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Scribbles, Snippets, and Other Doggerel

Poetry and other writing and writing about writin

Dear Old Pollywog

Terri Reinhart

Found in an envelope, in a file folder, in a box, on a shelf, with lots of other boxes of file folders and papers. This was obviously written before commas were invented. The writer is my great aunt Margaret and she is scripting her epistle to her brother, George Bradford. I hope to have more about George here in the future. This is a start. I love this! It's so 1920's. 

November 7, 1922
Tuesday Morning

Dear old Pollywog;
                                I will now try to script you an epistle. Just finishing a dress for Paul and my future offspring?? so guess I will have a change of occupation. Gee I nearly go wild when I sew too long of course I would not have far to go but you need not tell me of it.
     Before I forget it Leota and I want Sara and Mary Walden to come up about a week from this Friday. Now George could you come up then and help entertain them. If you had planned to go home say so. If you can not come here a week from this Friday we can put off having the girls until you come. Let us know as soon as possible so we can plan.
     Paul and I want to go home this week if possible. Sunday Leota, Paul and I went to church. Then we all drove to Akron. Of all the cussed and damnable luck we have Paul and I had to have a puncture. Well the kids were ahead of us and of course drove right on. We got out and got to work. None of the tubes would fit so we sat there in despair hoping and praying the kids would soon discover us and as luck would have it they soon came.
     Sat, Evening Paul took me down town and we saw THE OLD HOMESTEAD featuring Theodore Roberts and Harrison Ford. It was fine. Well Old top to a tomato can i guess I will go and feed my face.
Well, I'm done and feel better.
           Write when you can Vinegar Barrel and I will try to do better.
                 All the love you could stuff in a pigs stomack.


Radonitsa for a Foster Son

Terri Reinhart


Were you sitting in the oak tree last night?
I thought I saw you, white wings and twinkling
eyes, long legs folded, yet ready for flight.
And then you were gone. You left me puzzling,

Where did my long legged heron boy go?
Did a green haired river sprite play a song
with nimble fingers on fiddle and bow
and beckon you to follow her along?

Or was it simply time for you to fly
to another world beyond what we see
wings spanning the whole of the starry sky,
now stretching to embrace eternity?

With unclipped wings, fly away without fear.
I did not hold you close to hold you here.

Terri Reinhart
For Jimmy

September 1971 to April 1995


Terri Reinhart

Successful Uncles

are measured by stories read,

snow cones slurped, and smiles.

                                                                               Our grandchildren have Uncle Patchy.

unker dave and kids.jpg

                                         Our kids have Uncle Dave.

And we had Uncle Bob. Uncle Bob didn't go to college, never married, and never had what would be considered a successful job. He spent a few years working for the Civilian Conservation Corps and he lived in California for a short time, but by the time I was young and knew him, he was living with my grandmother. He had odd jobs throughout his life, gas station attendant, liquor store clerk, and janitor at Northeastern Junior College. By the normal standards of our society, he wasn't very successful. To his nieces and nephews, however, he was the favorite Uncle and could do anything. Both my brother, Uncle Dave, and our son, Uncle Patchy, have successes in many aspects of their lives, none of which matters to their nieces and nephews. Their uncles make them smile and laugh. 


Terri Reinhart

Me and my cousin, Karen, holding kittens. Duke is in the back, sitting on the porch. This is the photo that belongs with the story of my aunt Maribelle. Click on the photo if you'd like to read it again.