Wednesday, July 4, 2018

Stokes Elementary Education Scholarship




The Stokes Elementary Education Scholarship was established by Dick Stokes to memorialize his wife Margaret's love of teaching (Margaret Stokes passed away on April 20, 2016). This scholarship will provide resources for future teachers. Margaret's passion for teaching will be remembered by hundreds of her students, and her legacy will live on through this scholarship (For more information contact the Mt. Pleasant Area Community Foundation).

2018 Recepient
Joy Kriss (Mt. Pleasant High School)

2017 Recepient
 Kiara Briggs (Mt. Pleasant High School)




Note: This post will be updated with names of future recipients.

Sunday, June 3, 2018

Night Duty

When day has spent her justly time
And night has come at last
I am weary and footsore
And think my duties past.

Then on my pillow, soft and cool
My head I long to lay
So I make plans, as shoes slip off
To swiftly hit the hay.  

Yet ere I reach my haven sweet
To get much needed rest,
A loud cry, "Drink Mom," in my ears
   puts my nerves to a test.

I totter in with glass in hand
And stumble o'er the toys
That should have been in proper place
Yet boys will e're be boys.

As I dispose of each tiny car
or block, until the dawn,
I can't help think, with heavy heart--
How I'll miss our boys when they're gone.

By Treva E. Stokes (1912-1980)


To Marie Haynes

Could I, with this pen, convey to you, dear Marie,
Not of my liking, but my love- no less.
Of what your warm friendship's come to mean to me.
And that it's brought me a genuine happiness?
Would that I could but find the words, dear one,
To tell how you're endeared within my heart.
Tho I have other friends, it's really true
That you are something special, set apart.
Oft times the skys seem, oh so grey,
And I feel so lonely, sad, and blue-
That is when I need most of all, dear friend,
An understanding soul like you.
So I will not wait until the curtain falls, dear one
For either you or me.
But, I must need write now these hurried lines
Of my love for you, for you to see.

By Treva E. Stokes (1912-1980)

4th of July Parade

We come early to get just the right place
And we wait as people file in around our space.
All the time praying the rain will not come,
Because Dad left the umbrella at home.

Miniature American flags were given away,
But the little boy didn't have anything to say,
He just took the flag and waved it around,
As he took in the new sights and sounds.

There will be many more parades for a boy,
But may the parades of his life be full of joy,
And as a child marches on to become a man,
May his steps all fit with God's perfect plan.

By Alan T. Stokes   
July 4, 2007

This poem was written after Jonathan Stokes went to his first parade. The parade was held in Lansing at the Capital of the State of Michigan.

Monday, April 30, 2018

Of Preachers and Preaching

Our preacher is a goodly man,
Real righteous, kind and true.
Yet he can smile and laugh and joke
'Long with the best of you.

Yet long with that jokin' man
Some phrases often spoken,
"Believe in the Lord and you'll be saved-"
And believe me he's not jokin'.

"Lay your all on the altar, friend,
Confess all and pray thru."
He speaks thus not to just one friend
But, to the lot of you.

Sometimes the sermon sets with one
And then again another.
Who knows when sin is easily hidden?
Sometimes one, sometimes 'tother

Yet gently, kindly, he does preach.
If the shoe fits, then wear it.
Don't be ashamed to confess your sin,
Jesus will help you bear it.

By Treva E. Stokes (1912-1980)

Senseless in San Diego

Where does the blame rest?
With those who poked fun?
With those who heard the jest?
With those who owned the gun?

Everyone wants to know why
Life at school is so bitter cruel.
To early the young say goodbye,
To classmates left in a bloody pool. 

With seasonal shootings to recall,
Softer we dare say, "Never again."
Harder it is for the tears to fall.
Shorter is our attention to the pain.

We find ourselves in a perfect storm,
Where unresolved anger and guns
Can so unexpectedly transform
The power of the unrestrained ones.

Working for a superior gun control law,
Wanting all our youth to know real love,
Like Titanic our dreams have a key flaw.
Within one must live a trust in God above.
By Alan T. Stokes  March 7, 2001

Note: This poem is dedicated to Randy Gordon and Bryan Zucker who died on March 5, 2001 after being shot by a classmate (See Scars of the Santana High School Shooting - 10 Years Later, San Diego Union-Tribune, March 4, 2011).

