Wouldn’t it be fun to know
What they’ll whisper when I go?
Will I be a “dandy chap”, or will they say “that
so and so”?
I assume they’ll send bouquets,
Or a card with pretty phrase–
Things they say, though, in their hearts is the illuminating phase.
Will I be remembered for
Being such a fussy bore,
Or a pessimist, whose troubles grow where nothing
grew before?
Will my friends recall the times
I have ridiculed, in rhymes,
All their faults and pennypinching? (I myself was
pinching dimes)
Will my daughter always think
Of the way I raised a stink
When she hammered on my study door, or muddied up the sink?
Will my bruised and bullied wife
Add a chapter full of strife
To the sad indeed cross-section of the mess I call
my life?
Gentle reader, lass or lad,
You have wondered (and I’m glad):
“Wouldn’t his good points, remembered, help to balance off the ‘bad?”
My bereaved reply, “They should,
Or let’s make that read ‘They would’–
If in all our taking Ray apart we’d found ONE POINT
of GOOD!”
All 10-16-44, a.m.,
while carrying the mail….
by Ray Romine Monday, October 16, 1944
