A standard man
This man we must remembered how would we have survived at the pool without his soda pops just a short walk to Mr. Johnson’s
Standard gas station always greeted by his quiet nature always seemed to be happily beaming his uniform his farm service shirt
And pants right inside the door there it set the big red coke machine setting so perfectly huge bulging with all kinds of refreshments
Especially Grapett Radar might have had Nehigh but we had grapett the man matched his manly station with easy conversation
And an easier smile his station lasted the longest after Beno and Rock Bennet’s went out and were torn down on the corner of Hickory
And Jackson and Hilyards going out of town on twenty nine east just past the Bear creek road maybe it was even his decision to tear it
Down but what a shame all that took its place was a bare spot we already lost the above ground swimming pool that was the
Unchallenged pearl of central Illinois now we have a ground level pool and some sheds to replace something that was so grand
This like Mr. Johnson he can’t be replaced nor would we want to they should name that spot his corner we can’t just keep losing
Great friends like him and Jack Jeffrey’s and others and seemingly go oh well there goes another one forty nine years that’s a lot of
Soda pop and more happy kids that was touched by this special man’s life he proved and improved hospitality over the years
With simple application to the golden rules smile a handshake service that was endearing Andy Griffith became famous for portraying
Such a man true to a fault agreeable principled a man that was a credit all those years to his community I will always recall him with
Fondness I was gone from here for thirty years but I purposely looked him up and was so happy to find him doing well the station
just a memorable mile stone in Pana’s history I know those long ago summers would have had a large hole if he hadn’t been at his
Post he will be sadly missed and never forgotten he had charm as long as a long warm summer day walk in kick back life even as a kid
Would slow and fall into gentle rhythms a cold bottle in your hand went well with soft conversation through the windows would float
The sounds of kids going full blast at the pool eventually they would stream in through the door take time making memories like so
Many of us have of this special place and this man just a gas station but so very much more an indelible mark added to your soul
While summer slipped by a marker shared by so many young and old just four walls where happy moments were made and will always
Endure thanks Mr. Johnson

Words hit you like a wave
Over and under and through your head
They swirl around you like the wind in a storm
Making you think more than you have ever thought
Giving you feelings you haven’t felt, in a long time
Phrases that make you laugh, cry, wonder
Connect with the world around you
With other people
And friends
And family
But most of all
You with yourself
You remember feeling
Sadness, joy, weakness
Pain, Stereotyped, Repressed
Just what he described, like he said
His words fill up your heart, your mind
Your soul remembers how it felt to hurt
To feel happy, to be scared, to live
and love not just another person
not just family and friends
But yourself
Poetry, it brings you out
Out of your shell, or your cage
Or your box, It breaks down the walls
that keeps in everything you’ve never said
But you’ve wanted to say so badly
For poetry is you, your heart and soul
Written down in words you want no one to see
But you want everyone to read, just like you  
Want no one to hear your thoughts
But everyone to listen
Thats what poetry is
Emotion in its purest form
A construct of your thoughts
On paper, a form of record
That will always be yours
But also someone else’s
Because you cannot be selfish
With words you must be willing to share
And the brilliance of the words must not be
confused with obscurity, but a warning: they will be
Not everyone understands what passion and gusto that
Words are made with, spoken with, written with
But I did, I felt the passion, I felt the wave
And so I stand at the edge of the sea
Of words, waiting for some to hit me
and inspire my inner brilliance

Your fine eyes and lively wit
first caught his attention,
your light, lush figure
he discerned upon closer inspection.

You then had the audacity
to speak your mind,
to tell your unwanted suitor
where to go.

Nonetheless, what did he find?
A young lady brimming
with charm and intelligence,
a country girl of unrivaled specialness.

And hither came his letter,
an eye-opening missive,
a charitable benediction
that proved redemptive.

Here your prejudice began to be
worked on for the better,
its constant hold relenting
until it unfettered altogether.

His agony of rejection
soon warred against his pride,
his ardency for you
could not be denied.

A chance encounter
and you were
at once astonished
at what your heart did reveal,

his intense stare warmed your cheeks,
his kind words
and acts of goodness
then sealed the deal.

You could love no other.
And in this blissful denouement
you agreed to become his wife and lover.
Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy, Mistress of Pemberley...

Not even Juliet,
Nor even Elizabeth Bennet,
Could makest this heart sin.
It is only you,
And only you makest
This heart see one.
One that could destruct
One that could build
Only one that could summarize
All emotions to one.
Because you,
You my darling!
Is my painting Liza
Of the masterpiece,
My Joan of Arc,
In the field of battle.
And the Cleopatra
Of this heart like pyramid.

So it is shall by intent,
That my heart is at best yours.
Promised that,
Not even storm,
Not even plague,
Not even starvation
Nor death,
Could separate my life with yours.

Ever since I moved to a different time period, I get the strangest mail.

Letters commissioning Michelangelo
to paint the Sistine Chapel.

Elizabeth Bennet's missive to her aunt
promising pony cart rides at Pemberley.

Long lost IRS tax forms belonging to Abbott and Costello.

Leonardo Da Vinci’s Job Application to the Duke of Milan.

Even Grace Bedell's charming correspondence to Abraham Lincoln, suggesting he grow a beard.

I should have known something was up once I discovered Karl Malone was my mailman.