Robert Lindner

Thanks Fred,

That was the picture I was referring to.

And the muse for my poem.

Hi Paula,

Yep. Mike was in a lot of musicals. I picked Carousel

because of the song, "You'll Never Walk Alone".

And because on page 126 of the Key, Mike is pictured.

He is singing, "If I Loved You"  to Sue Long.

Once Upon A Carousel

When you walk through a storm
Hold your head up high
And don't be afraid of the dark,
At the end of the storm there's a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of a lark.
Walk on through the wind.

Walk on through the rain
Though your dreams be tossed and blown
Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone.

You'll never walk alone

You'll Never Walk Alone

From Rogers and Hammerstein’s Carousel

He’s gone, there’s no more song,

But our carousel keeps turning along

With golden memories

Of his voice that would please

Our young ears. But now he’s

Gone. And all the songs he once sang seem wrong

Without his voice to sing.

But his passing beyond the storm will bring

Back songs that he sang to

Us, in times, we went through

Together. Just a few

Years ago (maybe more), we were doing

Our thing, and sweet Michael

Could be Billy, singing in Carousel.

But earth turned and the storm

We all expect, did form,

As storms do on the warm

Winds that blow, as the musical will tell

Us in our memory

And when the storm comes as it must, we

Will hold our heads up high

To watch the lark fly by

When there’s the golden sky

At the end of the storm, where Mike will be,

Arm outstretched and showing

Us, he’s there in the rain, with wind blowing

Through the dreams that we find,

When we are so inclined,

In pictures in our mind,

In memories that like us are slowing

Down. But people we’ve known

And liked will come back and I hear the tone

Of the Carousel theme

As I ride on a moonbeam

And a world I still dream

Of, sings like Mike, “You'll never walk alone.”

I remember Janet from Nichols.

So here is my Nichols salute

To her.

On the Grand Canal

The Gondolier will row

With her to the Piazza San Marco,

Past Palazzo Doge,

Where a happy day

Passed for us on our way

To distant futures that we could not know,

When Nichol’s school would show

The architecture of the Palazzo,

And we would sing her praise,

Sing of the happy days,

As loud voices would raise.

Then along time’s canal we all would go

With the gondolier, who

Will know the way past Saint Marco’s square to

Go, where the white dove cries,

Under the bridge of sighs

And brings heaven’s new prize

To the hall of memories. And we knew

Her once before and we

Try to take time to find the memory

But time has passed us by

And we are where doves cry

Too often and the sky

That’s above the Piazza is hazy

But we’re on Canale

Grande and there the Palazzo Doge

Showed us the way. And we

Were there and so was she,

When gondolier would be

Rowing and singing of that happy day.

When we were together

In that time so long ago when we were

Blessed by youth and our song

We now sing with voices strong

With love that can’t be wrong

As we recall and say goodbye to her.

Posted on: Mar 04, 2023 at 1:30 PM

Hi Rosanne:

I had AP History, Math, Chemistry, Physics, but not English. I had Barbara Pannwitt for an honors class. So I was not in that one with you.

Been to Alaska about 15 years ago. Plan to go back, best cruise Pat and I were on.

I have some memory of Steve, but I'm not sure why.

What interested me is he went to Carleton and met his wife there.

I guess he would have been there from 64-68.

I was at Carleton as a teacher of Biology and Biochemistry in 1972.

One of our kids was born there in 1973.

Sorry to hear about his passing.

The MD in me is wondering what he was fighting before he died.

Posted on: Oct 22, 2021 at 3:33 AM

I remember Barry.

But I don't remember what our connection was.

Sorry to hear he has passed away. 

He has the same birthday as me, though he was a year older. 

Sorry Dan,

But you cannot stop Entropy. The parts wear out.

Posted on: Jul 15, 2021 at 3:20 PM

Hi Rosanne'

The situation In Israel was and still is troubling me.

So I wrote a poem about it.

I was not sure who to share it with.

But I thought of you, of course.


Israel, Palestine and Jerusalem

Today, both Israel
And Palestine are, sadly, trying to quell
Uprisings that are due
To problems that are new,
But are caused by those who
Are trapped between their heaven and their hell,

Because Jerusalem
Is holy, but cannot be shared by them.
But it’s not a new mess,
That city’s holiness
Will need both sides to bless
Beliefs they don’t have. It’s a problem.


But revenge, for the last
Affront in a recent and ancient past
That has had too many,
Is a reason to be
Doubtful the sides can see
Where they could agree and should agree fast

Enough to stop their war
From escalating, as it has before.
It’s an ancient problem
Because Jerusalem
Belongs to us not them.
As it has for 5 thousand years or more.