Thursday, April 26, 2018

Gmail Upgrades

I'm a happy owner of a Gmail account. I first signed up for it in 2010, because I realized that I didn't want to change my email address anytime I changed internet service providers. I have tried other web-based email over the years and keep one as a backup, but nothing changes my first email love for Gmail.

Gmail has announced a major upgrade to their product this week. Some of the features include:

  • Allowing users the option to designate an expiration date on emails at which they will self-destruct and disappear from the receivers account. 
  • Giving clearer notification on suspicious emails to improve security.
  • Using a nudging technique to remind people when they haven't responded to emails.
  • Adding a smart-reply function to it's web-based email.
  • Giveing high priority notifications.
See Edward C. Baig, USA Today, April 25, 2018 for more information on exciting new features available to anyone with a Gmail address.

Gmail is a Google product. These improvements will make their free email even better.


Saturday, April 21, 2018

Working For Him

If you have gained one friend today
By being a "friend in need,"
If you've helped the traveler on his way
By kind look, word or deed,
If you've brought a smile to someone's face
And did his burdens share,
If you have fed the homeless waif
And taught him-someone cares,
If you have done any of these
God's working in your heart
And helping you to share with your fellowmen
The love He willingly imparts.
So keep walking ever in the light
Down the pathways when He'd have you trod
And before the dawning of another day
Try bringing a soul to God!
By Treva E. Stokes (1912-1980)

Closing the Camp Gate

Many nights my body is tired,
And I wish my camp gate was wired.

The often cold and lonely walk that lies ahead of me,
Is something few others will ever praise or see.

But it's a journey I will loyally make,
For security at the camp on Silver Lake. 

My dog will be in a very happy state,
When he walks with me to the gate.

I just hope B.J. is a good and clean dog,
And doesn't go in the pond after the frog.

As I'm on my journey I never know what I'll find,
And simple lights left on drive me out of my mind,

When it's late at night and I want to be in bed,
But I'm sidetracked from my walk to the gate instead.

Sometimes after I finish closing the camp gate,
Someone will call me saying they've arrived late.

Then I retrace my steps and open the gate for the guest,
And accept the fact that tonight I'll lose some rest.

There are many times I wish we didn't need to lock the gate,
But I know that there are people in the world who rob and hate.

So I thank God that my two feet are those of a healthy man,
For I do this for my family, my dog, and the entire camp clan.  

By Alan T. Stokes  August 20, 2000

At Silver Lake Camp there was a 1/4 mile walk to the gate which was manually closed every night by the camp director at approximately 11:00pm CST. This is a task that Alan instituted in 1998 to improve camp security after he became camp director.

The Song of a Poet

Death makes poets rife,
But death gives the poet life. 

The loves of youth make each one a poet,
But the children’s heritage inspires the poet.  

Teachers expect all their students to write,
But from within a true poet the words must ignite.  

From the hidden tree the robins cry,
“Record my purposeful song before I die.”

From the quiet cemetery the stones contrive,
“Remember our song while you strive.”

Life makes people regret their words,
But life gives flight to the poet’s words.
  
Fame beckons people to guard their words,
But anonymity lets a poet find the words.  

From the burning hearth the embers speak of,
“Sharing the best song with those you love.”

Health encourages a person to ignore death,
But pain gives a voice to the poet’s breath.

In a hectic hospital the air mimes,
“You are not alone in these times.”  

When the tide arrives at sunset,
Will there be peace or regret?

How can one look at silver water,
And not smile with a mother’s daughter?

Sin makes the heart miss the free,
But forgiveness helps the poet see.  

The sunrise calls with a new days notch,
“Put on your Father’s gold watch.”

It is not losing what is in the hand,
But forgetting what is in the sand,

That is each generation’s commotion
Of looking below the deep ocean.  

Death makes poets dearth,
But death gives the poet birth.    

By Alan T. Stokes  April 11, 2004


This poem is dedicated to Mrs. Pat Seiter, my favorite teacher at Mt. Pleasant High School, who taught English and Literature with the passion of the sea.

