Happy Birthday to My Sister Joan

You're lucky if there have been people in your life since you were old enough to remember, people that you've ceaselessly been able to look up to and admire.  I've been lucky.  There they are ...  my sister Joan (pronounced Jo-Ann) and her husband John on their wedding day, August 3, 1946.  Sorry for the blurry image; I photographed a photograph through glass and couldn't get it to come out sharp.  And here's a poem I wrote for Joan a few years back:

Joan Back Home

From the time that I was just a kid,

right through all these years

that I've been a man full-grown,

I've known that no matter what I did

or where I might roam

I was always being loved

by my sister: Joan back home.

Nothing that I've touched

Nor anything I've seen

Nor any knowledge that I've gained

Nor any King or Queen who reigned

Has meant as much to me

as the love I've felt

from my sister: Joan back home.

Some things do not last --

feelings change, and then change some more.

Good fortune and bad fortune come and go,

and lovers, too.

But some things last,

and last, and last, and last --

such as the love of my sister: Joan back home.

I know that all our lives will end --

hers, mine, that of every woman, every man;

but I don't believe that love like Joan's will ever die --

listen for it in the wind,

watch the clouds spell it against a blue sky,

gaze at a river carrying it along,

see it reflected in a grandchild's eye,

or read it in a poem, or hear it in a song.

It's in all those places;

I swear that I've found it everywhere,

this gift of love

from my sister: Joan back home.