


Ascension
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A poem for Jesse by Annie Bacon
Jesse was a quiet man, who listened more than spoke
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Wednesday, January 31, 2007 |

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A Poem Written in Memory of Jesse from the Mieden Family
Category: Writing and Poetry Jesse Jesse was a small man, with a large golden heart. He came into our family and we knew from the start. . . ... He was going to stay around and be with us for a while. We could tell by his attitude and his great big smile . . . He was a simple man who had a great deal of pride for all of his grandchildren who he adored by his side. Jesse loved to fish, almost any time of the year He loved telling stories for all of us to hear. He loved the outdoors, and air fresh and new. He enjoyed watching nature under the skies of blue. Jesse hunted mushrooms, somewhere near the wood. He was skilled at finding good ones and shared when he could. He loved the Green Bay Packers, the green and the gold. He'd cheer them on always - in the heat and the cold. With his pipe in his hand, he could often be seen . . . . Telling stories to babies, the old, the young and the teen. To anyone who would listen, Jesse had a story to share; about things that had happeed from here to there. His old Army buddies knew him fondly as "Tops" And the stories of those days never did stop. Jesse was the most proud of his time in the VietNam War, He served his country well, never looked at it as a chore. He was very patriotic; always glad he had paid his dues; Hesse was proud of the U.S.A. and the Red, White and Blue. Jesse loved his family very much, that was always very clear, He brought happiness to many lives - to many he was dear. Jesse made Eleanor (Mom) very happy, we all certainly knew that; They enjoyed spending time together or just having a chat. We will all miss you, Jesse - we'll miss your constant grin Save a seat in heaven for all of us, we will see you again. |

I once got an e-mail that was passed along from man to man. It went like this:As some of you all know, I've been a soldier stationed in Afghanistan for
quite some time now. Many of you know that I'm posting this from my
own home tonight, as I have been permitted to come home for ten days
on leave. It's been a very long time since I've been home. I flew from
Afghanistan to Frankfurt via military cargo jet (C-17 for those 'in
the know'). The next morning, we got on a commercial flight to
Chicago. I got off the plane, grabbed my big duffel bags and
prepared to wait in line for customs. To my delight, the Customs
officers were pulling any soldier-types out of line and passing them
through, with a pat on the back and a "welcome home". I immediately
had to re-check my bags for my final flight. After doing so, I
made a beeline outside. I crossed the street and walked into the snow,
the first I'd seen since January 2003, and stood at the base of the
American Flag for a second before I finally became overwhelmed and
fell to my knees. I grabbed a double handful of snow and rubbed it all
over my face. When I stood up, I realized there were almost 20 other
soldiers with me, all whom had the same idea. Most of us didn't know
each other at all, but for that moment, we were brothers who had been
best of friends all our lives. We decided to head on inside,
and one young man, his name was Mike, was still overwhelmed with emotion
and he could not stand. Another
soldier, a friend of his, went to lift Mike, and I took Mike's other
arm. Mike smiled weakly and thanked us. Here's where it gets tough to even tell the story:
Mike's friend said, "You know the saying, Mikey. . . when you can't run
anymore you crawl. . ." and before he could say anymore, I finished it
for him. "And when you can't do that anymore, you find someone to
carry you."
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