"People, dear sweet people"

 

picture by Gary Jacobson....

I began writing poetry at the age of eleven.  That was the year that I found out about the war in Vietnam.  Yes, I lived a sheltered life, my parent's thought it was best.  The Vietnam war began before I was born and I don't blame my parent's from shielding me from the horrors of war.  They protected the innocence of my childhood.  I grew up practicing bomb-drills at school.  When the alarm went off, I would dutifully cover my head and crawl under the desk.  I thought these drills were always exciting.   Of course I knew there had been wars, but I was unaware that there was still a war raging.  Ironically the day I became aware of the war, was the day the Vietnam war was coming to an end. A cease-fire was declared.  I remember that day so clearly....  It was a bright sunny day and I was practicing the piano in the livingroom.  I heard a fire truck siren wail outside. Upon opening the door, my ears were filled with the sounds of sirens and churchbells pealing in the distance.  There were people outside clapping & others nearby were setting off fireworks.  My Mom and I stood by the door listening, watching.  After about a minute I asked, "Mom, what's happening?"  She said, "The war is over...."  I exclaimed, "There was a war?"  

I wrote this first poem at age eleven in Mrs. Henry's science class.  She was a stern teacher who demanded your attention at all times.  Unfortunately for me, I've always been a daydreamer.  Unless the subject interested me, my mind wandered elsewhere.  On this day my mind was on the war and so I began to write,  "People, dear sweet people, gather to the steeple...."

**To be continued,,,,,