5 thousand years ago,
Jerusalem, where many think they know
Their religion began,
Was named for a god Canaan
Called “Shalem.” It was an
Old city then and now we watch winds blow

The smoke of war into
The eyes of those who split hairs and argue
About the history,
Ancient though it may be.
5 thousand years, the sea
Saw Greek, Roman, Christian, Muslim and Jew

Claiming this little place
Was where they thought they belonged by God’s grace.
This little place that was
Given to them because
It was written in laws
Passed down in holy books, most of which base

Their views of history
On stories told that were mythology.
But that’s not here nor there.
Because we’re here, we’re where
The people there won’t share,
And can’t find solutions they can agree

On. Because both sides are
Divided against themselves and too far
Apart internally
To bargain for any
Solid majority
Of the Muslims or Jews. They’ve set the bar

Too high on both sides to
Negotiate. Things were better a few
Years ago, which means there’s
Higher hills, and more stairs
To climb to get affairs
In order, in order to make it through

The impasse that recent
Events have caused. Many years have been spent
Trying and they will try
Again. But bombs will fly
And some people will die
And agreements will be broken or bent
Because divisions are
Too sharp. Well, we can wish upon a star
And hope for Solomon
To take the problem on.
But Solomon’s long gone
Jerusalem today is much too far

Beyond those ancient kings
Of the city. But history still clings
To words written in an
Ancient parchment that can
Tell us how the world began
But cannot tell us how to correct things

In these new centuries
Of global war and pandemic disease.
But Israel is more
Than Jerusalem or
Palestine. But there’s war
There and with that all of humanity’s

Insanities are there.
Too soon bombs and rockets may fill the air
For now the drones rehearse.
But it keeps getting worse.
Are the Old Books a curse?
Who can say? Perhaps there’s no one who’d dare

And it would go unheard.
Israel, Palestine with their absurd
Arguments that are caught
Up in hatred that’s taught
Where God’s love should be brought.
But few appear to listen to God’s word.

A Penny For Heaven

A Penny For Our Thoughts

For Penelope Ann Thoms (Our Penny)

In for a Penny, in

For a Pound. So they say when they begin.

But Penny Thoms was more

Than any money or

Some other metaphor.

She was poetry, she was genuine.

She cared for the dying,

And brought peace to them, as they were lying

In their Hospice beds. She

Was Chaplain and would be

Bringing eternity

To their souls and to those who were crying

For a dying parent

Or for family. She was heaven sent.

As close to saintliness,

As could be. And she’d bless

Lives that were in distress

With her presence. Fading lives that she spent

Last days with, consoling

Them, their families, while she was bringing

Heaven to them. And now

She’s found it too somehow,

And ‘neath the golden bough,

She sleeps. And all the angels are singing.

From Robert Lindner For Penny

Penelope (Penny) Thoms, (Tubrid, Kenmare, Co Kerry) on the 27th of August, 2020, peacefully in the tender care of the Doctors, Nurses and Staff at Killeline Nursing Home, Newcastle West, Co Limerick. Beloved wife of the late Stephen Mead Johnson. Dear loved and sadly missed by her relatives, kind neighbours and many friends.

May She Rest In Peace

In accordance of H.S.E. guidelines and in the interest of Public Health a private funeral will take place with private cremation at the Island Crematorium Cork.

Please use the online condolence book below as an option if you wish to offer your sympathies.

Penelope's (Penny's) family and friends would like to thank you for your support and understanding at this difficult time.

Date Published: Saturday 29th August 2020Date of Death: Thursday 27th August 2020

Posted on: Sep 12, 2020 at 10:48 AM

Hi Wynndy,

Happy Birthday.

I wrote you when the fires were burning in 2018. That was in November. It's only September and there are fires up and down the coast. Once again I hope you are OK.

The fires reminded me of when I heard Deep Purple do Smoke on the Water and that triggered s poem of course.

A Fire in the Sky

“We all came out to Montreux
On the Lake Geneva shoreline
To make records with a mobile
We didn't have much time

Frank Zappa and the Mothers
Were at the best place around
But some stupid with a flare gun
Burned the place to the ground

Smoke on the water, a fire in the sky”

Smoke on the Water by Deep Purple

California’s Burning

There are fires in the sky,
The winds are blowing and it’s hot and dry
Up north, where the grapes grow,
There’s smoke and the fires glow.
Santa Ana winds blow
Down south in the L.A. hills where sparks fly,

It’s a hundred degrees
Or more down there and the smoke makes you wheeze.
Fire in the sky, the smoke
In the air makes you choke,
As fierce winds blow and stoke
The fires burning through the hilltop trees.

The fierce, dry winds are in
The north and south and the fires can begin
With a single candle
Or cigarette and will
Be too hot to handle
So quickly that the fire fighters can’t win

Their race with time, as more
And more fires burn out of control before
They can get there to try
To put them out, sparks fly
On the winds as the dry,
Dry air speeds from the desert to the shore.

