Bob Dylan- M. Whitmark & Sons ASCAP
While riding on a train goin' west,
I fell asleep for to take my rest.
I dreamed a dream that made me sad,
Concerning myself and the first few friends I had.
With half damp eyes I stared to the room
Where my friends and I spent many an afternoon,
Where we together weathered many a storm,
Laughin' and singin' 'til the early hours of the morn.
By the old wooden stove where our hats were hung,
Our words were told and our songs were sung;
Where we longed for nothin' and were satisfied
Talkin' and a jokin' about the world outside.
With haunted hearts through the heat and cold,
We never thought we could get very old;
We thought we could sit forever in fun
Though our chances really were a million to one.
As easy as it was to tell black from white,
It wasn't all that easy to tell wrong from right;
Our choices were few and the thought never hit
That the road we traveled would ever shatter and split.
How many a year has passed and gone,
And many a gamble has been lost and won;
And many a road taken by many a first friend,
And each one of them I've never seen again.
I wish, I wish, I wish in vain,
That we could sit simply in that room once again;
Ten thousand dollars at the drop of a hat,
I'd give it all gladly if our lives could be like that.
This album was released in 1967. This song says so much about the feeling of the times.
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My Friend, J. C. Moore
He was a real friend—
The kind who accepted you like you were,
Who loved you in spite of your faults.
He would speak frankly to you when he thought you were wrong,
But you know he told you what he thought because he loved you too much to deceive you.
He loved the excitement of a challenge,
The joy of pioneering.
He was not afraid of life.
He kept on learning and growing and making new friends.
He loved persons more than things,
Although much of his career was spent in handling money and building buildings.
He never lost her perspective nor failed to see the forest as well as the trees.
There was a jaunty spirit about him which led him to ski and to wear a tam and ride a bicycle.
He was willing to help others achieve their goals, and often sat back and let them take the credit for work he did.
He believed in that motto, “It is amazing how much you can accomplish if you don’t care who receives the credit.”
He turned some people off with his frankness,
But he communicated with many more who found his straightforwardness refreshing.
He was a self-starter, an innovator who created novel approaches to solving old problems.
He would have made a reputation as an international banker or a professional in the State Department,
But he chose the mission field and Christian education,
And his contribution to thousands will live on and on.
He chose the better part,
And I am thankful to have been privileged to call him friend.
—M. Norvel Young
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Naomi to Sam Summer, 1972
this is dedicated to
good old Sam
through times of emotional ups and downs
romantic highs and suicidal lows
if rather independently morose—
and who most certainly has
brightened many an otherwise-dark afternoon
with slightly furrowed brown
in the driver’s seat of various and sundry
(though mostly just old)
(or at least volkswagen)
i won’t write down specifics
(though heaven knows i am plagued with such
a memory and an given quite happily to
over-sentimentality and carved or decoupaged
boxes full of bits of rocks and pocket
watches that never plan to work again.)
we will be concerned mostly here
the colors of people and days
six o’clocks in the mornings
and children’s faces.
(the rousing worship services, family get-togethers,
first-time-for-everything’s, prayers, music,
accidents and feelings i believe will just
have to wait)
if you can’t remember exactly where i fit in
with licorice and hummingbirds
please don’t worry about it
it was only after reading a suicide note from
Rodgers and Hammerstein
that i looked up
the color of your eyes.
So hard to break down barriers
Verses hide better than prose
Long days instead of talks
Barbed granite in fear of affection.
But it’s there.
If it’s taken the long way around
my goodness what a fine ride
and who’s to argue
It wasn’t so boring
Certainly quite fine.
bird feeders and Topanga canyon
(oh, no, Mr. Jackson! Are we going to
Topanga Canyon again?)
Are we going to run out of gas again,
Oh, no, we’re going to run out of gas again, kids.
Get your walking shoes on.)
deserve a thank you now and then.
Thank you, she said blushingly.
It takes so long to know the feeling of a person.
Thank you for those times.
— N.F. Harper
Below are Sara and Sam as they leave from the Beach House on their honeymoon in 1979. They dated on and off for eleven years, having met when she was 15 and he was 18. Sara saw the "potential" (a favorite family word) in Sam, who has raised more than $50 million for World Vision in his career with them. Sam was honored as the 2006 Wenatchee High School Graduate of the Year.
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untitled (Naomi’s dream) Summer, 1972
A farm! A farm!
We’ll have a farm!
Out near the forest
lots of land
a cow for milk
plants in rows of fertilizer
and a farm! a farm!
