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When my grandmother, Virginia Borgstrom Dittus, died, there came the task of going through and sorting her life's possessions. Amongst her things was a box with high school yearbooks and other mementos of her and grandpa's life. In the 1926 Provi, the yearbook from their high school senior year, was this poem that my grandfather had written. I first saw the poem the night of my grandmother's death and it just seemed right. They had both had a good life and they are missed very much.
TIME
There's an old dead stump by the side of the road;
It's broken and gone to decay;
Still that old dead stump was once the abode
Of a tree that was lithesome and gay.
There's a ragged stem lying crushed on the floor;
It's torn and its beauty is gone;
Yet that old stem once a flower bore,
That graced an emerald lawn.
There's an old, old man by the side of Life's way;
He's poor and bereft of each friend;
Yet that man's youth was so gloriously gay,
That he thought it could never end.
Thus time deals us all a common fate,
Whether tree, or flower, or man.
Each tick of the clock lets us know it's too late
To alter one's part in the Plan.
Elbert Dittus.
THE 1926 PROVI
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