The Land That Made Me, Me

A friend sent a poem written about us "baby boomers" who grew up in the 50's and 60's.  It is called The Land That Made Me Me.  It reminded me of where we came from and where we are today.  I am sure my grandfather could have written such a poem about his days, too.  I am also sure that my grand children could write a similar poem when they are my age.

That middle one when asked by her Great Uncle if she is the second of her family, she insisted than no, she is third!  She considers cousin Liam as her brother!  That is about the most adorable thing I ever heard from a child.

I had my six month checkup with my dentist this morning and couldn't get away.  Old Cliff wasn't busy and wanted to talk the day away.

About the Nevada takeover and how our country has went to hell
and if our farm has turkeys so he could shoot them like ringing a bell

And how do you make it farming with all the risk and such,
I said it keeps on ticking and what I do doesn't matter much.

But we both know we make an impact sometimes for good or bad,
And when we make bad decisions, isn't it just so sad.

Unless we learn from our mistakes and share our little good,
We can be the best guy around us or noted in the neighborhood.

"If you buy one of those million dollar combines that drives itself across the field,
I want to ride beside you so I can see the yield."

I said you won't be riding with me ole Cliff for that money never came,
But you can ride beside me anyway and see the yield the same.

My generation should be happy with all the things we got,
But it seems we're never happy whether we have it all or not.

Happiness is found in the simple things, green corn fields or a calf,
Mine is found in my grandchildren, especially when they laugh.

This land is filled with blessings, just look, they're all around,
But if you cannot see them, I pray for you right now.

Ed Winkle