Best Station Wagon Poems
Invaded by the tribe
The old station wagon
Pulls to halt in my driveway.
The five children fall out
of its rusted doors
shouting and laughing.
She turns off the noisy engine.
Slips ghostlike from the drivers seat.
Her five hours of driving
In a bedlam of her children’s noise.
Looking so slight and frail.
My heart melts again.
I enfold her in my arms
And whisper thanks for coming.
Even though I have moaned
About her children’s disruptions.
The extra work cooking
And entertaining.
I look into my sisters face
And whisper I love you Sis.
You are always welcome
In my house.
And in my heart
After checking the Sears and Roebuck and Montgomery Wards catalogs until their pages were torn and faded, we took one last look at the sales ads in the local newspaper, donned our socks and sandal, and jumped into the station wagon to head out to that brand new shopping place called ‘The Mall’. Wheee doggies it was something. That joint was a jumpin’. It was cool and hip and out of sight. I mean it was really far out man. The mall had everything you could imagine, all in one building. There was store after store jam-packed with VCRs, rotary dial phones, cassette tapes, console TVs, One-Hour Photo, Blockbuster, and Toy’s-R-Us. It seemed like they had everything under the sun ready for a layaway plan.
After paying for the purchases with paper checks written in cursive, we’d head on down to the food court or the all-you-can-eat buffet for lunch. We’d sit on the red plastic-covered chairs and light up a couple of Kents, Chesterfields, Viceroys, Virginia Slims, or maybe some Lucky Strikes. We’d take a couple of pictures with our trusty Polaroid to commemorate the day by adding them to the family photo album. At the end of the day, the kids would jump into the back of the station wagon for a nap while we drove the two-hour-long trip back home. It was a good thing we only had to stop for gas once because, after all that shopping and eating, I only had two dollars left from the fifty we started out with. Seems like the high cost of just living is one thing that will never die.
On Main street’s sidewalks,
the store sign say they are closed,
is Christmas canceled.
The 60's
The look was penny loafers, bobby socks,
pleated skirts, button up shirts,
bell bottom pants and headbands
Flower children were also the era,
Stood for peace and love also political movement
Listen to the music of the Beatles, Monkeys, Rolling Stones plus many more.
My heart throbbed for John Lennon, so young and in love
In my private time I listen to Liberace on the radio
Danced the Twist, Jerk, Monkey, Mashed potato, and the Watusi
I love to dance at the school Sox Hop dances up on the bleachers
Swinging my long auburn hair to the waist, back and forth
My hips moved to the twist
While everyone else danced on the gym floor
Mom’s favorite hair style, the Beehive
Dad looks so good looking behind the wheel of his 1959 De Soto station wagon
A child’s joy jumping rope, hopscotch, jacks,
Rotating a Hula hoop around my waist
Playing marbles with the boys
My favorite, climbing trees but
It always came with a broken bone
Our 35th president was John F. Kennedy
I was sitting in a swing in the playground
When we all heard he had been fatally shot
I was only 12 then
Tears ran down my face when I heard
People weren’t being treated equal
He stood for Equal Rights
We lost great man was that day
Growing up in the 60s was fun, but also very sad
Contest Name: Decades The 60’s * 2nd Place
Sponsor: Kelly Deschler
My Favorite Pet
I was a lanky pre-teen
with course, thick blond hair
on that hot summer day
when mom, sister and I
rode in our station wagon of gray
to see our potentially new Collie pup
A mere 4 months old
love pouring out of her eyes
as she ran up
A thick, shiny fur coat
and 4 toothpick legs
Like a connection I never felt before
in so many ways
For 7 wonderful years, Shelby brought light
to my darkest of days
took "me" for long walks
slurping cooked noodles the craze
all the neighbors knew Shelby
on Mulberry Lane
Towards the end of Shelby's days
her light started to dim
I knew the end was near
as tears poured from my red. swollen rims
16 years later...the course, thick hair and lankiness gone
her unconditional love lives in me
and I no longer feel alone.
