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Would you want this on your grave marker?

RIP (if you can)
Michael A. Dolen
Lawyer, Cleveland Council member
Chosen by the Governor of Ohio,
a Methodist minister,
to make gambling more attractive to
the middle class
Actually, almost no one, rich or poor, famous or humble, puts their profession and "accomplishments" on their tombstone. Pastor John writes in this week's Cornerstone newsletter, "When I listen to families talk about their loved one at the time of death, very rarely do I hear about their great wealth, power, or their achievements; I hear about their character."

Ohio started a state lottery in 1974. Many churches fought it--probably even the Methodists, among whom I think our Governor was a pastor at one time. It will help the children, we were told. (Loud guffaws in the wings). So what has happened? It used to be the only game in town for the poor. They made running numbers illegal, so they could only bet with the state. Then all the states around us said, "Hey, that looks like easy money." Kentucky's got its horse race betting, Michigan and Indiana have lotteries, Pennsylvania has racetrack betting and casinos now. Now the state has run out of poor people to fool, so they are going to try to make it more attractive to the middle-class. Yes, that's a quote from why Dohlen was appointed.

We take the poor's money with one hand, then tax the middle-class so we give back some of it, but not enough or as much as they lost. Makes us feel so self-righteous to be able to help not only the children, but the poor (and increasingly they are each other). State lottery--it's a two-fer. But now we'll have to hit up the middle-class double--first take it through gambling, then tax them through higher costs for just about everything. Plus, we get to raise property taxes and send more money to Washington so they can send part of it back, because we never did solve that silly old education problem. Columbus' graduation rate is about 45% and Cleveland's is worse. Imagine that. It's a home grown axis of evil.

Story from the Columbus Dispatch, March 25, 2007

Poetry Thursday #11

Today's totally optional challenge is to find a word we don't know in the dictionary and write a poem using it without looking up the meaning. I think this is called the "dictionary game." I didn't choose the topic, but did use a dictionary.

Here are some e-words that can cause problems for writers. An elegy is a song of mourning or lament; a eulogy is an oration of praise; an epitaph is a phrase that appears on a grave stone; an epigraph is an engraved inscription or a quotation at the beginning of a literary work; a epithet is a disparaging word or phrase; an epilogue is the conclusion or the final chapter; an epistrophe is the repetition of a word or expression at the end of successive phrases or verses; an epode has a long verse followed by a short one; an epopee is a long poem. I checked several sources for the proper poetic form for an elegy, and the phrase "Here lies. . ." seems to be what they have in common.

I told what little I know about this baby, Alma Fay, in my Monday Memories. She was the daughter of my great grandparents born after they left Tennessee and moved to Illinois and is buried in Plain View Cemetery.

This elegy is for anyone who has lost a baby through miscarriage, abortion, adoption, or death. Maybe you have a grave to visit, maybe not. Perhaps all you have is a dim memory. But someday. . . the graves will open for the Resurrection. Reassembling dust, molecules and DNA, no matter how scattered, is no problem for the designer and creator of the universe.

Elegy for little Alma Fay, August 26, 1908 - October 3, 1908
by Norma Bruce
March 12, 2007


Here lies quietly, baby Alma Fay
with no one to remember
save one sister old and gray,
her name engraved on heart shaped stone,
among the grass and clay.

Here lies peacefully, auntie Alma Fay
with nephews, nieces, cousins,
who lived well and had their say,
a harbinger of the good life
in land so far away.

Here lies listening, precious Alma Fay,
with none left to grieve for her,
these one hundred years or pray,
but God, the Three in One, will call
on Resurrection Day.

Here rises victorious Alma Fay--
the graves are emptied at Plain View.
Praise God! she's flown away.

Poetry Thursday, elegies, Mt. Morris Illinois, gravestones