Beth's Page

1951 - 1995
I was loved once, by an angel.
This is my tribute page to my late wife Beth since she isn't here to make her own. I hope she would approve. As you can see she was beautiful on the outside. She was beautiful on the inside too. And brilliant. So brilliant it could scare you but she never ever made anyone feel "small" in any way (except if they really deserved it).
I watched an Ally McBeal (repeat) recently. The episode where the older famous (now deemed incompetent) artist paints only his dead wife. If I could paint (like my brother), I would paint Beth over and over again too.
For all of you out there, maybe alone, and wondering if you'll ever meet your special someone, Beth and I lived in different states (me in upstate NY and she in NC) and "met" through a personals ad in the Mensa magazine. So you see, it can and does happen.
Beth died suddenly of a heart attack at the very young age of 44.
She wasn't one to keep things (sayings) on her wall but she had clipped this one and had it hanging in her office. I asked that it be read at her service and include it here in case you may find it relevant to your own life and whatever time is left you.
You never know, do you.

* * * * *

"If I Had My Life To Live Over"
by Nadine Stair, age 85

I'd dare to make more mistakes next time.
I'd relax. I would limber up.
I would be sillier than I have been this trip.
I would take fewer things seriously.
I would take more chances.
I would take more trips.
I would climb more mountains and swim more rivers.
I would eat more ice cream and less beans.
I would perhaps have more actual troubles but I'd have fewer imaginary ones.
You see, I'm one of those people who live sensibly and sanely hour after hour, day after day.
Oh, I've had my moments and if I had to do it over again, I'd have more of them. In fact, I'd try to have nothing else. Just moments.
One after another, instead of living so many years ahead of each day.
I've been one of those people who never go anywhere without a thermometer, a hot water bottle, a raincoat, and a parachute.
If I had it to do again, I would travel lighter next time.
If I had my life to live over, I would start barefoot earlier in the Spring and stay that way later in the Fall.
I would go to more dances.
I would ride more merry-go-rounds.
I would pick more daisies.
--Nadine Stair--

* * * * *

This was also one of Beth's favorites.
"Desiderata"
Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly, and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs; the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is: many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore, be at peace with God, whatever you conceive him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

Author unknown. Desiderata is dated as written in 1692. It was found when the old St. Paul's Church in Baltimore, USA was torn down. It was translated from Latin into English by Max Erhmann in 1927.

"Desiderata" English Translation Copyright 1927 Max Ehrmann.

* * * * *

And one of mine....
The lovely magician has gone,
taking the magic, the Spring,
and the garden with her.
--Don Weiser--

* * * * *

"Between Here and Gone"
by Mary Chapin Carpenter

Tonight, the moon came out, it was nearly full.
Way down here on earth, I could feel it's pull.
The weight of gravity or just the lure of life,
Made me want to leave my only home tonight.
Now I'm just wonderin' how we know where we belong.
Is it in a photograph, or a dashboard poet's song?
Will I have missed my chance to right some ancient wrong,
Should I find myself between here and gone?

Now I could grab my keys, clear out in my truck,
With every cent on board bringing me their luck.
An' I could drive too fast, like a midnight sleeve,
As if there was a way to outrun the grief.
Now I'm just wonderin' how we know where we belong.
In a song that's left behind in the dream I couldn't wake from.
Could I have felt the brush of a soul that's passing on,
Somewhere in between here and gone?

Up above me,
Wayward angels,
A blur of wings and grace.
One for courage,
One for safety,
One for "just in case".

I thought a light went out, but now the candle shines.
I thought my tears wouldn't stop, then I dried my eyes.
And after all of this, the truth that holds me here,
Is that this emptiness is something not to fear.
Yeah, I'll keep wondering how we know where we belong,
After all the journeys made, and the journeys yet to come.
When I feel like giving up instead of going on,
Somewhere in between.

Yeah, I'm just wondering how we know where we belong.
Is it in the arc of the moon, leaving shadows on the lawn?
In the path of fireflies and a single bird at dawn,
Singing in between here and gone.

* * * * *

And "Precious Time"
by Van 'the man' Morrison

Precious time is slipping away
But you're only king for a day
It doesn't matter to which God you pray
Precious time is slipping away

It doesn't matter what route you take
Sooner or later the hearts going to break
No rhyme or reason, no master plan
No Nirvana, no promised land

Because, precious time is slipping away
You know you're only king for a day
It doesn't matter to which God you pray
Precious time is slipping away

Say que sera, whatever will be
But then I keep on searching for immortality
She's so beautiful but she's going to die some day
Everything in life just passes away

But, precious time is slipping away
You know she's only queen for a day
It doesn't matter to which God you pray
Precious time is slipping away

Well this world is cruel with its twists and turns
Well the fire's still in me and the passion burns
I love a medley 'til the day I die
'Til hell freezes over and the rivers run dry

Precious time is slipping away
You know she's only queen for a day
It doesn't matter to which God you pray because
Precious time is slipping away

Precious time is slipping away
You know you're only king for a day
It doesn't matter to which God you pray
Precious time is slipping away

Precious time is slipping away
You know you're only king for a day
It doesn't matter to which God you pray because
Precious time is slipping away

Email: dgw2@citcom.net