h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

One last November journal entry about my Mother's adventures.

She always enjoyed playing with words and had a huge creative streak. Combining these two traits produced a lot of poetry over the years. Her verses weren't really to my taste, too sentimental and faith tinged for my preference, but they were heartfelt and thoughtful and many of her friends and acquaintances did appreciate them. Many of them were published in the local paper and she kept a scrapbook of those. She once wrote a poem for my father to commemorate the knocking down of a bridge that used to run across my grandfather's land and had major nostalgic significance for him. She recited it to him while he listened closely until eventually he said "that's very good dear but it's not our bridge they're demolishing". Nice thought though. My sister and I were merciless in our teasing of her about poems we thought silly or trivial. I'm somewhat shamefaced at the memories although we will still giggle at the mention of 'The Fledgling' or 'Nature's Symphony'. Aren't children cruel?

I much preferred her attempts at humorous odes. Such as the one she wrote to ease a friend's fear of flying before their first holiday flight, or the one she wrote about the trials and tribulations of a driving instructor based on her own experiences as a learner driver. These were the ones that led to her radio adventure when she sent one off to a local radio station and they rang her back to ask if there were any more where that came from. She spent a day at the radio station recording her funny poems and they were broadcast one a day for a while. I still remember tuning in to the radio each day and hearing the presenter introduce her as the 'oder of the week'. Still makes me gigglemremembering her indignation as he said it and how often she told that story afterwards.

A few years ago, we decided to collect all her poems together (even the ones we hated) and get them bound nicely into a book for her purely for her own enjoyment and pleasure at the sight of her work in print. When she moved into residential care, we made sure she had the book and that the staff saw it so they'd know her better as a person and not just another confused dementia patient. She may not be able to write them any more but she still enjoys hearing her verses, whether or not she recognises the words as her own.

that's a lovely thought and a nice way to remember someone

That's some heritage!