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Ramblings by Rose Mary

Please refer to the Ramblings by Rose Mary main page for columns published in other issues.
Rose Mary can be contacted via e-mail at rwclarke@mibor.net.

 

 

 

 Tomorrow Never Knows It Will Never Arrive

I could list many New Year's Eve resolutions that would improve my health, looks or personality. Why bother? My life is papered with good intentions. Have I lost weight? No. Have I faithfully dusted the house very week? What do you think? Have I taken a walk every day? Of course not. Have I been a nicer, kinder, gentler, wiser person during the past year? If so, no one has mentioned it to me.

"Don't put off till tomorrow what you can do today," my parents used to say sententiously. My tomorrows are booked from here to eternity! Sloth is a deadly sin, but perhaps procrastination is worse.

One of my nieces sent me this charming poem written by my nephew, David Gard, who has inherited the poetry-writing talent of my grandfather, William McKinney Gard, who was the minister of the Knightstown Christian Church at the turn of the 20th Century.

"PROCRASTINATION"

One day when I've time

I'll tell you the tale

Of the creature known as

A round-to-it

Round-to-its are needed

By all that I know

So they can get up

And go do it

Whatever the task is

You need a round-to it

So you can get up

And go do it.

Without a round-to-it

I'd sit in my chair

And ponder and plan

But never get up and go do it.

Too often I hear

I can't do it today,

But I'll get a round-to-it tomorrow

Round-to-its are flighty

And wispy and misty

And live some place in the air

They're quite elusive

And extremely rare,

But whatever is needed

We each need one to do it

One day last week

I sent Jared out

To find us a few

Round-to-its

He came back quite late

With his hands in the air

Saying "There are no round-to-its round here

"I searched all the shelves

And I searched in the back

I even went out

And checked the trees and the grass

There are no Round-to-its round here!"

Somehow or other

We got through our day

And never got a round-to-it.

One day if I'm lucky

And sneaky and stealthy

I'll track down and capture

A young breeding pair.

I'll take them home

And treat them with care

Then I'll have

Round-to-its to share.

But until then

The best I can say is

I'll get a round-to-it tomorrow.

Someday or another

I should write this verse down

I may get a round-to-it tomorrow.

I guess this last stanza

Could be omitted

I finally sat down and did it.

One of my deepest pleasures is when disparate events of my life come together in a very pleasing way. David's poem provoked thoughts of Dr. Charles Ballard, then minister at the Irvington Methodist Church who preached meaningful and thought-provoking sermons. One Sunday, he passed out wooden disks. "These are round-to-its," he said. Then he preached about procrastination.

I don't know what happened to the round-to-its that Bill and I carried home that day. We're both "savers," so they're probably around here somewhere in a desk drawer, mug full of pens or one of those random places where we poke things.

I called Dr. Ballard. "Dr. Ballard, do you remember the time that you passed out round-to-its in church?" "Yes, but that sermon is long gone, and I don't remember its content." "Do you have any?" "I think so." "May I have one?"

I called Dr. Ballard

Then went to his house

To get a round-to-it.

Perhaps this reminder

Will at last make me a finder

Of the time

To finally get up and go do it!

 

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