Thinking Of Our Angel

Thinking of our Angel I wrote on the sixth anniversary of Andrea's death. ( 5 FEB 2006)

Andrea Marie Scherling, was a lot more then my stepson Brad's girlfriend. She was a friend to everyone she ever met. I truly believe she knew her time in this world would be short, so she lived it with love and happiness...

It's been six years,
yet... time seems
like it was yesterday.

Wonderful memories
will always guide us
and lead us...

We all know
that we were blessed...
a vibrant smile,
a warmth shown
by an enlightened
spiritual presence.

It's been six years
since Andrea Marie left
and it's been six years
since an angel
entered our lives

We've been blessed
more then once
for we know
by our side...
she will stay

Andrea Scherling

My tribute poems started with the lady pictured below.  The poem below is not one of them though.  Andrea
Scherling wrote it two weeks before her death. Andrea died at the age of 18, from a rare heart defect. She
was truly a special person, wise before her years. She left this world on February 5, 2000. She loved to
write, years later, people were still finding notes of hers. So today, I'd like to introduce her to all of you.

Andrea wrote this in a card and gave it to me, shortly before one of my ex-wife's surgeries for cancer. She
was a vital part of our families recovery plans. She often stayed up late talking with Betty at our kitchen
table. She offered to babysit, if Betty couldn't do it and offered to drive Betty to her chemo sessions. She
was a true friend to this whole family and I'm still amazed at how much she taught me. Andrea was part of
the reason, my book ended up with a chapter entitled "Omega." When I presented the idea to include her in
my book to her Mom, she loved it, saying her worse fear would be that people would forget her daughter.
Believe me, anyone who knew her will never forget her.  Now folks... here is Andrea...

"The love of those,
who care for us,
can be a healing thing.
As warm and bright and comforting,
as sunny days in spring.
The love of those who care for us,
So often brings a smile.
To cheer our thoughts,
To lift our hearts,
To make life, more worthwhile.

The love of those who care for us,
Can help us everyday.
For love's the kind of miracle,
That always finds a way."

No, this won't be easy,
Nor will it be short.
But the situation exists.
What we need to do now,
Is let the doctors do their work,
And be at Betty's side.

Through each operation,
And each therapy session,
We must hold Betty's hand.
She is strong and so are you.
But when you start to break down,
Dave, remember all the people,
That are here for you.
I'll be the first in line,
To listen, if you let me.
Let's get Betty through this.
God Bless,
Sincerely,
Andrea Scherling

Mr. Production Superintendent Man

How many bosses in your life did you truly admire and respect? That made your work fun and you took pride in it? How many bosses have you worked for that wouldn't ask you to do something that he wouldn't do? In July of 2004, my boss retired. I wrote this poem in his honour. It was also the first poem someone asked me to autograph. If you got a good boss, cherish him (or her) because when they leave, nothing is ever the same. Jerry, I now appreciate more than ever all the things you did for ALL of us. Jerry, was originally from Oklahoma, so any southerners out there may understand the "twang" in his voice, which I tried to do in the poem.

God Damn, Mr. Superintendent man.
Running a bakery on cruise control,
Always running at a steady flow!
He gave it his all - his heart and soul.
Tell us, you don't have to go!
Your stories you told a time or two,
From Dallas and Kansas City, too.
But the one's we'll remember best,
Happened right here.
I'm sure, they'll never, be put to rest.

By the oven, nuts on the floor.
A scared worker,
Heading for the mixing room door.
"I wouldn't have done that,
If I was you!"
All he saw was Jerry's veins,
Turning deep blue.
"Get the buckets,"
Said more then one time.
But you always restored order,
Until things were running just fine.

You could see through our lies.
"Bull shhhhiiittttt."
Originality, we would try.
"I'm in jail,"
But this too, would fail.
How many gray hairs,
Did you receive,
When we tried to deceive?

You told us your roots,
Down Oklahoma way.
Kunta Campbell, was born that day!
Words you never wanted to hear,
"Not my job."
And you proved it, year after year.
Our "String bean,"
Was a tall, lean, working machine!

On July 2nd, 2004,
You'll take one final walk,
Out the side door.
With tears and applause,
We'll say good-bye.
If you listen closely,
The building....
Will let out a sigh.

Ode To The Fruitcake Man

A man I worked with for the last 11 plus years retired in 2007, after being in the baking business for over 40 years. I wrote this poem and the company put it on some fancy paper and than had it professionally matted and framed.  I enjoy these types of personal poems, which I read at the retirement party. The real thrill, for me, is reading it with a pause in a certain place, bringing it to life. By the end, I had the guy in tears! Success!!!





there was a man a long, long, time ago
who talked of fruits and bread dough
he preached of the sweets and the booze thrown in
and how his product was better then sin

through the years he walked in many doors
coast to coast at food shows, shops, and stores
it didn't take long for the word to get around
when the fruitcake man was back in town

trying to convince others of its unique appeal
always dreaming of the million pound deal
"if we could do this," or "if we could do that"
"man, our wallets would certainly get fat"

Yeah, he was the man that sold fruitcakes
don't laugh, he heard all the jokes, for goodness sakes
fruits and nuts will never look the same
he's throwing in the towel, retiring from this game

somewhere in fruitcake lore
will be the story of the man who walked these floors
as he gets in his truck and rides away
we'll wave... and remember the good old days

Joyful Memories

For two years, I worked with a young man, who was a joy and a headache at the same time. He lived life to the fullest and found joy in making others laugh. He was killed in a car crash about eight months ago and I don't think there was one day at work that didn't pass without someone telling a story about Jon. He was an innocent, carefree, intelligent man who at the same time could be characterized as a "bull in a china shop."

