Letter to the Editor
I was shocked to discover that I didn’t have my card. In fact, I had no cards, no cash, no way to pay, and no way to cancel my order, as my car was blocked in on both ends. I was mortified. When I arrived at the pick-up window, I immediately tried to explain my dilemma, while simultaneously apologizing. The attendant was very nice and reassured me that things could be worked out. He sought a manager and when she arrived she then apologized to ME for how long I had waited.
I repeated my story, but she said not to worry about it, under the circumstances dinner was on the house. I offered to bring the money the next day, but she said just to enjoy my meal. Taco Bell may be a fast food chain restaurant, but that night they showed more class than the fanciest restaurant in town. And they made me a customer for life.
Vida Rose, Town of Geneva resident
Somebody who did not leave a name sent in a poem written by a woman known as Jean Chalmers. She wrote a poem in 1922. She’s gone now and there’s only one copy we know of. It’s being published here in this edition of the Geneva Shore Report.
Jean Chalmers didn’t make it to fame, didn’t get known as a poet and left no mark that the Internet can track down. But did Jean Chalmers write a great poem, of the many written over the ages, about that monument? The GSR thinks she sure did. She also painted a small watercolor of the monument. That’s in this issue too.
Here’s her poem, called The Washington Monument:
A wonderful thought this mass of stone,
A wonderful sight and here alone.
With lofty peak way up in the sky,
It stands a joy to the passers-by.
It says to them, look up at me,
I’ll be your guide, I’ll set you free,
From city maps or compass small,
That’s why I grew so very tall.
I help the strangers find their way,
And here I stand by night, by day.
Thru summer heat and winter cold,
Without fear of growing old.
For those who placed me did well their work,
And my career will not be like
The paltry span of years,
Allotted to that of every man.
I’ve watched your children’s children grow.
I’ve fed their souls and they do know,
Although I seem a thing of stone,
Up in this sky, and quite alone.
I’ve watched over them,
As I’ve watched over you,
Through day and night through life’s cold storms,
I’ll watch their children’s children too.
Jean C. Chalmers 1922