Eight Decades | Happy Birthday, G.D.
Eighty years ago today, Little Dickie B. was born,
What pride for Mr. Bassler, on that far-off joyous morn!
Two sons in succession, and their glam’rous show biz mother:
Made them a family of four, and Don, a new big brother.
The world was unsuspecting, it did not yet understand,
What would happen to this baby, born with slide rules in his hand.
Of course, we all start out as just amorphous little kids,
Too soon, we grow and all at once, life seems to hit the skids.
Two big brothers had no choice,
When suddenly came baby Joyce.
Of babyhood they were now rid,
But Dick became “The Middle Kid!”
Yet youth has not the grit, nor the endurance long to stay,
Because Father Time won’t let it, as the years fly fast away!
Birthdays come and birthdays go, the years roll on a-plenty:
You blow out lots of candles….
BOOM!!
And all at once, you’re twenty!
By then, G.D. was hitting stride, enrolled at Union College:
By night, he chased the ladies: by day soaked up some knowledge.
Soon he was a graduate, diploma fresh unfurled;
Then a husband and a father of two blue-eyed little girls.
At civil engineering, he had plenty on his plate,
The onset of a long career with good ol’ New York State.
At first they lived in Troy, New York; then Saratoga County.
Binghamton and Vestal…a residential bounty!
Finally to Colesville The Bassler family came,
Where they’ve had three different houses, but their town remained the same.
Meanwhile Dick turned thirty, causing agony and moans.
When forty came, we thought we’d have
To put him in a home.
But, turning forty did not cause a flame-out or a panic;
Fifty still was pretty cool… and only slightly manic.
At fifty-five he bid farewell to good ol’ New York State.
He’d just go home and play more golf, the very thought was great.
Three months later, he was bored:
What would he do all year?
Then Stan called up requesting help from fellow engineer.
Because a friend picked up the phone to give his pal a jingle,
Dick Bassler, Engineer, hung out his P.E. business shingle!
Computers were his special skill, as techie, he’s first rate:
The D.O.T. went digital while he worked for the State.
He assembled many-a Heathkit: electronics was his game,
So, computer skills were natural…..calculators much the same.
He and some friends were known as the computer “major domos,”
Got bonuses and kudos from Guv’nor Mario Cuomo.
Soon calls were coming thick and fast from growing clientele,
The price was right, the need was great,
And D. B.’s work was swell.
Armed with his computer and the latest Auto-Cad,
Richard Bassler, Engineer, gave folks the best he had!
The jobs had some variety….too many here to list ‘em:
Mobile home pads, house plans, and a ton of septic systems.
By Sixty, he was in highest gear,
Enjoying his own freelance career.
Seventy? Known all the country round…
The engineer for three different towns!
Then eighty – as it does for a few of us –
Arrives…And just deserves a fuss!
Yes,
Years do fly by all the time,
The reason for this tribute rhyme.
But, Dick has reached this noble stage
While seeming a much younger age!
Despite each phase in life’s long trek…
A little kid, then what the heck?
We sow our wild oats by the ton,
While full of zip and, O, sooooo young!
Polly was his exhausted mother,
Ignoring herself to care for others.
And,
Just when she thought she’d never rest,
You kiddos baled on an empty nest!
You started a life and a neat career,
A couple of hours away from here.
You ended up with daughters sweet…
And four little grandkids at your feet!
You wiped their noses and dried their tears,
Helped them solve problems through the years…
And just when you thought you’d never rest,
They left YOU alone in an empty nest!
Yet,
A parent’s job’s never really done,
Some battles are lost, yet some are won.
Life’s an adventure chock-full of “maybes,”
We wonder what future awaits our babies!!!
The world still turns, The gong still sounds,
The ticking of Father Time’s clock resounds.
Human events must still unfold,
We race to keep up while growing old.
A birthday, some say, is a paltry thing,
Just one more tree with another ring…
While life, with its countless complexities
Is garnished with idiosyncrasies.
Yet even in our familiar place
Upon this world’s well-wrinkled face,
It surely inspires a loud three cheers
When one of us hangs out for eighty years!
In terms of the planet’s oldest Trees,
Eighty years isn’t even a tease!
Yet, in human terms, I would have to say,
It can’t help taking one’s breath away.
Imagine
Eighty long years ago:
The world was a different place then, you know.
