Sunday, February 14, 2016

The Final Stanzas

The following was posted on Facebook by my cousin, Sondra. So like our father to entrust his final poem to the family historian. He knew she'd keep it safe and share at the right time. Thank you, Sondi:

"Uncle Karl sent me a rough draft of a poem that he wrote Oct. 20, 2014. He told me not to share it and just wanted my opinion. He told me no one else had seen it, so I am going to go ahead and put the poem on here, since he is no longer with us. He was the one who wrote poems about the others who had gone before him, so I thought he would not mind if I shared it now."

Uncle Karl’s poem (Oct 20, 2014)

When I die, don’t put me in the ground.
Spread my ashes so I can move around.

Sprinkle my ashes far and wide.
Over the mountains and ocean side.

Rivers and valleys, a golf course or two,
I golfed a lot, but I wasn’t through.

Ocotillo Dunes is a favorite spot.
I’ll be with my lover, I miss her a lot.

Her ashes are there waiting for me,
Together again, though, no one can see.

Enjoying the sun and windy weather,
Out there flying and dancing together.

Sprinkle my ashes near family and friends,
Where I want to be when my life ends.

Monday, November 23, 2015

Happy Birthday, G'pa, from Lisa Anne

written by grand-daughter Lisa

I know you are sick in bed,
so here is a birthday rhyme instead.
My Grandpa is the bravest man,
He took on a 4 wheeler in the sand.
You may not think that sounds like much,
But his ribs and muscles might hurt a touch.
At 92, my Grandpa is spry,
So really, you should worry 'bout the other "guy".

November 23, 2015

Thursday, August 13, 2015

Donating blood

This morning I sent Dad an email asking how he and Mom began donating blood. Here's his reply:

That's kind of a tough question.

Kind of a patriotic thing to do,
help somebody and you don't care who.
Not much effort and mostly painless too.
You got cookies and juice when you were through.

It just got to be a habit after a year or two.
Mom was proud of her record and I was too.
I hadn't had a virus that ninety percent  do,,
so my blood was saved for babies that arrived Before they were due.
~KWJ August 2015

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Senior Musings

As I lay here a yawning
A bright new day is dawning,
I really should ge up and greet the day,
But I am fairly certain
If someone would draw the curtain
I could greet the morn right where I lay.

Norma Hueth

Norma Hueth

Although she's now past eighty
She's still a foxy lady,
Walks with a light and graceful air.
Time has dealt her well.
Just look and you can tell.
She still maintains the color of her hair.

She's as cute as any bug,
She has warmth in her hug.
She's a ray of sunshine in your life.
I know this doesn't cover,
Just show her that you love her,
Bet Lloyd is glad he chose her for his wife.

Monday, January 17, 2011


by Karl Jansen 01/2011

Martha and I go back to a time long ago.
How far back my memory will take me, i don't really know.
I remember I was a sickly kid,
but Martha took care of me no matter what I did.

She always had a positive outlook.
She liked a fun life, whatever it took.
In her second grade, Jack hung her in a tree.
The rope wasn't really around her neck where it seemed to be.

I don't think Mother thought that was okay,
It was probably the reason her hair turned gray.
That same year we found a squirrel trapped in a tree.
Jack said, "Pull it out!" I said, "Not me!"

Martha reached in, she was always game,
She said, "I got him!" and out he came
Along with bit fingers and a scratched-up arm.
That's the fun of living on a Kansas farm.

She weathered the trip out to Idaho
She was at the wrong age, looking back I know.
So crowded together, no private place
A girl her age needed her own space.

In Idaho she really did shine
I was always proud she was a sister of mine.
She was voted most popular and best dancer too.
She sang in a trio, a fun thing to do.

She married a fellow, the love of her life
And settled down being a working man's wife.
He was whisked off to war. She held down the fort.
Nothing seemed to faze her, she was just that sort.

