to every hue;
The gorgeous collage of so many colors,
Like the wondrous years I have spent with you.

From flaming reds to rusty browns, eye catching yellows
Splashed with orange, blend well in an evergreen frame.
A masterpiece by Nature, like our love, my dear,
Every day a special gift, each different and yet the same.

How glorious the picture, what a treasure to see
The gentle wind skipping falling leaves through the air
High above big geese are calling, flying south in a vee
Adding sound to this wonderful moment we’re privileged to share.

As the seasons change, the peaceful side of Nature
Overwhelms my senses’ as you have always done to me
Without question my seasons have been greater than
I could ever hope them to be

As I stand beside you, basking in the beauty of the season
We hear the song of the Morning Dove
I feel the warmth of your hand in mine and how my
Heart is beating, for this too, is the Color of Love.

2004
*****

A SPECIAL VALENTINE
By
Dennis C. Orvis

Close your eyes, My Love, there’s a place I want you to see,
Where Valentine’s Day is every day, take my hand, and come with me.
Welcome to my vision, it’s such a very special place,
Can you feel the warm and gentle breeze, softly touching your pretty face?

Before you open your eyes, let me tell you what we will find.
A special place no one has seen because it’s only yours and mine.
There’s a pleasing fragrance from every flower, Valentine’s growing on every tree.
The streetlights are giant candy kisses, so pleasant for the eyes to see.

The streets are paved with Oreo’s, the bushes loaded with colored berries,
And when it rains, My Dear, it rains chocolate-covered cherries.
The birds are singing love songs just for you at my request,
The air is filled with music and butterflies dancing their very best.

Where do you suppose, My Love, this wondrous place might be true?
Welcome to my heart, My Dear, where all this love is just for you.

Valentine’s Day
2005
*****

My Love is Greater
By
Dennis C. Orvis

I gaze in awe at a fossil of gray.
And my mind is filled with such wonder.

I see imprints of leaves, plants and other things,
Personalized footprints of the past to ponder.

“How old” I ask, “Is it a million years?”
I cannot tell, what was their fate?

There is a mystery here I cannot know
There is a story here that must be great.

As I place this fragile fossil in a golden frame, two-foot square
And fasten the see-through cover so you can see it ever fair.

Remember Dear, this fossil is only a million years or more
But, my love for you is eternity, ever greater, forever more

2005
*****

TWENTY-TWO RED ROSES
BY
DENNIS C. ORVIS

“We sell them by the dozen,” he said, with a smile he tried to make.
But I only wanted twenty-two, my message wasn’t getting through.

His smile became a thin wry grin, suggesting a rule I could break,
But I held my ground and said, “Red Roses please, only twenty-two!”

His face puzzled as if I could not afford twenty-four.
”It’s not money,” I said, “it’s her birthday, give your wife the other two.”

He waved his pointed finger from the back to the front door.
“All of these you see are hers,” he said, “but I’ll do it just for you.”

We had not been dating very long, our relationship was new.
I was a soldier and working part-time after hours.

It was your birthday, my Dear and I was so in love with you.
So I expressed my love with the beauty of those red flowers.

My work made it impossible to bring the flowers or be near.
So I missed that magic moment when he brought them to your door.

Twenty-two Red Roses, on your birthday, one for each and every year.
Delivered by a florist who could not have surprised you more.

Let’s pretend each magic moment we’ve shared is a beautiful Red Rose.
What a great bouquet it would be and there in the middle, I’ll be holding you.

With a love that still excites my heart as it grows and grows and grows.
And it all began with two young hearts and Red Roses, a bouquet of Twenty-Two.

2005
*****

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MY LOVE
By
Dennis C. Orvis

Happy Birthday, my Love,
How Blessed I am to share this day,
By His Grace from above,
I treasure each and every special way.

You make moments precious,
And our years, many others might wish so.
Words cannot describe this
Great love, giving my heart an overflow.

Many cards, letters and calls
From those you know and love you share,
Just to say most of all,
Because you’re best, because everyone cares.

2006
*****

My One Love
By
Dennis C. Orvis

I cannot imagine my life without you
You give sparkle to the morning dew

For you are my one love

You are my rainbow on stormy days
You are sunshine in the morning haze

For you are my one love

My heart beats wildly when you are near
And you are my joy through every year

For you are my one love, now and forever.

Valentine’s Day
February 2007
*****

YOU ARE EVERYTHING
By
Dennis C. Orvis

You are the love song my heart is always singing,
You are the beauty my eyes ever see.
You are the joy that warms my soul.
You are everything to me.

You are the calm that tempers my wild-eyed schemes.
You are the inspiration that brings the best of me.
You are the reason for all my dreams.
You are everything to me.

