To Emma Engle
(1907-    )
by Sondra Ball
I saw relatives and neighbors march to the war
"to the sound of the fife and the beat of the drum."
I was only seven, maybe a little more,
when "The War to End All Wars" was begun.
We lived in this house that I live in now.
There was a barn in the back for the horse and cow.
We rode to church on Sundays on the wagon seat
under the summer's sun, through the winter's sleet.
I attended school with some other small kids
in the house of a woman on another street.
I am old now, but I'm glad I lived as I did.
I studied library science over in Bryn Mawr.
By the time I was through, the Depression had come.
There were no jobs anywhere: not in schools or stores.
So I joined with some others who were also young,
and we sailed off to France, to give aid, somehow,
in the hospitals there, or with tools and ploughs.
I worked in a birthing unit, tucking fresh sheets
around new mothers; saying, in French, "Oh, how sweet!"
to the parents of every new born kid.
I found about ten phrases that meant, "Oh, how sweet!"
I am old now, but I'm glad I lived as I did.
I came back from France before the Second World War
had started, although Hitler's youth marched to his drums;
and the people in France were nervous.  But the roar
of conquest and concentration camps had not come,
and Hitler's outrageous, but well publicized, vow
of the Third Reich seemed impossible somehow.
I found work in a high school library, no mean feat
in the middle thirties.  I earned enough to eat
and pay my rent.  I loved both the books and the kids.
I lived for many years in the same house on the same street.
I am old now, but I'm glad I lived as I did.
I never did marry.  I cannot say for sure
if I chose that course freely; or if it was done
to me by fate.  There was a young man I adored,
but after my brother jumped off the tower, I turned
away from his companionship.  It seemed, somehow,
too hard to keep on loving, at least for a while.
By the time I recovered, he was really sweet
on another young woman.  I never did meet
anyone else.  So I gave my love to the kids.
I still don't know if that choice brought joy or defeat.
I am old now, but I'm glad I lived as I did.
It was toward the end of the Vietnam War
that my life took a common and expected turn.
I retired.  And I came back to end my life here
in the same house where I had lived when I was young.
As you can see, I am comfortable now,
although there is no barn, and I don't have a cow.
This town had no library.  I gave me a treat.
I opened a library right here on my street;
as a matter of fact, on my first floor.  The kids
come for story hour.  At my age, they are all sweet.
I am old now, but I'm glad I lived as I did.
You know, I still drive and walk.  I still write and speak.
All in all, I have found life to be very sweet.
I have been blessed with friends.  I have loved scores of kids.
I have a library of books under my feet.
I am old now, but I'm glad I lived as I did.
             copyright 1997 sondra ball
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 þ SLMR 2.1a þ TP> There's a piece of everyone in their poems.
--- Opus-CBCS 1.7x via O_QWKer 1.7 
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