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Never grow up!
My dad passed away 2 years ago, and while going through his photos at the weekend, I found an envelope I had not noticed before. In it were two documents – a letter he had written to me when he was 80, and a poem he had written when he was 8.
The letter began:
It’s time for me to write to you as I hide indoors from a depressing combination of wet weather, worrying weariness and worldly woes.
Hidden behind his perfect alliteration (and his use of 3) was a sad man, who used to be happy, walk our dogs 5 miles a day, was Captain of his sailing club and a top Scottish chess player.
The poem – original below – was written on his 8th birthday in 1930:
Eight years old to-day!
Perhaps you people wonder what on earth I’m going to say;
But I only want to tell you, that I’m eight years old today!
I want to tell you simply, how it feels to be a boy;
To be a kid in this old world so full of love and joy!
For oh! It’s all so beautiful! So wonderful to me!
The rugged rocks, the shining sands, the rolling restless sea
The willful waves that bathe the breezy in rainbow tinted spray
Are miracles, I think! Although I see them every day!
The sun that smiles so kindly, on the fields of golden grain,
The tears that fall from heaven, as the cool and gentle rain;
The lark that sings its anthem in the clear blue sky above;
All tell me of the beauty, and the truth, that “God is Love”!
Perhaps when I grow older, and am wiser too, like you,
I may know the world much better, and shall have my work to do:
I only learn my lessons now, and run about, and play!
And it’s jolly fine to think – I’m eight years old today!
As I often say to children when I speak at schools – never grow up – its way, way overrated!
In memory of my wonderful dad – with special thanks for changing that last line ‘but’ to ‘and’. (Yes! Check out the original writing).
With my love and best wishes to you all
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