You are the ideal mother of our special three.
You are to six grandkids, a great Nana, you see.
You are their mentor, a fine example to be.
You are everything to me.

So on this day, happier I could not be.
Celebrating fifty-five years together as close as can be.
I love you so much and I know you’ll agree.
You are everything to me.

November 27, 2007
Happy Anniversary
*****

PEEKING
By
Dennis C. Orvis

I saw her peeking through the evergreens,
Where Mother Nature painted snow.
With an elfish grin, her lovely eyes,
Embellish her rosy red cheeks aglow.

Our breath can be seen in the cold winter air,
But this moment gives such warmth to me.
It tells me again what I have always known,
This love we share was ever meant to be.

2008
*****

Bigger than Alaska
By
Dennis C. Orvis

In your wildest imagination, did you ever imagine this? Nearly five thousand miles from Home,
Celebrating your birthday in Alaska, three days by dog sled to Nome.
In your wildest imagination, did you ever see such blue ice?
Glaciers as high as buildings, every view outstanding as camera’s entice.

In your wildest imagination did you ever imagine beauty such as this?
Everywhere you look a postcard smiles back with Nature’s kiss.
And yet, overwhelming, as it appears to be, Alaska is second to my love for you.
You see, my love is greater than the universe and my heart sings forever true.

In your wildest imagination did you ever see the years we have shared?
I did my dear, from the very first and every moment since. I have always cared.

May 2008
*****

HOW MUCH DO I LOVE YOU?
(To my wife)
By
Dennis C. Orvis

On a clear summer night, can you count the stars?
On mountains so high, can you count the flowers?
During a springtime rain, can you count the raindrops that fall?
In the seven great oceans, can you count the fish in them all?

Or the blades of prairie grass or the bees in a hive?
Or the leaves in the forest bringing fall foliage alive?
Or the songbirds singing their sweet melodies?
Or the feelings we share in a warm summer breeze?

How much do I love you? Just add all these things
Then multiply the flutters of Hummingbird wings.
And you’ll have but a fraction of my great love for you
Through the wonders we have shared and the future years too.

2008
To: My wife Edie on our fifty-sixth anniversary.
“I love you more than words can ever express, even these.”
*****

FOREVERMORE,FOREVERMORE
By
Dennis C. Orvis

When the morning sun paints the eastern skies
And the sparkling sunrays reach your eyes,
I think of you

When the marshmallow clouds float gently by
And pretty birds speckle the light blue sky,
I think of you

When the soft winds caress the swaying trees
And beautiful flowers attract Honey Bees,
I think of you

When Locusts call and the evening’s new
And the moon travels through the nighttime blue,
I think of you

When the wise old Owl sings his one note song
And the dew embraces the new mown lawn,
I think of you

All of this, my dear, and so much more is true
As these thoughts proclaim my great love for you

On this Valentine’s Day, like all those before
My love abides for you, forevermore, forevermore.

February 2009
*****

WONDERFUL
By
Dennis C. Orvis

W is for wonderful, for that is what you are.

O is for only, you’re the only one for me.

N is for nice, you’re the nicest one by far

D is for delighted, it’s what you make me be

E is for everything, that’s what I love about you

R is for rich, that’s how you make me feel

F is for fantastic, in all the things you do

U is for unbelievable, the dreams you’ve made real

L is for the love we share on this and every day.

Together they spell wonderful, Happy Birthday,
“Wonderful” on this your special day.
May 26, 2009
*****

Anniversary Fifty-Seven
By
Dennis C. Orvis

Well, my Dear, we’ve caught up with Heinz,
Fifty-seven years, a million good times.

Oh how I cherish those times we’ve shared,
Yet nothing can measure how much I’ve cared.

How fortunate we’ve been to see our children grow
How wonderful to watch grandkids develop and glow

Fifty-seven years together. Can it really be true?
I have been so blessed every day, to spend them with you.

Happy Anniversary, My love. Here’s to many more.
I will always love waltzing with the gal I adore

November 2009
*****

As Sure
By
Dennis C. Orvis

As sure as the flowers will bloom again,
My love is true

As sure as the stars will twinkle and shine
My love is true

As sure as bees will collect the pollen
My love is true

As sure as the grapes will color the vine
My love is true.

In the spring our love was so very young, exciting, fresh and new
Your voice, your touch thrilled my wildly beating heart

In the summer our love was bridged by a growing family
The country’s greatness welcomed us to every part

In the fall our love remained strong as our house
Emptied to colleges and careers began to evolve

And now in the winter of our love, our young ones
Have families and careers and young ones to revolve

Oh what a wonderful ride, oh what a wonderful joy we continue to share
and our love is still true

As sure as the rainbows will be ever beautiful, we’ll ever care
And our love will ever be true.