Friday, April 20, 2018

Letter to Mom (2 Years in Heaven)


Dear Mom,

A lot has happened since you left us two years ago. I'll try to bring you up to speed.

Snow and ice storms are happening in April. Two of my former teachers (Hudson Keenan and Ted McIntyre) actually kept a log of all snow days called for Mount Pleasant Public Schools since 1960, and we have never had school cancelled due to snow or ice as late as April 17.

They closed the Kmart in Mount Pleasant that we use to go to all the time. Remember we would eat in their cafeteria in between shopping. They are closing department stores and bookstores at a fast pace, and I think the change of finding a place we use to take him to all of a sudden shuttered is quite hard on Jonathan. He doesn't quite get any enjoyment out of shopping online yet. We have found Baker Book House in Grand Rapids that may be positioned to keep standing for years to come and we will visit there tomorrow. 

Donald Trump has been President now for 15 months. Contrary to the gloom and doom predictions of some the world hasn't ended. Life is much the same for the average folks like us. Old people like Billy Graham, Barbara Bush, and Uncle Tom are still dying. Young people are still getting autism without us knowing the cause and youth are still taken away to early from gun violence. There are still wars, abortions, suffering and injustices in every corner of the world. Those of us who have faith can hold on to the hope that God will bring peace someday.

I'm still seeking to promote the positive of politics as unusual and autism heroes through blogging, although the time available for me to write is increasingly less these past few years. The older I get the more I believe we all have a darker side and a lighter side available to us each day, and we need God's grace to help to walk in the light. 

I remember all the times when we would watch television together. Hearing the Rondeau theme of Masterpiece Theater still reminds me of the time we would spend watching shows in the evening.


A new show out there called Timeless is about time travel and watching it makes me long to be able to go back to days of yesteryear when we could be together again.

I'm taking Jonathan on a trip around Michigan to visit every YMCA in the state. When we visited the Jackson YMCA, I brought Jonathan by the Woodland Cemetery in Jackson and a local couple on their regular walk through the cemetery helped us find the graves for your parents and maternal grandparents, since I knew the plot was in section 31. Tell Grandma and Grandpa hello for me. I captured this candid photo of Jonathan kneeling at their graves.



Your family is all doing well, but we miss you often and no more than on this day. Next month your three boys will be together at the Mount Pleasant Community Foundation dinner as they give out your scholarship to a student aspiring to be a teacher like you. Your love for teaching lives on through that.

When the times are tough the memories of you bring a smile. I will remember you with smiles, because I know that is the way you will always remember us.

I like to say that, "Nothing is as good as it seems or as bad as it seems." Except that doesn't hold true regarding where you are today. I'm sure things are beyond what we could have imagined up there. As 1 Corinthians 2:9 says, "But as it is written:

Eye has not seen, nor ear heard,
Nor have entered into the heart of man
The things which God has prepared for those who love him.


Love,

Your son always.


Thursday, March 1, 2018

Rhonda Dragomir's Healing from Crohn's Disease

My wife's cousin, Rhonda Dragomir, received miraculous healing from Crohn's Disease. An article appeared in the Jessamine Journal on March 1, 2018 about this miracle. We rejoice in what God has done in her life and hope it will be an inspiration to others who suffer.

Link: https://www.jessaminejournal.com/2018/03/01/incurable-disease-to-miraculous-healing/


More Information on Rhonda Dragomir

Facebook Page: To connect with Rhonda Dragomir (Author, Speaker) you can follow her Facebook Page.

Other Blog Posts: Poetry by Rhonda Dragomir has been previously featured on this blog. See all posts on this blog about Rhonda Dragomir by searching with the label Rhonda Dragomir.

Thursday, February 1, 2018

Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow

What would it be like for our tomorrows if every day we did something that our future self would thank us for. This might be something we will be grateful for at the end of this day, week, month, or year. Or it might be something we will be pleased we did 30 or 40 years from now. It could be business decisions like buying life insurance, health decisions like eating less processed sugar, or even acts of kindness toward others that we can smile about in reflection in our future lives.