Thursday, April 30, 2009


He hired many of us.
A quiet man,
so quiet that when my time came
I had to ask him to repeat that I was in.

The stories are legends,
slow to move, speak or act
until angered or provoked,
at which point,
the results were stunning.
Terry cold cocked in a fight,
badly outnumbered, lying stunned,
seeing long legs wading in
huge fists cocked and pumping,
plowing the way to rescue.
The burglar who spit and ran
and evoked a roared, “He’s mine!”
and indeed he was...

Son of Ole and Gurina
from Flekkefjord, Norway.
They rest in the Saxon Cemetery
and in late 1994,
their only son rejoined them.

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