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Robert Holland, “Time, Values and Ice Cream”

Born before the baby boom
        as war drums raged cross distant waters – way
        beyond my family’s lore since our 1600’s coming to this far off land
        called
        America

T’was a simple time as I grew tall.
        Shucks! Uncle Sam really wanted you (so the posted said) – pride
        in work, parades and proms, company picnics ‘tween eve’ns spent
        with “suspense”, “the Shadow” and everybody’s “Our Miss Brooks”.
        Good ole days in the summertime, indeed!… In
        America

Yet, some nostalgia stayed ‘yond one’s grasp,
        like Sullivans,
        the ice cream place on Main – swivel stools, cozy booths, and sweet,
        sweet smells with no sitting place for all of some of us.
        Could only dream such humble pleasure. Sometimes, dear ‘Merica,
        of thee
        I simply
        hum.

Much, so much has changed in twenty springs. Sputnik
        no longer beeps so loud;
        Bay of Pigs, Vietnam and contentions in Chicago
        come ‘n gone…
        All that noise almost drowning out “One small step for a man…”
        and “Willie, time to say good-bye to baseball.”
        Confusing place, this melodious mix,
        called
        America.

Now I sit by eyeing distant twilight,
        Engineer and MBA,
        smiling wide on M.L.K.’s day,
        CEO of Cherry Garcia and Peace Pop’s fountain
        having not forgotten the forbidden seats of Sullivans’,
        with miles to go before we sleep…
        and time
        left yet
        to get there.
        Only in America!