A letter to Matt

August 30, 2001

Dear children all:

I was going to send this strictly to Matthew Rockwell at first, as he has been kind enough to say that he wants me to send anything that I write. However, as I thought about it, I said, "NO!" everyone should become more sensitive by reading a little poetry once in awhile. So, here's your piece for the day. It ‘s something I wrote not too long ago for our girls. Yesterday, I spoke before a huge auditorium full of Lances' teachers and his staff, five hundred people, on his opening day of school. I was so proud. They gave me a standing ovation that sent on a long time. After that I was presented by Lance with the Little Red Wagon award from Antigo for doing good things for education, and the people were so kind and generous with their praise, I thought what my dear grandma Kerley always warned me about, "Pride goeth before a fall, Josie Anna". I guess that I must have an awful big bump coming if that is really the case.

I am just finishing a blanket for Scott Robinson Alwin III with a lighthouse motif. I will be forwarding some information for him about his great-great-grandfather and his gr.-gr.-gr.-grandfather father and son who were both captains of lighthouses--in fact, for almost fifty years apiece. They were awarded with many medals by this government for their deeds of valor in saving the lives of many shipwrecked souls at a time when ships went down in storms too readily. Please take time to tell your children what courage, valor, honesty, loyalty and love of humanity flows in the blood in their veins--along with the poetry of Bobby Burns, Peggy Robinson Bush and (may I include her?) JoAnn Robinson Alwin, and now Jordan Kleinhans. You have mountains to climb, kids, and rivers to ford, but you dare not settle for second best, Keep going! Keep going!

Our prayers are with all of you.

Mother and Dad Alwin

SAFE HARBOR by: JoAnn Robinson Alwin

What if the ship should writhe in violence,
And midst vast waves we two may flounder--lost?
Whom is my life is near. Thus, confidence
My sorely wavering strength will soon accost.

My anchor and my port my love has been,
When harrowing cares too close have seemed to press.
And fearsome life I soon could try again
With him; nor mind the storms and deep distress.

Then memory stirs fled times of callow youth,
When all too lightly I had held my life.
In calmer seas I finally know the truth,
All riches have been mine to be his wife.


from Matt's family archives

HERE COMES MY SON by: JoAnn Robinson Alwin

He thinks of himself as a winner,
Another O’Neal on the drive.
He aims with such grace at that basket,
And right through the hoop the sphere glides.

A son, six foot six in his stockingless feet,
Not a barrier stands in his way,
Now he pumps in the winning three pointer,
Can fame be but a moment away?

How he pivots and weaves like a dancer,
His fans gasp in wonder and awe,
But with modesty he the ball passes,
Viewers boo should the ump call a foul.

Ready, Coach, ’cause here comes your winner!
A player to raise your hopes high,
The one with whom fate would reward you,
It’s the one for whom each couch would die.

But wait--ah, yes--that is the problem
We must not rush my boy to the fray.
We will bring him along, but more slowly,
It’s his birthday--he’s just three today.


from Matt's family archives

OUR GIRLS ARE TOGETHER AGAIN by: JoAnn Robinson Alwin

Indeed, not alone felicities heirs,
Darkness comes, and oft’ deep despair,
And yet, when our girls get together it seems
They forget disappointments and care.

Time, its compassionate fog covers all,
Flawed promises, crumbled vast dreams
That caused pain and suffering once in the past,
Are now but hilarious schemes.

Sisters, confederates, colleagues, and friends,
But more, of a bond none can share,
Woven in youths hallowed halls in a home
That echoed with love and with prayer.

Deep into night they laugh and they cry
At each childhood advent recalled.
In bed, Dad and I hold each other and smile
As we picture six sweet daughters small.

“Where has time gone since braiding their locks
Was the typical problem to mend?”
Our pillows are wet, but our hearts are made glad,
Our girls are together again.


from Matt's family archives