Her family grew on his return, and
She was living the life we all hope to earn.
Then tragedy struck and Bill was taken.
I can only imagine how her life was shaken

She pulled it together, lived life day to day,
A driving force, it was her way.
She married again, her life wasn't through.
Now with Harry there were fun things to do--

camping and fishing and hunting too,
card playing with friends, what else can we do?
Her family has grown, quite well I should shout--
they cover half the county and are still branching out.

They clustered around her, held her close in their heart
Making her life easier till the time they would part.
I'm sure Martha is happy to get her release.
The stress is over. She is all wrapped in peace.

Monday, July 20, 2009

Chuckie by Karen Brockway

Chuckie 07-2009

I love my little brother
though it's taken sixty years
It must have been my teasing
'bout those glasses and those ears
He's wreaked revenge upon me
it wasn't undeserved
I've always felt it was his fault
for being such a nerd
(I mean LOOK at that yearbook photo!
Case dismissed!)
He paid me back in punches
my arms were purple kissed
bear hugs that squeezed your life breath out
he'd grin, "Nice to see you, sis."
Feeling good in that new hair-do?
"What HAPPENED to your hair?"
Proud of that mosaic pot?
"You missed a spot right there."
But one day engine oil appeared
in the gas tank of my mower
Blue smoke filled my backyard like fog
and who drove all the way over?
Without complaining, I might add
but I know he felt the glory
regaling clerks at the parts store
with his hilarious sister story
And even though he'll rip this ode
with heartless literary criticism
at my poetry reading he and Lynn
showed up to sit and listen.
My brother still looks youthful
and he's mellowing with age
but hopefully he'll keep his edge--
some things should never change.
~Karen Brockway

Friday, January 9, 2009

The First Hole

Tee it up, check the height,
check the wind,do it right.
I really want a good hit for a start.

Check my grip and my stance,
don't leave anything to chance.
I know this is the easy part.

It's going straight towards the green,
thats the best I've ever seen.
Didn't know that i could golf that good.

Hit the next one fat, caused a popper
not very far, a little hopper.
Didn't go where I thought it should.

I just love these little chips,
son-of-a-gun, I got the yips
didn't go very near the cup.

Need a putt that's soft and easy,
but my stomach's getting queasy,
keep going ball, shucks, it just gave up.

Lined up the putt with practiced eye.
it looked in as it went by.
It was really close, but no cigar.

Well, two more putts and now its in.
Really seems a mortal sin,
to settle for a bogie on this little three par.

~Karl W. Jansen 1/9/09

(and one week later - an explanation)

That golf poem Mother sent to everyone
I wrote just to have a lttle fun.
I expected a sharp retort
I made a travesty of a royal sport,
I led you down the primrose path.
Read it again and do the math.
I might tell a little lie to the unwary
If to make me look good, I felt it necessary.

Monday, June 23, 2008

Thanks To The Jansens! 1978 or 79

Did the motor home going to California have a crowd?
Did the people sit in doleful silence or were they loud?
Did the motor purr at 55?
Were we happy and alive?
Was the fun we had enough to make us flip?
Then thank the California Jansens for the trip.

Was the food we had there just really super fine?
Didn't Bob say he would make the old sun shine?
Did we have some super host?
Did they treat us to the most?

Would the time go by at just too fast a clip?
Then thank the California Jansens for the trip

Did Bob and Dot make you feel they liked you there?
Did Pete and Edie make you shed your every care?
Wasn't the pool nice and warm?
We didn't come to any harm.

Didn't they keep the good times rolling without a little slip?
Then thank the California Jansens for the trip.

Was this something we would like to do again?
Would their neighbors call the cops and do us in?
Were the pool games smooth as silk?
Were the drinks as tame as milk?
Was the weekend one you're glad you didn't skip?
Then thanks to the California Jansens for the trip.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

My Dad by Karen Brockway

He slogs through muck
To hunt the geoduck
He's a golfing fool
And handy with a tool
He's always there
With a story to share
Gives my heart a tug
When he gives me a hug
He's my Dad
I'm glad