Friday, October 12, 2018

Grandma Bowen's Life History 2018

I've spent the past year helping my Grandma Bowen compile a historical record of her life, and was finally able to publish it in June before her 80th birthday. We celebrated her birthday at a recent family reunion, and I was asked to present a shorter version of her life history. As a result, I put my poetry writing to work and came up with this poem.

Grandma Bowen’s Life History Poem

1938-1948
A bouncing baby girl was born in June of ‘38
The Hemsley family fell in love, but couldn’t pick a name.
They stuck her hand into a hat. She grabbed a piece of paper.
“Nada” was the name she chose, so that’s the name they gave her.

She grew up on the Plano farm with two sisters and two brothers.
She learned to sing, and work, and play from Father and from Mother.
Her friends were always cherished, whether real or “make-believe.”
And at the age of eight she got baptized by Uncle Reed.

1948-1958
Nada loved to go to school each day. She loved to read and write.
One day she cut her long hair short and cried most of the night.
Her patriarchal blessing was bestowed at the age of twelve.
Which promised her a life of love and service performed well.

The family moved to Rexburg where she went to Madison High.
Drama club and dancing is where she spent most of her time.
One day she saw a bright red car. The owner’s name was Garry.
They quickly fell in love and knew that someday they would marry.

1958-1968
While Garry chose to serve a mission, Nada went to school.
She learned to be a teacher at the famous B.Y.U.
Her first class called her “Miss Hemsley,” until her love returned.
After the winter wedding, “Mrs. Bowen’s” name was learned.

They started out in Logan, where Kim and Pam were born.
Then off to Jackson for the summer, working night and morn’.
A few years down in Fresno, then Bates, then Brigham City.
While two more children joined the fun. Their names were Craig and Cindy.

1968-1978
A new job moved their family to a place near Murtaugh Lake.
Where the kids could ride a horse and, in the winter, learn to skate.
Mrs. Bowen served her ward and taught in elementary schools.
Where Pam and Craig passed through her class and learned her classroom rules.

Then opportunity knocked again and soon they moved once more.
To a town called Sugar City, not knowing what’s in store.
A massive flood destroyed their home and many things were lost.
But faith and family kept them strong despite the heavy cost.

1978-1988
The years had quickly come and gone. Soon Kim was on a mission.
And Pam was writing letters to a guy that she was missin’.
But when the Elders both returned, the wedding bells were ringing.
And soon their families welcomed sounds of new born babies singing.

Nada bid farewell to both her Dad and Sister Ruth.
Their passing was a bittersweet reminder of gospel truth.
While serving in the Ricks College Relief Society,
They sent Craig on his mission after a history trip back east.

1988-1998
Another missionary flew the nest as Cindy left for Guam.
She went back for another trip, and this time brought her Mom.
Awards were given for Outstanding Teacher of the Year.
Mrs. Nada Bowen earned the title and the right to cheer!

Her sister Beth joined Dad and Ruth in heavenly reunion.
And soon her Mother followed, adding to the sweet communion.
With empty nests they packed their things and moved up to The Farm.
Where Nada retired with 30 years of memories so warm.

1998-2008
The Idaho Falls Temple had a job for her to do.
With Garry by her side, they served the Lord and people too.
The Farm was sold and tears were shed as memories said goodbye.
They moved closer to the temple and had family nearby.

She gathered Hemsley History and made quilts to pass the time.
They even went to Europe and saw Norway’s fiords sublime.
But Garry’s health was failing; cancer caught them by surprise.
The man she loved was called back home; the hardest of goodbyes.

2008-2018
Her family rallied ‘round her and she traveled quite a bit.
From Rigby down to Utah and Arizona. What a trip!
She lived in Eagle, Idaho for a year, or two, or three.
Then settled down in Bountiful close to Cindy’s Family.

Her family keeps on growing, adding members every year.
She loves to see their faces as they fill her with great cheer.
Her life of love and service is a blessing to us all.
Happy Birthday, Grandma Bunny! We love you most of all!

Monday, July 24, 2017

The Mother Of Us All

I asked my husband what I should get for my grandmother on her 80th birthday this year, and he suggested that I write a poem for her. Happy Birthday, Grandma Bartschi!

The Mother Of Us All

Eighty years of memories
Eighty years of life
Born in Ogden, Utah
To a Farmer and his wife

Raised by faith and family
Grown on wool and wheat
A Rancher's first born daughter
So beautiful and sweet

Full of generosity
And kindness from the start
You met a Bartschi cowboy
Who went and stole your heart

You married in the temple
For all eternity
And then became the mother of
Our great big family

Six beloved children
With families of their own
'Grand' and 'Great-Grand' babies
Almost all have fully grown

You keep us in your daily thoughts
Remember us in prayer
Send birthday cards and Facebook posts
To let us know you care

We cherish every blanket
Each quilt you made by hand
They bring us warmth and comfort
And hold memories so grand

You spent your life in service
To church and family
A wonderful example
Of Christ's pure charity

You taught us what's important
By showing us the way
To love and serve our neighbors
Each and every day

We love you Grandma Karolyn
Though you think your work is small
We owe our lives to you
The 'Grand' mother of us all

Saturday, January 14, 2017

Montee LeGrand

This is a poem I wrote for my brother and sister-in-law after they lost their sweet baby to a miscarriage in August 2016.