July 9, 2005 would have been Jon's 25th birthday. With this poem I wanted his parents to know, that we still think about them and that Jon is still a very big part of our memories...

Not quite a quarter of a century
dreams never totally realized
not quite long enough to leave a legacy
broken hearts, still mourns, still cries

Not quite 25 years
couldn’t achieve your goals
today, we remember with tears
a young man with a carefree soul

At work, you seem to make the day
joking and looking for a bite to eat
with things you did or words you’d say
shaking our heads, laughing out of our seats

Your memory will always live on
stories retold time after time
still hard to believe you’re gone
your smile lives on in our mind

It was hard to stay mad
at some of the things that were done
you’re one of a kind and I’m glad
we got to share time under the same sun

Gave it your all and you lived with a zest
Today on your birthday,
wishing you peace and rest
Spreading your wings you began to fly
And I’m sure you’re saying…
“I’m happy, please don’t cry.”

What Would He Had Said

In memory of Jon Shada, died in a car crash in October of 2004.  I trained Jon where we worked.  A young man who loved life.

When this young man,

Is laid to rest,

We're left wondering,

Did we see him at his best?

Plans for a future, he often told.

Ideas were creative and bold!

Told with a sparkle in his eye,

Of inventions,

He'd be willing to try.

Happy and carefree,

This is what we'd all see.

A smile, that put us at ease.

With a joke, he'd try to tease.

There was no anger or hatred,

From this gentle-man.

He enjoyed his time,

Living in this land.

Dreams of college,

Were on the way.

He had hopes for a better day.

We lost more,

Then a young man today.

A voice for our future....

.....went silent....

...........nothing more to say....

A Man With Many Title

A poem I wrote and read at my ex-father-in-law's funeral in 2004



Many years ago,
A child was born!
George would be his name.
For the rest of his time,
In this world,
Many lives, would never be the same.

He was the joy,
Of his Father and Mother.
And his titles had begun.
He was a son,
And also a brother!
Adulthood made him a husband and a Dad.
War came, his little family,
Became fearful and sad.
A son, brother, husband, Dad,
And now, a soldier, too.
But his titles were far from being through!

When he returned, his family grew!
Four sons and a daughter, too.
A simple life, is what he would stress.
For five kids, on a farm,
They were truly blessed.
A new title, a farmer,
He would receive.
But his wife and children,
Would be all he'd need.

His titles still far from done,
George would add a few more,
Living his days, under the Sun.
Grandpa came!
For his grandkids,
He always had time,
To play some games.
He watched his family, grow and thrive.
Pretty soon, Great-Grandpa, came alive!
He reminded us, that family came first.
It helped fill our spiritual thirst.

When his time comes to an end,
A message to his family, he will send.
"By your side, I will stay.
I'll be here each and everyday.
Its OK, the pain is no more.
Please don't rush, I'll be waiting for you,
At Heaven's door."

Our Mom And Best Friend

A poem I read at my ex-mother-in-law's funeral in 2005... I entitled it



Jim, Harold, John, Betty, and Ray
your children... and their families...
we’re all with you on this special day.

We’re comforted with thoughts,
of a sleep full, peaceful rest
and through our tears
we know we were blest.

Many pictures line our walls
but our memories will be the best of all
the stories that you often told
sharing a family history, worth more then gold

No more walkers... no more pain...
no more wheelchairs... able to walk again
we’ll find comfort knowing Dad
is by your side, showing you the way
and we’ll smile as we watch you two
dance the days away...

So many pants patched, hems raised,
buttons replaced and quilts made.
So many meals prepared, so many beds made
your work never seemed to be done,
but yet, you always had time for us and shared
in our fun.

You watched your children,
have children of their own
and your love for them was well known.
These grandchildren of yours,
kept the family tree alive
and it all started with the original family of five

13 grandchildren and 9 great-children, too
descendants of both Dad and you
it was your love that kept this family alive
and it is this love... that will always be by our side

Someday we’ll smile again...
but right now it’s hard...
...we lost our best friend...

Their Time

On New Years Eve Day 1939, my in-laws (ex) were married. Except for two years during WWII and the year after my father-in-law past away, they spent every year together. New Years Eve 2005 they celebrated their first anniversary together for all eternity. I only had the privilege of knowing them for nine years, but they were truly magnificent people.  I wrote this poem using their thoughts and words...


On a cold winter day
our hearts were warm
by each others side we would stay

Only separated by World War II
at the end of the year
always reminiscing, saying “I do.”

In Marysville, Kansas we became one
New Years Eve was everyday
and our love was never done

Commitment our children would see
a bond they’d understand
within the strength of family

Love grew with new sons and daughters, too
children by marriage
we love everyone of you

We watched you start families of your own
grand-children bouncing on our knees
our little children were now grown

The years kept flying by
but we were never alone
now great-grandchildren were by our side

We’ll always be with you
but now it’s time
never forget we love you

We’re starting a new life together
it’s fresh and it’s new
and our love will last forever…