“I’m going to ask your mother to put this verse away,

So you can read it for yourself upon some future day.”

                                     James M. Buck (1909-1994)

These are closing lines of a poem my father wrote to me on May 17, 1944. He was a private in the U.S. Army waiting at Ft. McClellan, Alabama to be shipped to Belgium, where he eventually became a part of Patton’s Army, participated in the Battle of the Bulge, and helped with the liberation of Germany. I was 10 months old. I am glad I can still read this poem more than 80 years after he wrote it. My mother saved the letters my father wrote to us along with some pictures taken during those war years.



I knew my father wrote poetry because, in his 70’s, he began to make audiotapes of his war stories and his poetry. He was particularly proud of his poetry because he thought it was the reason he survived the war. By the time he arrived in Europe, he was 35 years old – by far the oldest PFC in his unit. Most of the guys were very young and some were illiterate. My father soon became the unit scribe, writing poems and letters to the mothers, wives, and sweethearts of his friends, and reading the return mail that the men were so hungry for and couldn’t read for themselves. He believed that the strong young guys kept the “old man” alive by bringing him food and keeping him safe. They needed his special gift. He needed their willingness to steal and barter and maybe even kill. I am forever indebted to these men whose names I do not even know.

We love a God who wants us to love each other. There is no finer way to love your families, friends and even strangers than to hear their stories, their poems, their songs. These oral exchanges become a prayer – the concrete evidence of the love you share with each other. As I read this poem my father wrote to me over 80 years ago, my eyes fill with tears and I am surrounded once more with a father’s love even though he has been dead since 1994.

Thank you for reading my story! Now it is your turn to go tell your stories. If someone comes to you with a story, listen with all the attention you can muster. When the family gathers for a holiday or a birthday, ask everyone to tell a story and you will experience a celebration overflowing with healing, forgiveness and love. Sacred moments!