Ode to the Class of '64
In September 2008, Charles Goodman sent me this:
Last night as I was preparing my Gideon message for this week end, I noticed an hour glass on the shelf in my office at home and having just looked at the list of our fellow classmates that have gone on, I was immediately inspired to write a poem. (I don't write poems) It is attached if you care to read it.
Thanks and have a blessed day
Ode to the Class of ‘64
Like sands through the hour glass, so are the days of our lives.
If life really began as the sands began to pour ,
It’s no doubt it was turned and started in 1964.
Young and excited, the future lay bright ahead,
Who would have thought by -Two Thousand and Eight
Ten percent or more would already be dead.
Looking back, we scattered here and there, but wait !
Jobs, marriages, careers and many a care,
Kept us unaware of our fellow classmate’s fate.
Pleasant memories of our friends, unseen for years,
Thoughts of high school days and good times spent.
First cars, first dates and Blue Hurricane football cheers.
We share a common bond, the class of ‘64, some we knew well,
others, just a little. It really doesn’t matter, the bond we have cannot be broken-an unusual camaraderie will always dwell.
Years have come and gone, yielding many hopes and fears.
We each have a story to tell, successes, failures, happy times and sad
along the road of life with many detours, we each have surely had.
Most of us have led quiet, unheralded lives as sands passed thru the glass.
No ticker-tape parades or monuments to honor our lives will be won.
Sand is flowing fast; time is running out, the day is almost done.
What really counts most now is the Race we all have run.
Yesterday we were young, today we are old, Tomorrow a memory.
While we have “Now”, consider those the years have taken away
Cherish their memory, classmates they will always stay.
Like sands through the hour glass , so are the days of our lives.
Forty-Five have emptied, if every year was a separate glass.
We walked across the stage, seeking our place, leaving behind, Our class.
Now, every song, every familier name, every photo we see, Jogs our memory and makes us proud to be ,
a part of that time, long ago, a beginning we all know as
the Class of “64
Poem for Our 50th Reunion
If Age is a teacher, then children will learn.
Time is fleeting, youth show little concern.
With age comes wisdom, so we’re told,
sad they don’t learn before growing old.
Time’s cache of treasures never last,
except in memories of the past.
The future may seem so far away,
until it arrives inevitably one day.
In time, in the mirror, they’ll look and not see,
the youth they once were- never again to be.
Maturing and learning as age gives them school,
but Ignoring the past, gives birth to a fool.
Time is like a flower, once in full bloom,
fades away quickly toward its eventual doom.
With birth we begin dying as seconds pass,
Each heartbeat counts them, down to the last.
Only God knows, when life’s clock will stop,
the time you have now is all that you’ve got.
Tomorrows uncertain; God won’t change the past,
no rose gardens promised, only love will last.
As age creeps up and makes us older,
let it make us stronger and a little bolder.
Don’t be afraid to say, “ I Love You”,
it’s the most important thing you can do.
So take time to make time for loved ones today,
you can’t take it with you ,so give it away.
Show interest in them, it’s what you should do.
One day, loved ones may be memories, sad but true.
Charles E. Goodman, Sr.