Thursday, March 3, 2011


Here is an inspiring poem that my grandmother, Honey, wrote.  Her real name was Beulah, but we called her Honey.  The oldest of the cousins thought that was her name because that's what our granddaddy called her.

When there's no breeze, row.
Bend to your oars and go.
Look up, not down
With never a frown
For the man with a smile
Wins the race worthwhile.
So, row, man, row.

I just heard a few minutes ago, that the lady who lived across the hall from my mom at the nursing home, died this morning.  Her daughter and I became very close while visiting our moms.  She had had a stroke and couldn't really move her body much, and could only speak very quietly.  But, she was so very sweet. Her children were very devoted to her.  The daughter I became close to was there every day.


  1. Julia, been away for awhile and just catching up with all the wonderful poems you've been sharing. Your grandmother really had a lovely way with her words. How lucky you are to have them now to read and reread and share. Thank you.

  2. My condolences, it's hard losing someone you know. I really enjoyed the poem. I am happy to say I am your newest follower!