Pick A Pet Contest - sponsored by Francine Roberts 7/5/2011
PLAYIN' CATCH
Mom and Dad would have the car packed the night before we left,
the station wagon filled with all the essentials we'd need for our
extended camping trips. Dad always made sure I had my ball glove
ready for rest stop breaks. This was my favorite anticipated time of
the trip!... when we would stop, Dad would tell me to grab my glove,
but I was already out the door, lookin' for a clear stretch of grass to
throw with him. Dad had the same glove all through the years, an
old, beat up version that didn't have much padding. I used whatever
glove I was currently using for the team I was playing on, either
a present from him, or a gift, sometimes from a coach. Dad wanted
me to start throwin' easy, as his eyesight wasn't all that sharp, and
he needed to limber-up first, and focus on the 'heat!' I was tossin'.
I remember he would always encourage and compliment me on my
improvement since the last time we threw!. Our trip out west, "Custer's
Last Stand"...Yellowstone National Park".... our trips to "Itasca State Park"
and "Tettegouche State Park" always settin' aside time to "play-catch".
In time, Dad couldn't follow the thrown ball very good, and I remember
when he told me he couldn't "play-catch" any more; by then I was
playin' varsity ball in high school, and Dad would come watch me play.
I always still brought his old glove and favorite 'rubber-coated' baseball
along on outings, so he wouldn't think I didn't remember he was
still my hero, whether he could throw or not. I treasure those moments
now, and always try to 'play-catch' with the little cousins of mine,
encourage and compliment them on their improvement,
.......since the last time we 'played-catch'
l
Wait a minute, is it already Christmas again
Seems I just took down the lights and the tree
Is there no rest for the downtrodden and weary
This season sometimes takes the Merry Gentleman out of me
So I load up the sleigh with the dog and the kids
The old beat up station wagon I drive
On the hunt for this years perfect tree
We'll be lucky if we make it back home alive
As we jingle all the way to the local tree farm
Six kids and a dog singing at the top of their lungs
With only twelve days left before Christmas
My Ho, Ho, Ho, is already long gone
Picking the best tree out within our budget
My wife says Charlie Brown would be proud
I ask smarty pants Mrs. Santa what she meant by that
She'd rather not say with the little elves around
Before an argument even ensues
I've lost the battle before I hit the front line
You wonder how I'm so confident of that
The same thing happened last year at this time
As I struggle to get the tree off the roof of my jalopy
While Jack the dog in the frost is nipping at my toes
I fall to the ground with visions of sugar plums dancing in my head
Waking up to the dogs frozen tongue stuck up my nose
Finally with the tree set up in the front parlor
I notice it leans bad to one side
Taking my chainsaw to alleviate the problem
The gas fumes kill my kids parakeet out right
With Hobby Lobby open late for the holidays
I was able to purchase the product I need
Working late into the wee morning hours
I did a good job shellacking the parakeet
I'm not sure that my kids even noticed
Or brought up the question what for
But they sure like the shinny new ornament
Hanging next to the hamster that disappeared the year before
Well, I survived another preparing for Christmas
As subconsciously I'm being led
To wrap myself in last years present "The Snuggie"
And dream of those sugar plums dancing in my head
Faking a heart attack
last July
was an event.
Even the feds were
marshaled for action.
Cow bells.
Whose got cowbells?
Words can’t harm you.
I’m restless.
Turn on the channel;
click on Oxford.
Turn up the volume;
Let’s play baseball.
About.
About what?
There’s a thriller.
Toot your horn.
Bring the station wagon
around front.
Business as usual.
Insomnia begins
and
I begin my backwards count from a hundred..... 100...
99....98....97........ 96.... TJ
my thoughts stray and I am lost in a daydream
in my ideal world..
in your station wagon.. saying TJ this is who I am and I am not the Anxiety Disorder
Your scent is all over my black lasenza bra
The last embrace on my porch, was bittersweet and agonizing
It's hard to to let you go... and when you go..
I sit on my staircase agitated, wondering whether using my brain rather than my heart
causes me to make the wrong choices
You are already gone, before I get the courage to face it.
The words are always on the tip of my tongue,
but exposing your weaknesses is never just simply done
You are highly dissapointed
your look of adoration has become replaced disdain and your own personal irratance.
I've all but built a four walled prison cell.
In the end he will find his long lost heroine.
He is a saint, that walks the earth unaware of it.
I will always be dissapointed in myself
To let this man I care for so much.... just go
Sometimes in life we need to want someone so much
That we have to put it all on the line,
realize the great distances we must make to improve ourselves
so that one day we can be good enough....
