[Publisher’s Note:  The last Marshall Jamison poem we published here in Boles Blogs was — Paul’s Wife — on June 15, 2000.  Marshall died  September 2, 2003 at the age of 85.  We still massively miss him.  Boles Blogs author Steve Gaines — who worked with Marshall in educational television in Nebraska — recently found the following poem Marshall wrote to celebrate Steve’s retirement from the network.  Steve was kind enough to email us Marshall’s original, handwritten, poem — which we are overjoyed to present to you today:  The first new Marshall Jamison poem published here in 13 years; and a decade after his death.]

For months, my wife Elizabeth and I had discussed going to Orlando and taking our son Chaim Yosef to Walt Disney World so that he could see Mickey Mouse and his friends as well as Lightning McQueen from his favorite movie — Cars. We spent quite a lot of time working out finances and started putting the plan in motion when we saw that the airline JetBlue had announced a sale — only $89 each way, quite a discount.  I called my mother and told her that we were thinking about going to visit Chaim’s pals in Florida and she lovingly started asking me if we had the money to go and how it was possible that we could afford it.

As a relatively new parent, I have to cringe a little bit when other parents ask me certain questions about parenting. Specifically, when they ask me how I am going to approach “potty training” — that term just puts me into a bit of upset. I have yet to find any person who can give me a solid reason why a silly childish term had to be created when a real term — toilet — was already there.  In Florida, the equivalent of the “potty training” substitution is happening on the House floor. State representative Scott Randolph, in part of his argument against union dues being deducted from the paychecks of state employees, used the word “uterus” — and apparently it upset a few people in the House. Randolph was asked to kindly not discuss body parts while on the floor of the House.

University of Florida football quarterback, and Heisman Trophy winner, Tim Tebow is the worst kind of Christian:  Self-promoting, crass, entitled, fragile, haughty, and invoking the sacred right of Crybabyism when God doesn’t answer his prayers.  During every football game, Tebow advertises his public love of God in quaint Bible verses printed on homemade eyeblack patches.  Each week his his mommy sends him a list of quotes to use.