Last updated: November 27. 2013 12:37PM - 809 Views
By Charlene Hoeflich choeflich@civitasmedia.com



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POMEROY — In 1976, long after Nelle Bing had left the area and was living in Manchester, Iowa, she penned a poem of her recollections about Thanksgiving on the family farm in Meigs County which was home to her for many years.


Bing, who was a nurse and is still remembered for her community work by some residents, was 92 when she wrote it.


She shared that poem with me and on a Thanksgiving Day many years ago it was printed in The Daily Sentinel.


I forgot all about it until I began looking through boxes of papers and pictures at my home on one of those days when I decided it was time to rid out the vast collection of stuff in boxes which I move around about once every few years and then put back on the same shelf from which I took it or in the store room for another day.


There it was.


I again choose to share it with our readers on this Thanksgiving Day for it contains a valuable message — that through the keeping of the holidays, we pass on the rich traditions of our families.


Enjoy and have a Happy Thanksgiving.


Thanksgiving on the Farm

By Nelle Bing

You may talk about life in the city


And your home so large and grand


With riches and comforts and luxuries


Always at your command.


But there’s nothing like life in the country


With a home so roomy and warm


And the day that brings sweet memories


Is Thanksgiving on the farm.


To be sure I love my children


And the home they give to me,


Yet my thoughts go wand’ring back


To my childhood days so free.


When Thanksgiving Day was nearing


And the fowls around the barn


Were growing plump, and ready


For Thanksgiving on the farm.


When we children fed the turkeys


Every evening, morn and noon


How we thought of good Thanksgiving


That would be here none too soon.


And what fun to watch the turkeys


As they fed in quick alarm


When we tried to catch the doomed ones


For Thanksgiving on the farm.


When excitement ruled the household


And the work was in full sway;


Dressing turkeys, cooking, baking


For the coming festal day.


We boys would take the pumpkins


And to the barn we’d run


Where we’d make our Jack-o’-lanterns


For Thanksgiving evening fun.


And at last the blessed morning


Dawned on earth so pure and bright


And the sun above the hilltops


Filled the world with radiant light.


Where the old farmhouse was crowded


With good farmers, aged and gray


And the merry happy children


Whose young hearts were light and gay.


“Twas a sight to see the table,


Surrounded by the cheerful crowd,


Laughing, talking, looking happy.


On their faces not a cloud.


Their hearts were raised in gratitude


To the One who shields from harm,


For His blessings, love and comforts


And Thanksgiving on the farm.


At last evening closed around us,


And each voice so clear and strong,


Filled the air with gentle music


Giving thanks in song.


How I love those pleasant memories


And their every little charm,


As I sit and dream in silence


Of Thanksgiving on the farm.

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