One day... again I could hope to be myself.
One of the oldest from of advertising the world has ever seen
Based on reputation of a person, either good or bad
It can be kind of slow or right threw a town like wildfire
Put one out of business or wipe the slate clean
Be the best news in the world or it can be pretty sad
One thing about it, it will never expire
Several years back, I was living in a small cow town
It was in West Texas, the only thing that changed was the breeze
Everyone knew everyone's business, but still they would talk
Had only one sidewalk to roll up when the Sun when down
Most everyone's attitude was do as you please
Years went by time never changed on the court house clock
Old man Livingston, had the hardware store and mercantile
Sold guns, coyote traps, even had some knitting yarn
Most everything under the Sun, probably had some moonshine in the basement
If you stayed there long enough he would make you a deal
Even had cats to get rid of mice in your barn
Told a traveling sign painter one day, " I am the advertising department"
The sign painter pulled up in an old station wagon jalopy of a rig
Filled with half empty paint cans, saw the old sign outside
"Mr Livingston, your old sign could use some paint from what I see"
"No Sir, on advertising I am not very big"
"See folks from around these parts know me far and wide"
"I will tell you my secret and I think that you will agree"
"See the first time they come in, they try to get me in the end"
"They think that they are going to get a bargain"
"And I even throw in some things for the wife"
"Then I figure up the total, Damn Livingston I thought that you were a friend"
"I give them a big old screwing, they are still trying to get even"
"And that way Son, I have them coming back for life"
My father was a man who stood strong and tall,
And in our opinion he was the best FATHER of all.
He would come home for lunch and sit us in his lap
And allow us to take off his working cap.
Mom would say no but we ate some of his food,
Dad always seem to be in such a good mood.
In the evenings, coming home and after taking his bath,
He did many things to make his kids laugh.
He would take us out for ice cream and a movie at the drive-inn.
And have us in bed way before ten.
My mom was an awesome cook; she made sure we were fed.
But I often remember it was daddy who tucked us in bed.
He had a white Chevrolet station wagon, it was red inside;
On so many occasions he would take us out for a ride.
We woud go down Highway 90 to his mama's house,
And he would leave us there to be alone with his spouse.
They would come back to get us when summer came to an end,
To take us back home because school was about to begin.
This went on for the first several years of my life;
Then there was a divorce between daddy and his wife.
He was no longer there, no longer with my mother;
But he also left me, my sisters and my brothers.
We saw him on the weekends, but it wasn't the same;
As him being at home and we could call out his name.
As I grew older, he was there for my sons,
He was there in the evening and even at dawn.
He touched their lives in a very special way,
And they are acting like him to this very day.
They are raising their children and taking up time;
To do things with them that will stay in their minds.
I pray for my sons marriages and also for thieir homes;
That they will never leave their wives or children alone.
In the marriage I pray the wives will stay,
And NEVER decide to get up and walk away.
Because it takes two to make the thing go right;
So I keep on praying every day and every night.
Tribute to Mr. Homer Yant October 25-1925 - February 5, 2012.
Penned 2/5/2015 Dad was funeralized on 2/11/2012 3 years
R olling down the freeway, for hours and hours on end
O n our much anticipated family vacation,
A ll us kids were joking, yakking, singing songs and snacking,
D azzled by scenic routes and filled with youthful elation.
T old by Dad to quiet down, we simply couldn’t do it.
R eally, what did he expect eight rowdy kids to do?
I nside that station wagon we were squeezed in like sardines.
P aradise at last arrived: to the restrooms we all flew!
My stepdad’s name was Eldon, but his best friends called him Jake.
“Missoura” born, he loved guy things like fishing on a lake.
He’d gone into the Navy after having grown up poor
and then got shipped across the ocean for Korea’s war.
Later with three kids, divorced, he met my mom and then
he married her, and we became a family of ten!
This new dad, Jake, a simple man, worked hard to keep us fed.
He liked his breakfast “Wheaties” and his lunch made out of bread.
He told us how he’d walked to school with cardboard on his feet,
and how they’d not had much to eat of costly things like meat.
I don’t know if Depression Era kids ate many greens,
but one thing we became aware of. . . Jake sure loved his beans!