I’ll spin thread and embroider
and crochet and sew
and paint and cook and make the
quilts and heavy wool blankets
with your boots under the big
next to mine.
on our bed
will be the star pattern
Sam’s blue nightshirt flannel
and Danny’s unbleached muslin Birthday shirt
dark flowered calico from Gwen’s dress
and red white and blue curtains from L.A.
We’ll have Danny’s pottery
with plants Nancy sent
and candles we made one night
in the kitchen, before the winter came
huge, dark candles
browns and greens
made in large commercial ham cans
David got for us from his job back in L.A.
and a fine stereo, in a rustic
dark stained book case
made partly of tree stumps.
We’ll have a huge home-made rag rug in
the middle of the front room floor
and that floor will glow on Saturday mornings
dark and shiny from a waxing
two chairs and a couch made by Matt
with cushions sewn by Sally and I
and huge pillows to lie on at night
in front of the fire
with Danny playing the guitar and singing
or all singing, or praying and
Sally knitting in the corner
me crocheting a doily
and Gwen, mending Danny’s pants
Upstairs we would have four rooms.
One for Danny and Gwen –
probably the most artistic
paintings, ink drawings done by Danny
(one Gwenniepooh etching)
Deep rich curtains, and bedspread
a wooden chair with lots of pillows
a full length mirror
and one round stained glass window.
Matt and Sally’s room would be
simple, messy twice a day
(before and after Sally’s two cleanings)
Feminine, simple decoupages, knit pillows
and an old dresser with a mirror
a simple bedspread, dark flowered curtains
a pipe on the cedar chest
a knitting satchel on the floor
and a pair of Matt’s huge boots
near the bed
a huge, wooden bed with a home-made
fluffy quilt and patchwork pillowcases
drawings on the wall
one small table, with a doily
and two boxes on it,
one dark, containing memories and
pennies, and the other, a music box.
A guitar in the corner.
A bath next to
the Study, a huge, airy room with
one large desk – always crowded
with papers and memos
coffee cups and cigarette butts
rows of bookshelves from the ceiling down
with sections for
Danny, Matt, Danny,
movies, plays, Religion, crafts –
one index-file-card catalogue by Naomi
a big furry rug and a fireplace
cleaned once a week,
messy third day after.
The kitchen would be huge and warm
especially close to Christmas
Sally’s pregnant figure, moving between
the shelves and the stove, bumping and
laughing with Gwen and Naomi
rolled-up sleeves and a lock of hair
filled up by prayer and pin money
from the job Sal has till when she
needs to quit.
A loom in the front room, always filled
paintings on the wall
an old, huge upright piano with a scarf
over its top
an ancient Singer sewing machine
and lots of flowers from the garden
prayer – eating – Bible study –
reading – singing
Mail to go out, laundry
trips to town once a week
in an old timey Volkswagon
Working with each other
trying to build
open, to the Lord
A home to leave
(maybe to others)
to go out,
into the world
— N.F. Harper
“It’s – just like you’d want it. It’s so perfect.” — Danny Blair
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Grandmommie’s Cornbread 1940s
Mix/ 4 cups cornmeal
Sift 2 cups flour
2 ½ tsp. soda
4 tsp. salt
6 tsp. baking powder
Mix can refrigerated for some time.
Preheat oven to 450º.
Add to 1 cup of mix:
1 cup buttermilk
Stir quickly, don’t beat.
Melt bacon grease in seasoned cast iron skillet in oven.
Pour into mixture, stir just a couple of stirs.
Bake on top shelf at 450º for 20 minutes.
Naomi’s Coconut Cream Pie 1973
¾ c sugar
1/3 c flour
1 tsp salt
2 c milk
3 egg yolks, slightly beaten
3 T butter
1 tsp vanilla
1 1/3 c flaked coconut
Combine sugar, flour and salt; gradually add milk. Cook over medium heat until thickened, stirring constantly. Cook additional two minutes. Blend small amount of hot mixture into egg yolks, then add eggs to pan. Cook one more minute. Remove from heat. Add butter and vanilla. Cool to lukewarm, then add cocoanut. Pour into baked pie shell.
John Hutchison’s Senegalese Soup
2 cups chicken broth
½ cup sour cream/yogurt
½ cup peanut butter
½ cup applesauce
1 cup milk or half & half
Season with curry to taste as it heats; also onion salt and garlic salt if desired, ½ tsp. each. Garnish with sliced avocado and shredded coconut.