The Man That He Was, and Still Is

(A Pre-Memorial Poem for Bob Lind) Well the day that I met Bob Lind stays in my mind For we met in a restaurant farmer’s still use, A fond memory with me for twenty five years, Of friends meeting for coffee, of sharing of news. We both sat at the counter as I ate my lunch And no accident that conversation soon brewed For the fragrance of coffee was strong in the air And the warmth of this man never be misconstrued. His Nebraskan corn cutting would not start for weeks, My Dakota wheat harvest soon coming around, But the news there was slim so we talked about him And of Holdrege, while biscuits and gravy were downed. And, in fact, I was on my way North to cut wheat, Overnighting in Holdrege as much welcomed break, Oklahoma - Dakota six hundred mile drive, Eighty years in Ag produce my father’s big stake. “Are you anxious to get on your way?” Bob asked me. “Would be fun for me, really, to show you around!” “There’s my church, my farm land, and the house of my birth, And my home with my wife (now deceased) to astound.” As it turned out I wasn’t in much of a rush, I am really glad now I decided to stay, It cemented a friendship that’s lasted for years Always warm welcome waiting when I was away. So we got in his pickup, I got the grand tour, Saw home basement’s faux bunkhouse he created there, Where the only things missing were cowboys asleep, Or men smoking on porch in their long underwear. “Listen Brian,” he said, as our time winded down, When you’re coming through town, either way, to or fro There is really no reason to book a hotel... I would really be happy to see you you know.  And so that’s how it’s gone for near twenty five years On my road to wheat fields or supporting my folks There were years that I found myself staying with Bob Sometimes four to eight times without needing to coax. In more recent years as my friend started to fail For he’s in his late eighties although he’s still strong My real friends are his daughter and granddaughter too And I’m guessing that Bob won’t be with us for long. It is clear that he can’t really know who I am Even if I come visit him twice every day, But in remarkable ways my friend Bob still is Bob And his smile says he always is ready to play. My last visit could be the last time that we meet Conversation was simple as first day it seemed He was watching TV and in time we held hands We both slept but he never did say if he dreamed. Brian Johnston July 19, 2016