FAITH & LOVE

Faith alone won’t keep us warm,

Or shelter us from rain.

Through faith we see beyond the storm.

We glimpse blue skies again.

Faith doesn’t keep the storms away.

The clouds aren’t really gone.

Through faith we smile anyway.

Through faith we carry on.

Faith doesn’t promise fairness,

Or excuse how others live,

But faith can bolster empathy.

Through faith we can forgive.

Like love, faith hopes, faith can preserve.

The Book says God is love.

Through faith we’re spared what we deserve.

Through faith we rise above.

Love, like God, is infinite,

Rejoicing in the Truth,

Inherent in each one of us.

We know love from our youth.

Love dispels all questions.

Compassion trumps all doubt.

Love can’t dismiss all sorrows,

But love helps ease them out.

Some question Faith and Deity,

Denying God above,

Disdaining forces they can’t see,

But no one questions love.

SC

NEATH CALIFORNIA SKIES

Asa Steven Camp with little Meda, 

and Laura Ellen Oldfield Camp with baby Albert. 1871 

Asa Camp was a pioneer,

And a relative of mine.

My great great grandpa headed west,

Back in ’49.

The trail west was rugged,

And the wild Sierra’s high.

The golden prey illusive,

But Asa was determined he would try.

The plains were fraught with peril,

And the road west took a toll.

But at last they reached the summit

Of a steep and piney knoll.

Down below was Hangtown;

The end of a weary road,  

The mythical El Dorado,

Heart of the Mother Lode.

There Asa Camp would spend his youth.

There he’d wed a wife,

There he’d father children

Through a long, industrious life.

But first he made a second trip,

In 1854.

He knew the long, rut riddled route.

He’d made the trek before.

This time he brought the Oldfield’s west,

In this saga that I’m tellin’.

And when their daughter came of age,

He married Laura Ellen.

They raised three daughters and a son,

In Hangtown through the years.

They buried Ella on the hill,

And persevered through tears.

His hands were hard and callused,

His smile warm as toast.

He didn’t treasure company,

But he was a gracious host.

He mined the rugged south fork,

And lived on Reservoir Hill,

Panning gold, hauling freight,

And ruling home and hearth with an iron will.

There his children married.

Each lived their life with zest.

And great great grandpa loved them all,

But Asa loved the wild Sierras best.

He cherished every blessing,

Neath the California skies.

His life was spent in gratitude,

And he died with the wild Sierra’s in his eyes.

Shannon Thomas Casebeer

LITTLE FORDS & WEATHERED WOOD

Placerville, California 1920s

If I could turn the clock back,

And live my life once more,

I believe I’d take a slower pace,

Not hurry like before.

I’d spend my life in Placerville,

When the Ivy House still stood,

When the whole town smelled of doughnuts

And storefronts of weathered wood.

When school was taught with chalk on slate,

Each hour marked by a bell,

Luncheon served from paper bags,

And a pint of milk was swell!

When horse and buggy still raised dust,

And little Fords were few,

When little girls weren’t exempt from lust,

But little boys had no clue.

When belts were worn with shirts tucked in,

And Pomade clogged our comb,

When we took our best girl to the dance,

And our palms caressed as we walked our sweetheart home.

I know it’s just a silly dream.

I know it can’t come true.

I know it just sounds foolish now

To share it here with you.

But my wish for every one of us

Is that we’ll live each minute,

Treasure every hour of life,

And every loved one in it.

Hold tight to your memories

Of those days when life was good,

When Main Street smelled of doughnuts,

Little Fords and weathered wood.

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Chains required from Camino to Tahoe

The little Ford is all warmed up

& we've got doughnuts and coffee!

Grab your jacket and let's go!

Gruß, Freunde!

Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be critical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be careful. Strive to be happy.

© Max Ehrmann 1927

Salutations, chers amis!