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Note: this is the 2nd HALF of this piece, a little too long to post as one poem, sorry. If you enjoy story-poems, it's definitely worth the read, believe me. (Or the "listen".) “We learned of your petition, son,” she started in again, “a great idea…and both of us believe you’re doing fine… And -- knowing you have it with you -- with this being our pride and joy…figuring you could use our help -- we’ve both come down to sign! “Here comes Harold now,” she added. “See the way he’s grinning? We’re tickled pink to know that we were right about you, son. Knowing someone cares enough about our lovely shelter to try to stop the harm they’re trying to do from being done - “Warms our hearts and makes us proud. Our dream is that the plaque - dedicating what we built - that’s nailed above the door - Goes on greeting folks like you for many years to come, so they - as well - can use this place for what we used it for.” Well…I let them sign the document, then quizzed them for a bit. Seeming fairly spry, I tried to ascertain their age, And every now and then I did my best to get a peek at what the two had written at the bottom of the page. It didn’t really matter who they were, I told myself…but some of what she’d told me had me all fired up to know. I knew they couldn’t possibly be the ones who’d had it built…not if it was done more than a hundred years ago! Figuring what she’d meant to say was - 19 -95…and given they were at an age where mem’ries tend to fail… I just sat an’ listened as they talked of days gone by…enchanted by the sweetness and nostalgia of their tale. Regardless of discrepancies, I knew - from what she’d said - they’d come to join my fight to save what had - throughout the past - Been a cherished gathering place. They’d come to help me out - to shine a light on what, for all these years, had made it last. “Thanks again,” Harold started in, “I hope ya’ don’t give up. Many people, years from now, would use this place as well, And…if you win the war to save it, they’ll have you to thank…and you will be a hero in the story people tell! “By the way…we know about your prayer to ask His help - and that, my boy’s, precisely why He sent us down today! And you’d be safe to bet your life we’ll win this little war, ‘cause once He makes His mind up, son…He always gets His way!” “Come on, Hatti…time to go,” he reached to help her stand. “He gave us just an hour, dear, and we’ve used all of that.” “Good luck, son,” she added sweetly, taking Harold’s hand, “and if you need more help from us, well…you know where we’re at.” Only seconds later they had disappeared from sight, and when I went check my list to learn what they had put, Their names were there, but nothing more…and as I cleaned the grill - brushing down the iron grate and raking out the soot - I began to wonder what to make of what they’d claimed. I chose to call them, “mem’ry flaws”,I couldn’t call them lies. Then ten or fifteen minutes later - somewhat premature - half a dozen fam’ly members took me by surprise. “What have you been doing, Mark?” my older brother quipped. “The tables still need wiping down. You haven’t lit the grill!” “The reason I’m behind,” I countered, “might sound kind o’ weird…but since you’ll prob’ly die if I don’t tell you why…I will. “The fact is…I got side-tracked for a while,” I filled him in. “A nice old couple happened by who claimed that…loooooong ago… They supplied the funds that paid to have this shelter built! But I’ve checked the county records and there’s nothing there to show “Just how old it actually is…but - what they claimed was nuts!” Then…glancing toward the entry…as I watched our Mom arrive… She paused and read --- aloud --- a tarnished plaque - above the door --- “A gift from Harold and Hattie Beaumont – 1895”!

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The Shelter - 2nd Half In Text - Plus Full Audio Version

Note: this is the 2nd HALF of this piece, a little too long to post as one poem, sorry. If you enjoy story-poems, it's definitely worth the read, believe me. (Or the "listen".) “We learned of your petition, son,” she started in again, “a great idea…and both of us believe you’re doing fine… And -- knowing you have it with you -- with this being our pride and joy…figuring you could use our help -- we’ve both come down to sign! “Here comes Harold now,” she added. “See the way he’s grinning? We’re tickled pink to know that we were right about you, son. Knowing someone cares enough about our lovely shelter to try to stop the harm they’re trying to do from being done - “Warms our hearts and makes us proud. Our dream is that the plaque - dedicating what we built - that’s nailed above the door - Goes on greeting folks like you for many years to come, so they - as well - can use this place for what we used it for.” Well…I let them sign the document, then quizzed them for a bit. Seeming fairly spry, I tried to ascertain their age, And every now and then I did my best to get a peek at what the two had written at the bottom of the page. It didn’t really matter who they were, I told myself…but some of what she’d told me had me all fired up to know. I knew they couldn’t possibly be the ones who’d had it built…not if it was done more than a hundred years ago! Figuring what she’d meant to say was - 19 -95…and given they were at an age where mem’ries tend to fail… I just sat an’ listened as they talked of days gone by…enchanted by the sweetness and nostalgia of their tale. Regardless of discrepancies, I knew - from what she’d said - they’d come to join my fight to save what had - throughout the past - Been a cherished gathering place. They’d come to help me out - to shine a light on what, for all these years, had made it last. “Thanks again,” Harold started in, “I hope ya’ don’t give up. Many people, years from now, would use this place as well, And…if you win the war to save it, they’ll have you to thank…and you will be a hero in the story people tell! “By the way…we know about your prayer to ask His help - and that, my boy’s, precisely why He sent us down today! And you’d be safe to bet your life we’ll win this little war, ‘cause once He makes His mind up, son…He always gets His way!” “Come on, Hatti…time to go,” he reached to help her stand. “He gave us just an hour, dear, and we’ve used all of that.” “Good luck, son,” she added sweetly, taking Harold’s hand, “and if you need more help from us, well…you know where we’re at.” Only seconds later they had disappeared from sight, and when I went check my list to learn what they had put, Their names were there, but nothing more…and as I cleaned the grill - brushing down the iron grate and raking out the soot - I began to wonder what to make of what they’d claimed. I chose to call them, “mem’ry flaws”,I couldn’t call them lies. Then ten or fifteen minutes later - somewhat premature - half a dozen fam’ly members took me by surprise. “What have you been doing, Mark?” my older brother quipped. “The tables still need wiping down. You haven’t lit the grill!” “The reason I’m behind,” I countered, “might sound kind o’ weird…but since you’ll prob’ly die if I don’t tell you why…I will. “The fact is…I got side-tracked for a while,” I filled him in. “A nice old couple happened by who claimed that…loooooong ago… They supplied the funds that paid to have this shelter built! But I’ve checked the county records and there’s nothing there to show “Just how old it actually is…but - what they claimed was nuts!” Then…glancing toward the entry…as I watched our Mom arrive… She paused and read --- aloud --- a tarnished plaque - above the door --- “A gift from Harold and Hattie Beaumont – 1895”!