Montee LeGrand

Our angel baby came to us 
For just a little while.
We longed to hold him in our arms
And see his gentle smile. 

But Heavenly Father needed him; 
His mission was fulfilled. 
His body we created, 
But his heart, The Father stilled. 

The world may never know him,
And dear loved ones may forget 
We have an angel baby 
Whom we haven't met just yet. 

Our family is forever 
Through God's eternal plan. 
He will never be forgotten, 
Our son, Montee LeGrand.

Wednesday, November 11, 2015

My Man In Uniform

A poem for my husband on Veteran's Day 2015

My Man In Uniform

I fell in love with him long before 
He felt the call to serve.
His love for God and Country
And the freedom we deserve,

Has motivated him to seek
The wounded and the lost,
That’s why his uniform bears the symbol
Of the Chaplain’s cross.

He may not “fight” for freedom,
Like other soldiers do,
His weapon is his faith in God,
And love for me and you.

He knows the heavy price they pay,
To keep our nation free.
And so he tends to broken hearts,
And wounds we cannot see.

He says he couldn’t do it all,
Without me by his side.
But when I wash his uniform,
My heart still bursts with pride.

For I am just a soldier’s wife,
With battles of my own,
But I gladly share his burden,
To protect our family’s home.

Our freedom is a precious thing,
Without it, we’d be lost.
Yet sometimes we forget the ones,
Who pay the highest cost.

So when you stop to thank him,
For keeping our land free,
That man who stands in uniform,
Yes, he belongs to me.

Monday, November 5, 2012

The Big 3-0

My husband did not like the idea of turning 30, so I wrote him this poem for his birthday.

The Big 3-0

My Hubby turned 30-years-old today.
He still has his teeth and his hair isn't gray.
His body's in shape (with a few aches and pains).
But he's not really ready for walkers or canes.

You see, 10 years ago he was young and care-free,
Making plans to become what he wanted to be.
Met his wife and got married at age twenty-three.
Worked hard and got smart with three college degrees.

But now here he sits on this day of all days,
Thinking youth is behind him in so many ways.
With two kids already and one on the way,
It's hard not to think of the bills he will pay.

Yet his wife (two years younger) is thoughtful and kind,
And gently reminds him he's losing his mind,
That thirty's a number, just like twenty-nine,
And if HE'S old, then SHE's old, so don't even whine.

There's plenty of life to be lived on this Earth,
Your wife thinks you're hot, so stop measuring your girth.
Who cares if it's been 30 years since your birth?
It takes more than a number to measure your worth.

Happy Birthday, My Love.
May you always remember
We promised to battle "old age"
TOGETHER.

So I'll grab your teeth,
And you grab my sweater.
We'll munch on our pain meds
'Till everything feels better. :)

Sunday, March 26, 2006

In Her Eyes

While I was in nursing school, our instructor told us to make something creative to present our experiences after working in a psychiatric unit. I decided to write a poem about my first patient who had dementia.

In Her Eyes

After 85 years she has come to this place,
A woman with tears in her eyes.
Her thoughts are as clear as the look on her face,
But no one will hear her cries.

The years have crippled her delicate frame.
She limps as she crosses the floor.
On paper she's nothing more than a name,
But deep in her eyes there is more.

As she unfolds her sad tale of days gone by,
And the way that things used to be,
My listening ear gives her wings to fly,
And she shows her true colors to me
.
The woman she was before all of the pain,
Was a person just like you and me.
Her family and friends had all left their stain
On the woodwork of her precious dream.

I take her small hand and I place it in mine,
Not knowing the wounds it would mend.
She thanks me for being so caring and kind,
The acts of a dear and true friend.

As we say our farewells and I turn for the door, 
I see something I recognize.
My own reflection in the mirror was no more
Than the woman I saw in her eyes.

Monday, February 4, 2002

Dana Lyn Bartschi - Epitaph

When I was a Junior in high school, our English teacher gave us an assignment to write an epitaph poem about our life. This is what I wrote when I was 17-years-old.

Dana Lyn Bartschi

Born on a cold and wintry day
Dana Lyn Bartschi was the child’s name.
Asleep in the cradle there, she lay
Dreaming of heaven from whence she came.

Her parents stood watching, admiring with care
The baby girl that was lying there.
Her porcelain white skin and her jet black hair
Looked radiant in the midnight air.

The years went by and the child grew.
Her hair turned brown and her eyes bright blue.
Adventure and happiness was all she knew.
Life was a fairy tale for her that came true.

As the years passed on, she had reached her teens.
Ribbons and bows changed to t-shirts and jeans.
In high school she learned of things she’d never seen,
So she went off to college to find what they mean.

A young woman now and a mother of three
Already becoming what she wanted to be.
A mother, a wife, with a nursing degree,
Starting to raise her own family.

Tears streaked her face as she watched her young lad
Receive his diploma and give a hug to his dad.
Full of the memories and experiences she’d had.
Now the house would be empty, lonely, and sad.

Or so she thought, but the years flew by,
And soon she became the grandmother of five
Her home was filled with the laughter and cries
Of her family; the joy that brought tears to her eyes

She died on a cold and wintry day.
Dana Lyn Bartschi was the old woman’s name.
Peacefully sleeping there, she lay
Dreaming of heaven from whence she came.