California’s burning
Nothing new, just much more of the same thing
Flames bursting out of trees
Skies yellow with disease
Forests as enemies
As earth heats up and the climate’s changing.

The Climate is Changing

With fires in Oregon
And moving up the coast to Washington
They are catching the rash
From California’s flash.
Forests turning to ash,
Fires in the sky, smoke blocking out the sun.

You don’t need a flare gun,
A spark can burn the trees and blot the sun.
Fires burn the Golden State,
Fires near the Golden Gate
Move north going one state
Up to Oregon then to Washington.

Fires on the west coast and
Past the desert sand, they’re somewhere inland,
Wherever the sparks will fly
When weather’s hot and dry,
There’s a fire in the sky
And Smoke on the Water’s played by the band.

Be Well, Stay Safe

Robert

A Summer Solstice on a Father’s Day

When golden rays of light will stay and stay,
Till summer’s night, comes to mid-summer’s day,
Earth’s North Pole will again
Face the sun. And that’s when
There’s summer solstice. Then
The celebrations begin and we’ll say

Happy Father’s Day this year, the day
Summer begins officially, so they
Say, each year. Then they dance
The Midsummer’s day dance.
And father’s day, by chance,
Has come too because in the USA

It’s the third Sunday in June, where it’s been
Since 1910. Since Mother’s Day was in
May before 1910
They needed a day when
Fathers got their due. Then
In 1910 Father’s Day would begin.

And now it’s come again so here’s to all
The fathers, past and present, short and tall,
At solstice, the longest
Day, and it’s also blessed
By fathers, who know best,
By papas who like mommas need a call

And a song, like “oh my papa to me
He was so wonderful” and to me, he
Was so good. Or if your
Father can’t be called for
He’s a memory or
Just a photograph smiling brilliantly

Down at you from the shelf, then you can try
To recall summers when you watched the sky
Together, when the sun
Reached the horizon,
And it had just begun
To set. Then it brought a tear to your eye

Because the sun was shining so brightly.
And it shines again in your memory,
And tears are returning,
As your father’s smiling,
And solstice day’s passing,
With a Father’s Day into history.

Posted on: Apr 10, 2020 at 7:02 PM

Hi Renee,

I meant to post this into yesterday's
Message Forum but I'd just posted though
Since the Passover is a few more days
I decided I'd send it to you. So
Here's my poem for Passover this year
The year of the Corona and its curse
Of separation, of worry and fear
That Passover reminds us could be worse.

Passover in the Time of Corona

Today, in April, the moon is full, so
Passover has come again. But we know
That this year there’s a plague upon us
A plague caused by the Corona Virus

That separates and brings us together
Through our family’s Passovers whether
They were celebrated after the war
In this free land we called “the golden shore”

And during the war in the exodus
Of our family from worse than virus
Spreading through the congregations that are
Brought together although they are kept far

Apart. Brought together by history
Of both our people and our family
History of Moses leading our tribes
To freedom, history written by scribes

In the Temple of Solomon thousands
Of years ago of tribes that crossed the sands
Of the Sinai desert to reach the lands
Promised by God. Joshua led the bands

Of freed Egyptian slaves into Canaan
And the story of our people began
Today we celebrate that history
Just as our families have done, yearly,

And we celebrate as a people and
A family that came to freedom in this land
Escaped from genocide and holocaust,
Though many of their family were lost.

We celebrate their good luck and ours too
And we’ll remember and reflect on who
We are, the children of an Exodus.
Though this year there’s a plague upon us

We know Passover is not just a time,
In spring. It’s our history. It’s why I’m
Able to say Boray Pri Hagofen,
And drink the wine, as I remember when

My grandma made soup for the family
On Pesach, when my grandfather would be
The reader of the Haggadah. Then years
Went by and like the salt water, the tears

Of our family fell, as father read
When grandfather died and he became head
Of the table and of the family.
Then I followed him with my poetry

And this April, when we celebrate, we
Become the Hebrews of antiquity
That were able to reach the promised land,
Recall the Exodus of Moses and

Also modern Jews that survived the war
And holocaust. So we’ll reflect once more
On the happy years since their Exodus
Separately, but together, let us

Celebrate Pesach and keep the virus
Socially distant. “Far away from us”
Like in Fiddler on the Roof the blessing
For the Czar. Here’s to Pesach and to spring,

As the Time of Corona’s passing us,
We’ll be the children of the Exodus,
Separately and together, let’s pray
For health until Corona goes away

For Pesach, our people, our family
May the good blessings of the season be
Yours. With Moses let us cross the Red Sea
Then we’ll sing Eliyahu Hanavi.

And Elijah will come healing power
To take Corona virus out of our
Lives. And after Elijah makes it go
We’ll end with a chorus of, “Had Gad Yo.”

Robert