I couldn’t understand how he could be so crazy for
the one food that he ate so much of back when he was poor.
But Eldon liked all kinds of beans, like those slow cooked with ham,
then topped with ketchup, and he liked beans straight out of the can.
In summer we’d be packed into his station wagon car,
a camper hooked behind us, and we always traveled far.
We’d eat bread and bologna, chips, and cans of pork and beans.
No fancy eating out for our large clan, by any means!
And on those rare occasions Mom was not around to cook,
Jake had a recipe not in Mom’s Betty Crocker’s book.
He’d mix some pork and beans with fried ground beef and heat it up
over buttered cornbread and we heartily would sup!
Recalling happy supper times like those, I sometimes wish
that we could all again be meeting for that great bean dish!
For Mom fixed lots of kinds of meals, and Eldon’s attitude
was “Clean your plates” so I (thin then) became a fan of food.
We kids moved on; Mom cooked for only Eldon. How time flew!
Our step dad passed away, and Mom no longer cooks for two.
She eats Weight-Watcher’s way now, but I bet she’d love to make
a pot of Navy beans again for her good man called Jake.
For the relatives poetry contest
Freudiana
Famous poet Barclay Cruse
curent toast of New York salons
wears tinted glasses and Italian shoes
and composes doggerel for subway johns.
Acclaimed a purist by his colleagues
hard-edge painter Geoffrey Pyle
earned during Summers spent at Antibes
covert commissions from Armstrong Tile.
Junk sculptor Cranston Bold
collects mufflers and I'm told
often edits his creations
to fix his Chevy station wagon.
Cordell composes way-out music
quartets for flute and flushing toilets.
His father was a music critic
and caned him with his clarinet.
Wait a minute, is it already Christmas again
Seems I just took down the lights and the tree
Is there no rest for the downtrodden and weary
This season sometimes takes the Merry Gentleman out of me
So I load up the sleigh with the dog and the kids
The old beat up station wagon I drive
On the hunt for this years perfect tree
We'll be lucky if we make it back home alive
As we jingle all the way to the local tree farm
Six kids and a dog singing at the top of their lungs
With only twelve days left before Christmas
My Ho, Ho, Ho, is already long gone
Picking the best tree out within our budget
My wife says Charlie Brown would be proud
I ask smarty pants Mrs. Santa what she meant by that
She'd rather not say with the little elves around
Before an argument even ensues
I've lost the battle before I hit the front line
You wonder how I'm so confident of that
The same thing happened last year at this time
As I struggle to get the tree off the roof of my jalopy
While Jack the dog in the frost is nipping at my toes
I fall to the ground with visions of sugar plums dancing in my head
Waking up to the dogs frozen tongue stuck up my nose
Finally with the tree set up in the front parlor
I notice it leans bad to one side
Taking my chainsaw to alleviate the problem
The gas fumes kill my kids parakeet out right
With Hobby Lobby open late for the holidays
I was able to purchase the product I need
Working late into the wee morning hours
I did a good job shellacking the parakeet
I'm not sure that my kids even noticed
Or brought up the question what for
But they sure like the shinny new ornament
Hanging next to the hamster that disappeared the year before
Well, I survived another preparing for Christmas
As subconsciously I'm being led
To wrap myself in last years present "The Snuggie"
And dream of those sugar plums dancing in my head
Where’s my sister gone?
The holiday season all wrapped up
A tarnished blanket of snow remains
Flipping the page into the New Year
Filling our thoughts with hope and cheer
A ringing phone, a joyful hello paused
Crying and sobbing, collapsing to her knees
Your sister, Connie’s been in a wreck
Somehow our big old blue station wagon found the way
leaving a blurry trail of street lights
Our hearts pounding, eyes filled with tears, pacing and praying
Waiting and waiting the doctor finally came in
Leading my parents away to see their little girl
Her boyfriend walked in, not even a scratch. How can that be?
She’s fighting for her life and he doesn’t even look like he’s been in the car
She flew through the windshield. He was pinned in his seat.
That New Years Eve forever changed our paths
My sisters gone, their daughter too, a jumbled family not sure what to do
Her body remains intact and functioning too
But her mind, she’ll never be the same; you know who.
I’ll never get my sister back.
A broken family, a missing link
Has made us appreciate each other every day.