Oh The Things We Save

Once again, I’m packing. I thought when we moved to Colorado that would be my final time to pack. But, alas, Hubby is not enamored with the place I called home during my childhood and teen years.

Prior to the start of packing, I made some hard decisions. No more moving of things we don’t use and no more taking up of space with “stuff.”

Regarding stuff, last week I found some things that I had rescued from my parent’s attic while we were getting their house ready to sell. These very precious items were from my childhood. At the time it seemed important to keep them. Now, not so much.

My big sixth grade accomplishment was to win an art contest and have my pencil drawing displayed at the Colorado Springs Fine Arts Center. Yep, you’ve got it – that was one of the priceless things kept in the attic. The title of this 12” X 18” mounted (well, semi-mounted now) treasure is, “The Llama.”

Verla Lacy  Age 11 

Grade 6Y

Palmer School 

               

Detail: Head of “The Llama”

The second treasure I rescued was a booklet of poems I made for Mother’s Day during third grade.

Cover: MOTHER’S DAY at the top, TO MOTHER amidst the flowers.

The first poem (aka cursive writing exercise) was about Mother’s Day. I am relatively certain Mrs. Hodgekinson cared more about cursive than she did our mothers. But I digress. My poem went as follows:

Mother’s Day

Mother’s Day is here

And Mothers’ so dear

So now on my tree

May blossoms I see.

When May flowers come

The huming birds hum

Mother’s Day is here

Mother’s Day so dear

                                    by

                                            Verla Ruth Lacy

This rhyming little nothing clearly indicates that I had no idea it was my mother who should be honored rather than the day.

The second page has a poem about Spring. My concrete thinking processes served me well here.

Spring

Spring, Spring, Spring is here

Joy is gay and clear

The birds are singing

And their chirps ringing.

Spring, Spring, Spring is here

A happy Spring day

The sun’s very bright

And clouds very light.

                                    by

                                             Verla Ruth Lacy

Off to do more packing today.

And throw some of these “treasures” away!

(William Wordsworth, move over. I still have that rhyming thing going.)

FYI younger generation: Gay used to mean bright and lively. (See Spring poem.)