Space travel was merely a myth, you see,
Plane travel was in its infancy…
Phones had cords and a party line,
And one per house was perfectly fine!
The Big Band sound was a national craze,
When Dick could measure his age in days.
Elvis had not yet shown his face,
And Disney Land was not a place.
F.D.R.’s Fire Side Chats so nice
Had already got him elected twice!
Soon Truman would step into his shoes,
As A-bombs monopolized the news !
There was no “meth,” and tobacco was king,
And rolling your own was just the thing!
Computers were simply an oddity,
Years from a major commodity.
People still shopped in stores down town:
Big malls hadn’t yet come around;
Now they’ve come and have nearly gone,
But the Internet just goes on and on!
Life was certainly simpler then;
It’s fun to just remember when
Folks made do, as they were able…
An evening was chairs around a table…
Let’s have a game and a lot of laughter:
Memories lasted for ever after!
The automobile was a wild success,
Their cars brought Americans happiness,
There were different names back then, of course,
For “Mustang” simply meant a horse!
A lot of long-lost automakers…
A favorite of Dick’s was the Studebaker.
A Radio had an annoying hum,
As for TV, there were nearly none.
We could only listen to favorite shows.
How did we stand it? Well, no one knows!
Mom stayed at home to clean and slave,
For she never heard of a microwave.
A fridge satisfied her wildest wishes,
And she was the washer of all her dishes.
Dad went to work, where he sold insurance;
Then bought the company…such endurance!
Magazines and a few good books
Relaxed the fathers and calmed the “cooks.”
People still spoke to one another,
And children had more baby brothers.
Life back then was far from hard
With games of Parcheesi, checkers, cards.
Kids played outdoors, they rode their bikes,
Swam in the summer, and went on hikes.
Was their trouble? Of course, just gobs!
The cure? More chores or part time jobs.
The world kept going, it ran and ran,
World Wars, Korea and Vietnam.
Governments used blood-drenched aggression
To cure those down-turns called “recessions.”
But, nothing and no one stays the same;
Change is always life’s middle name.
So, here in 2017, We remember all that has come between
That first birthday, so long ago,
And the crazy world that today we know.
We wallow in mega-technology, and anguish over ecology.
Climate change is far from charming;
We have gotta be “green” cuz of global warming!
Meanwhile, Dick is a Patriarch,
He’s Guided the family, he’s done his part.
Longevity’s secret? It’s hard to say:
He’s blessed with top quality DNA.
The Bible and his church give strength:
Perhaps they’ve given longer length
To a life that’s had both joys and sorrows,
Yesterday’s flown, but still bright tomorrows.
Fifty-eight years with his wonderful wife,
Who’s given him a less boring life.
The oyster’s irritant makes the pearl…
And I am his irritating girl!
I’ve kept him on the straight and narrow,
Through cars and computers and big wheel-barrows…
Through John Deere purchases hard to count,
Whatever it costs, it’s the right amount!
You can’t spend too much on a motorized buy,
When you are a genuine gadget guy.
To be fair, he uses his shiny toys…..
‘Til he loses interest, like all little boys!
He’s an engineer and a whole lot more:
Doing what nobody did before..
And the world has beaten a path to his door.
The blessings of his long life blend
In the love of family, and good friends.
The Irish favor a good shillelagh,
Like Dick regards his ukulele.
His tunes are few, but are well received…
“Bill Grogan’s Goat” must be heard to believe!
After eighty years, he’s hale and hearty,
Ready to rumble and ready to party.
Here we are in the neighborhood:
Time marches on, but life is good.
This poem was written for only you,
To give your day its rightful due.
To remind you of milestones like this week,
Whether you do or don’t choose to speak.
For, turning eighty’s a perfect time
To celebrate life with an epic rhyme.
Don’t count your candles, just blow ‘em out,
Good times, not years, are what life’s about!
May life be better as each year passes,
May you always be able to find your glasses.
May your friends
Grow older along with you,
Your descendants grow up strong and true.
Despite your age, may youth light your face;
May you bloom where you’re planted and savor your space.
For the Lord looks down on His servant true,
And pours a blessing on good ol’ you
All this, my Beloved, is for your sake…
And now…let’s have some birthday cake!
Happy Birthday
Love, Lida B…..The QOE
Written for you on July 28, 2017
XOXO
