Sharon Vander Meer

We limped along, you and I,
I so wanted you to succeed,
to be entertaining
and fun,
not stodgy
the written word
making smiles,
informing,
telling the tale
of a matchless place,
singular in its identity,
more than the sum of its parts.
It’s that kind of place,
full of people with quirky ideas,
ingenuity,
an earthy connection
to time and place.
You must be here
a long time
to be one of us,
unless,
of course,
you get it right away.
We’re common folk,
whether we have money in the bank,
or an empty tank,
we are who we are,
no frills,
no pompous asses,
well, maybe a few,
but we know who they are,
and we accept them –
just that way.
That’s the story
I wanted you to tell,
and we did, you and I
but –
the very big but –
you never made a dime,
and to continue,
you had to,
so, I gave you up
and regret it still.
You are part of my history
and the history of this town,
though lost to the public,
you linger in my garage,
a picture of our town
as I saw it;
as the people who wrote
articles for you saw it.
As you really are,
plain spoken
with a heart,
beautiful,
hospitable,
welcoming.
That’s the story
you told,
the story we told together.

I wrote this poem September 16, 2020. I post it here in recognition of (and in some cases in memory of), the writers and contributors who made the Hermit’s Peak Gazette a wonderful hometown paper with heart. It only lasted about three years, from 1997 to 2000.

I’m still writing but my focus is on fiction and poetry and short stories. To read more, check out this link to my book FUTURE IMPERFECT.