I just realized, I think I'm older than this aircraft. OY!!
Three to Seven to a Tee
By Arley Steinhour 061411
Seven is a number for this life of mine
It seems to pop up seven almost every time
Three years old, plus days forty-nine
Pearl Harbor day, Japan put it on the line.
Day one was spent in Shock and Awe
With tears and anger close behind
Kids like me, too young to know all
Scattered to where no one could find.
All I knew that fate filled day
Was war was on, where people died
Tears, and anger, what could I say
Like finding out mom and dad had lied.
Life gained a new prospective
Even I could know that much
Peace and harmony much defective
Belts tightened quite a bunch.
The next four years my age did double
When it ended I'd learned a lot
Four years of a world in trouble
From a Hitler and Tow Joe plot.
The Army had a new Air Force
But not too many a fighting plane
What we had would stay the course
Until production made them like rain.
North of town they built a base
To teach the men to fly
Young men all over the place
Came to learn, and die.
Some officers had wife and family
And had not a home for wife
Grandpa started building lively
Cabins in back for a cozy life.
A Railroad man working Twelve/Seven
Then six hours building cabins ugly
August 1942, five shiny bits of cabin-heaven
Counting us, eleven families fitted snuggly.
There were no rental laws to stop us
Or Grandma would have been in jail
Doubled up or more, without a fuss
Harmony presided, humor didn't fail.
Saturdays were party time
Grandma played accordion and sang
BBQ or Hobo Stew suited all just fine
All dancing, some singing, with a twang.
No one mentioned war up in the sky
That seldom ever entered conversation
Only Love, and words were allowed to fly
We all knew we loved our nation.
Four years flew by, for a kid like me
I'd lived over half my life in war
And when it ended, no flyers to see
Base closed, because war had gone too far.
McCook was like a ghost town
Half the population gone away
No one seemed to show a frown
As the troops came home to stay.
All was done, we'd won both wars
VE and VJ both finally came to be
The weapon used, closed war's doors
No more, the world was now free.
I won't address what happened
With the years that followed that
World wars never more to be my friend
Just people killing battles called a cold war spat.
Today the consummation has us all in trouble
As the world makes Tribulation history
Unless God burns things up like stubble
Where only His, can then live free.