Walnut Oatmeal Patties

I am a huge fan of Edgar Guests poetry. Have been for many many years.
One of my favorite poems and one that bites me a bit because I fall short of being the kinda folk he writes about.
Emery and I once had a man come to the house, the census man actually and he told us about his family when we asked him, and he told us about his 5 sons, all ministers, godly young men an about his daughters, sweet young christian women. We asked how he accomplished such a marvelous feat of raising all godly children. His reply was rather simple, and nothing dramatic.
It wasn't that he lived out in the boon docks, or homeschooled or dressed odd. He simply said, "my wife and I made a point to never criticize the minister after church on Sunday or ever. We simply made our comments about fellow Christians positive." We saw things we didn't always agree on but we never were critical in front of the children. We simply showed by our lives how to love your neighbor in spite of his short comings." What a wonderful way to be...a lesson for us all, and most assuredly for me.

Just Folks
We're queer folks here.

We'll talk about the weather,

The good times we have had together,

The good times near,

The roses buddin', an' the bees

Once more upon their nectar sprees;

The scarlet fever scare, an' who

Came mighty near not pullin' through,

An' who had light attacks, an' all

The things that int'rest, big or small;

But here you'll never hear of sinnin'

Or any scandal that's beginnin'.

We've got too many other labors

To scatter tales that harm our neighbors.
We're strange folks here.

We're tryin' to be cheerful,

An' keep this home from gettin' tearful.

We hold it dear

Too dear for pettiness an' meanness,

An' nasty tales of men's uncleanness.

Here you shall come to joyous smilin',

Secure from hate an' harsh revilin';

Here, where the wood fire brightly blazes,

You'll hear from us our neighbor's praises.

Here, that they'll never grow to doubt us,

We keep our friends always about us;

An' here, though storms outside may pelter

Is refuge for our friends, an' shelter.
We've one rule here,

An' that is to be pleasant.

The folks we know are always present,

Or very near.

An' though they dwell in many places,

We think we're talkin' to their faces;

An' that keeps us from only seein'

The faults in any human bein',

An' checks our tongues when they'd go trailin'

Into the mire of mortal failin'.

Flaws aren't so big when folks are near you;

You don't talk mean when they can hear you.

An' so no scandal here is started,

Because from friends we're never parted.

~Edgar Guest~