2010
*****

How Much Do I Love You?
By
Dennis C. Orvis

How much do I love you?
Could it be a hillside covered with yellow daffodils?
Or a train loaded with Oreos?
Or a necklace filled with cameos?

How much do I love you?
Could it be a room blanketed with carnations?
White and red and purple creations?
Or just holding your hand with loving sensation?

How much do I love you?
Just the thought of you can make my day!
Or a dream of you will light my way!
Or holding you gives meaning that words can never say!

How much do I love you?
The answer my dear, is one you always knew.
It’s the untold thousands of moments between us two.
Plus one more, this special time, Happy Birthday to you!

May 26, 2010
*****

Wishes and Dreams
By
Dennis C. Orvis

If I could make a dream come true
This is what I would wish for you
Good health and happiness, I know
If I could I would make it so

If I could make a dream come true
This is what I would dream for you
The greatest true love I could find
If I could dream it would be mine

If I could make a wish come true
Or maybe make a dream come true
Either one involves me and you
So I could spend my life with you

2010
*****

The Thought of You
By
Dennis C. Orvis

A day without sunshine is cloudy, misty and often wet

It is sad and depressing to many and yet

I miss and think of you when we’re apart

On a day when it snows the entire day

Or a day with storms that won’t go away

The thought of you always warms my heart

Whenever clouds, rain, snow and storms start

The thought of you brings bright sunshine to my heart

2010
*****

Our Magic Box
By
Dennis C. Orvis

We have this wonderful box,
Which we will forever treasure
It’s full of special memories
Of terrific times of shared pleasure

We are so blessed,
Our box always has room for more
It is a magic wonder box
For it can never overflow

It’s in our hearts, yours and mine
Where our thoughts can always soar
Today we toast another great time
Happy anniversary! As we add one more.

2010
*****

The Wedding Anniversary
By
Dennis C. Orvis

We often hear the word anniversary referring to weddings in most cases
Celebrated with cards, special dinners, parties and smiling faces

Cards with tender loving words, perhaps a few intentions so funny
Are read or passed around for all to see but not the gift cards or the money

It was during one of these events I wondered which anniversary shined the best
Could one wedding anniversary be more important than all the rest?

Obviously the first one is quite important if there is to be any more
But is it more important than number two, three or four?

Number five is pretty important a milestone of some kind
Plus all anniversaries ending in five or zero quickly comes to mind

Anniversary twenty-five is extra special to all that care
And number fifty, the golden one is terrific for all to share

But how about all the others, in between the fives and o’s
Certainly not unnoticed accented by a card or pretty rose

And all those anniversaries over the golden one, you see
Are extremely important to my true love and me

I guess the answer to my question might depend on who the individuals might be
And how much they mean to each other and how they traveled rough waters of the sea

For every trip through life is different we do the best we can together
And those hand in hand in love will survive the storms, all kinds of weather

So my dear, as I have said many times Lo, a thousand thousand times before
My love for you is ever strong and true, Happy Anniversary forever and ever more.

2011
Note: For my wonderful wife
On anniversary fifty-nine
On Thanksgiving Day
*****

The Magic Word
By
Dennis C. Orvis

Many years ago, when I was a young man, wandering
Through life, searching for purpose and reason
I found a magic word that changed my life, energized
My heart and gave beauty to every season

I dreamed the dream, but I could not know how
Wonderful our future together would be
Now we know well, so many years of love and joy
Because the magic word was and will always be
Edie, My one love,
Happy 59th Anniversary!

November 27, 2011
*****

Heaven Calls Everyone
By
Dennis C. Orvis

Can you hear my voice calling?
Calling, Calling, Calling
When morning light shines through

Can you hear my voice calling?
Calling, Calling, Calling
When the day is new

Can you hear my voice calling?
Calling, Calling, Calling
When the sun sets from view

Can you hear my voice calling?
Calling, Calling, Calling
When the stars fill the blue

Can you hear my voice calling?
Calling, Calling, Calling
Behold, it is my love for you.

Calling, Calling, Calling.

2012
*****

A Special Day
By
Dennis C. Orvis

It’s early morning, precisely six thirty-eight
The sky is orange-lavender, framed by a tinge of blue

The picture we see, only nature can create
And I am very blessed to spend this special day with you

The anxious morning sun is trying to appear
There it is! A brilliant pink-orange tip, the first view

My joy is more than doubled, having you so near
Counting my blessings and the great love I’ve shared with you

How fast the sun is rising, hurrying to be on its way
Impatient for its journey across the sky, of fantastic blue

As I hold your hand, we’re young again, embracing this special day
And sharing another Mother’s Day, created my love, just for you.

May 2012

Note: This is my 500th poem
To my wife with love
*****