Reel!...Reel Fast!

Gone Fishin’

He looked the part of an outdoors man in his bibbed overalls and red plaid shirt,

My 3-year old grandson, with his red rubber boots, was not afraid of a little dirt,

He had slept in the car during the hour-long drive,

It was sunny, yet cool, when we finally did arrive,

At the fishing pond for a day of family fishing,

To catch and release was what we were wishing,

A few large-mouthed bass were readily caught by his uncle and his Dad,

But he wanted to fish too with the small push-button rod that he had,

Uncle Thomas attached a dough ball to his hook and gently cast his line,

He sat quietly on the planked dock near the bank in the May sunshine,

When all of a sudden, Thomas yelled from the grass:

“Charlie, your bobber is under! Reel!... Reel Fast!”

Without hesitation, like a fisherman pro,

Charles had a nice-sized bluegill steadily in tow,

While Thomas was running from the bank, his Dad came running down the dock,

I just stood there and witnessed it all, in shock,

Everyone was excited for the brave little guy,

Who had caught his fish by himself- on the very first try,

He couldn’t have made his uncle any prouder,

And their screams and adulation couldn’t have been any louder!

I won’t soon forget that incredible day,

When my grandson did not let the big one get away!

Written:   Tammy Harvey

5/22/2020

Old-Fashioned Easter Eggs

No Plastic Eggs!

On a day that was sunny,

During an old-fashioned Easter Egg hunt in the backyard,

As a child, finding those eggs could be mighty hard,

Of course, we counted them all first to know how many we had,

Then someone was designated to hide them:  a mom or a dad,

While we seekers would all wait patiently in the front,

We wondered:  Would there be a prize at the end of the hunt?

Candy inside? Oh no, these eggs were hard-boiled and hand-dyed,

Each one was unique, and we had made them with pride,

We did them ourselves with smelly vinegar, hot water and tablets of bright,

Swirling them around with a small wire loop until they were just right,

Each teacup a different colored solution with a wax crayon for creating design,

Everyone knew which ones were theirs and I knew all of mine,

No one was allowed to look while the hider meticulously hid all the eggs,

Beware the spiderwebs, barbed-wire fences and daddy long-legs,

As the hider completed the task and yelled out “go!”,

Clumps of overgrown grass were a favorite first look, although,

The gutter downspouts were also a sure spot,

And the swing set had multiple places to hide quite a lot,

When all of the obvious places quickly were picked over,

Then came the hard ones, not just buried in clover,

These were tricky to find; hidden at unassuming places,

That caused the sudden halt to the frenzied foot races,

Standing still and surveying the yard with wide eyes,

It was a challenge to find: eggs were completely disguised,

The “golden egg” winner received a hollow chocolate bunny,

But it was mostly for bragging rights, on a day that was sunny!

Tammy Harvey

 3/8/2020

1934 Plymouth

Some Things are Meant to Be

He was like a gentle giant, the kind man at the local landfill, you see,

He was ready and willing to help whomever was hauling debris,

It was me, who needed his help that particular day,

My truck bed was overflowing with junk I was hauling away,

Well, an occasional treasure had slipped into the heap,

Mistakenly, a set of vintage chrome hubcaps were buried down deep,

He pulled one out and softly inquired,

“What you going to do with this?”, seeming inspired,

I said: “Those are old ones, what should I do?

“For a 1934 Plymouth.  I have one”, he shared, as he picked out number two,

There appeared a third, then the fourth one emerged,

 “Do you want them?” I asked, as my curiosity surged,

A full set of four to fit his vintage Plymouth car,

There was no better home for them; the coincidence was bazaar,

Chance? Fate?  Call it what you will,

I’ll always remember how it gave me a thrill,

To witness him shining one with the sleeve of his shirt,

Gently polishing off the small specks of dirt,

He held it up like he was looking in a mirror,

I knew it was the right decision; the gift was made dearer,

A set of hubcaps had made a long journey from out west,

To find the vehicle they would ultimately fit the best,

I’d call it destiny; yes, that’s the word I would choose,

When you find something someone else can use!

Some things you know are just meant to be,

As I drove away, this occurred to me.

Tammy Harvey

Written:  2/19/2020

Memory Lane

I'll admit it.  I'm either hopelessly sentimental or a crazy pack-rat!

I had never thrown a greeting card away in the past 30+ years.  During this time of isolation (March 2020) with the Pandemic raging, I took on the task of sorting through a large plastic bin of old greeting cards.  There were Birthday cards, Anniversary cards, Christmas, Valentine's Day, Thanksgiving, Graduation, and even Halloween cards!

These cards weren't just what I personally had received, but a collection of what our entire household had received during the 1990-2000's. It took me 2-3 days of time to get through them all. 

It was both a happy and solemn time to reminisce all those years through the cards.  I came across many homemade cards and correspondence.  There were also several poems I found that we  had written to each other on our Birthdays.  This is one posted below I wrote and gave to Jerry on his 58th Birthday...not so long ago.  I  will post a few more later on that were written by me and/or Jerry to our boys on their Birthdays...stay tuned.

Happy 58!

You were 26 on April 26^th, and that was in 1984,

In '85, you chose your bride; oh, but there is more,

Your first son was born in '88,

Things were really going great,

In three more years, your family grew by one,

You had yourself another son,

The very next year you moved up North,

IBM promoted you and so forth,

In '94, how could it be?

There came along son number three,

Years and years have passed since then,

The boys have now turned into men,

Retirement 2013 came so fast,

A 33-year career now in the past,

To drive a truck was in the plan,

An 18-wheeler, not just a van,

Federal Express fulfilled that dream,

“I’m a professional driver now’, you beam!

But today you are turning 58,

The year you were born- what a date!

May the dreams you dream continue to come true,

And always remember:  We love you!!!

Tammy Harvey

Written:  4/26/2016