A little poem

In another Shelfer's blog, there was an entry that reminded me of a little poem. This was given to me by a dear friend, a guy named Fred Griffith, a crotchety former police officer, a lodge brother, and recently deceased. The poem goes like this:

Take a bucket of water.
Put your hand in it up to the wrist.
Pull it out and the hole that's remaining
Is a measure of how much you'd be missed.

You can stir up the water with gusto,
You can stir up the water galore.
But pull it out and the hole that's remaininng
Is the same as it was before.

Now the moral of this quaint example
Is "Do the best that you can.
"Take good care of yourself, but remember
"There is no indispensible man."

Don't know why this was on my mind, but just wanted to share.

Mizpah.

R