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This page is dedicated to the memory of Aileen Reynolds Kvistberg-my mother.
She wrote these poems when I was a young girl growing up.


When I phoned you on Sunday,
George answered the phone;
It sounded so quiet,
I thought he was alone.
"Where is your family?"
"Oh, I've got Marge in bed.
But I'll go get Beth-
She can talk to you instead."
By then I was wondering;
Oh golly, oh gee!
I hope nothing's wrong
With my sister, Mardie.
Then Beth started talking
And I heard every word.
But what she was saying
To me was absurd!
How could you think
You were going to the pot?
The basement is cool-
The bathroom is not.
But, nevertheless,
It scared me to death.
But I am so thankful
For Kaylynn and Beth.
I know they'll help you;
But please get well quick!
I don't like to think
Of you being so sick.
The weeds will keep growing
But so will the flowers.



Oh, what the smile of a child can do
When so many things are troubling you.
While sitting in church the other night,
A little girl's face came into my sight.
I had things on my mind hard to forget;
Problems with people and money,
Yet when I suddenly saw that little girl's face.
It painted a picture hard to erase.
Her smile was so friendly, warm and sincere.
It made me feel better-my mind was made clear.
Today I am happy because I can see That little girl Connie who smiled at me.



There's a dear little girl that you should know.
She's seven years old, her name is Laurie Jo.
She's a sister of Susie, who's four years old.
This is a story that must be told.
Laurie Jo was absent from school that day.
Her mom kept her home
"Cause" she was sneezing and coughing,
She didn't feel well,
But she surely showed bravery.
Somehow Susie got matches;
Her slacks caught on fire
Laurie Jo stopped the flames
From going up higher;
She tore off the slacks,
Then put her gently into a tub of cool water-
She knew what to do.
Susie's legs were burnt badly
From her feet to her thighs.
You'd think Laurie would panic
When she heard Susie's cries.
But Laurie was calm, what a dear little girl.
I am proud of her, proud as can be.
I am her Grandma, I love her indeed.
She's a rare girl, you'll have to agree.
While Susie goes to the doctor each week
Lauries watches her brother, Todd.
Oh please, world, accept them
And give them your love.
Just remember-they're Children of God.
Aileen Reynolds Kvistberg-my mother


Whenever I ride o'er the viaduct
and look down on the trains below,
I think of the days when my dad worked nearby
at the Union Pacific Depot.
We lived near Sixth South on Second West-- I was a girl about eight
The things I remember about my dad are grand, so I won't hesitate.
It seems that he always worked a late shift
And he slept alot during the day.
When friends came to see me,
We all understood that we would be quiet in our play.
I'd go to the corner to wait for him,
And on the corner I'd stand
Then I'd carry his lunch box the rest
Of the way and hold tightly onto his hand.
My mom always made him a wonderful lunch,
And I knew everyday, there would
Be his dessert still wrapped firmly
When he got home--he had saved it
Especially for me!
They say Fathers are busy, or tired,
Or cross; they have no time for their family.
But I can remember the many hours my dad spent with me.
So whenever I ride o'er the viaduct I always think of my dad.
I'm aware of his presence, although he is gone now.
He's the best there was to be had.
Aileen Reynolds Kvistberg


Oh, how I miss my dad so dear;
No one will ever know.
He used to do so much for me
And loved my so.
Each time when I would go out home;
The first thing he would do is get his dairy
And record the time and bus I'd taken, too!
With anything he ever did--He always was so neat.
The things he made, the yard he kept
Never will be beat.
And when the little kiddies from the
Neighborhood would come
He would always give them
Some candy or some gum.
He was such an active man
As anyone would know
Who saw him cutting his big lawn
Or shoveling the snow.
And as I sit and reminisce about my dad so fine.
It's hard for me to realize that he was 79.
It was 1955-right early in the day on Sunday, March, the 20th, that my dad passed away.
My dad had lived a long, good life and
I know that it was best for God to take him
Quietly for his last and final rest.
Aileen Reynolds Kvistberg
March 25, 1955


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