Saturday, November 30, 2019

"ENDEARING YOUNG CHARMS...'


Rose M. Moore randrmoore@gmail.com

Fri, Nov 29, 6:13 PM (14 hours ago)
to me
I was a young girl at St. Mary's School in Painesville when I opened a school book and found the following wonderful poem:

"Believe Me If All Those Endearing Young Charms
which I gaze on so fondly today
were to change by tomorrow and flee from my arms
like fairy gifts fading away,
Thou wouldst still be adored
as this moment thou art,
let thy lovliness fade as it will,
and around the dear ruin each wish of my heart
would entwine itself verdantly still.

"It is not while beauty and youth are thine own
and thy cheek unprofaned by a tear
that the fervor and faith of a soul can be known,
to which time will but make thee more dear.
Oh the heart that has loved never truly forgets,
but as truly lives on to the close;
as the sunflower turns on her God as He sets,
the same look that she gave when He rose."
I, a reader and writer of poems even then, had found this poem in a book on a shelf in the classroom, and Sister Cornelia had found me engrossed in that poem, and she told me it was actually a song. She was the teacher who gathered us all in the church after school every Thursday, to practice our singing for the Children's Choir in the Sunday morning Mass, and she took the time to sing that song for me.
I was stunned by the poem, and even more so when I heard it sung as a song, so I memorized it and sang it quietly to myself quite often. Young as I was, I decided it was the sort of love I would want when I was grown enough to choose my partner in life. I was a romantic, but I was also a realist, and I told Sister Cornelia the concept of finding such love for a lifetime seemed  an impossible miracle. How could two people in a huge world full of all sorts of people actually cross each others' path; let alone realize that person WAS the right person."You never know," she smiled, and we never discussed it again.
IN LATE 1959, on a snow-stormy night, that miracle began to materialize for me when I met a young man named Bob Moore. We fell quickly in love and were married in 1960, in front of family, friends and newspaper colleagues at St. Mary's Church. I hadn't known him for more than a few weeks when I heard him singing that Irish love song in his fine tenor voice, and I asked how he knew it. He had learned it through his high school glee club, and he told me he liked what it stood for. 
As it turned out, we were the finest of partners, and our marriage did last a lifetime. We would sometimes laughingly describe ourselves as "two matched horses happily in harness, forging our way through the world together, raising three children, founding and running a business together... and yes, fully loving each other."
My Bob passed away in the springtime of 2017, a few months short of our 57th anniversary. Right to the end, he would smile across the room at me as if I had never reached that "dear ruin" stage of the Irish song we both loved. Rather he seemed to still see me as the bearer of those "endearing young charms," and he would say so. And I, in turn, would laugh and accuse him of looking at me with "Rose Colored Glasses."
I still miss my Bob; I will always miss him. But a lifetime of memories brightens the darkness of losing him to death. I still feel his presence; the memories stay with me; what more could I ask? It was my impossible miracle, and it would always be with me

Sunday, November 17, 2019




Yesterday's clear skies were exuberant, with a jet-trail sunset and a night sky brightly filled with stars, a high-watt moon ... and yes! I saw some shooting stars!

Why should I be surprised to see the same exuberant skies this morning? 
Happy SUNday--all day long, with rising temps!

"This is the day the Lord has made. Rejoice and be glad in it."
But let us not forget, He also makes the cloudy days. For his own reasons, always.

Tuesday, September 10, 2019

BOB & ROSE TOGETHER


(click on photo area to view full size)

SEPTEMBER SONG...
It was fine-wine September
blue-and-gold September
burnished-leaf September
when I wed my own true love.
And the air was warm and veiled
with the fine September sunshine
and the young boys flung down rosebuds
when I wed my own true love.
And I locked my arm in his arm
and we raced away together
and the sunshine turned to cloudburst
when I wed my own true love.
And we wandered 'round like gypsies
and we laughed a lot together
and we didn't think of duties
'til our pennies disappeared.
Then we turned our wheels homeward
and we settled in our farmhouse
and began our world together
me and me true love.
And the years brought joy and sorrow
and we walked through both united
and I've always loved September
when I wed my own true love.
From Rose to Bob, Sept. 10 2009,
49th anniversary

Saturday, August 31, 2019

A HALLELUIAH TO SEPTEMBER ...




SEPTEMBER MORN,,,



    SEPTEMBER! It's my favorite month! 
    In fact, that's why I chose September for my wedding day so many years ago, and then I had good reason through my years to love September even more.
    September is the year matured. September opens up my eyes and elevates my spirits. September mornings drape the countryside with other-worldly morning mists and shadows... 
    September's daytime skies are mostly brilliant. Her sunny afternoons are fragrant with the rich aromas of ripening apples, wild berries, grapes and grasses. With a changing angle of the sun, she lays a mellowness upon our fields, lawns and gardens. And her wildflowers lend a bright nobility to dusty roadsides.
     If each day in sweet September sinks a little sooner into darkness, so be it! September compensates in full with spectacular sunsets and cooler, quieter nights; and September moonlight is the most benevolent of any of the 12 moons of the year. 
     IF I'VE HAD COMPLAINT about September, it has been the threat of early frosts to kill the flowers in my gardens. But even that no longer bothers me. For it gives the elder Rose a seasonal respite from lawn and garden work. As the autumn of my human years advances, that respite is ever-more appreciated. 
     I admit, September weather sometimes lets me down. But in the ledgers of my memory, by far, September's assets far outnumber any of its imperfections.
     I love the seasons of the year for different reasons. But if God would tell me, "Choose your favorite month to be your season in the after-life," He knows which I would choose: SEPTEMBER! 
  

Wednesday, August 21, 2019

A MAN AND HIS DOG... GONE WEST...

A MAN AND HIS DOG: GONE WEST
MY DOG AND MICK





Today would have been a birthday for Bob. I took this photo some years ago near the Fairport Beach when Mick was a young pup in training. By 2017, Bob was gone from this earth, and Mick was a very large doberman who would meet his master a year later on the Rainbow Bridge. We have fun, special memories of both.

Their mischievous spirits still roam in places they loved, and Bob's spirits still speak every year in his favorite perennials.