I was born in Lower Island Cove in 1932 - left my planet Newfoundland in 1951, and made my home here in Nova Scotia in 1954. I do visit Newfoundland now & then with my children; you see, I am always homesick, but need to stay near my children and grandkids. I moved to Mahone Bay in 2003, and next to me was a lady born & grew up in Grand Bank, July 14, 1920. We had lots to chat about; both of us widowed, and both of us learned to knit very early in life. To chat in our own language was wonderful - I miss her so much, so I wrote a poem in her memory. She died Mar. 9th from a surgery problem. In Newfoundland the old ladies would say, "Shed your tears and get on with your life."

There was a poem written in 1869:

Hurrah for our own native isle Newfoundland
Not a stranger shall hold one inch of its strand
Her face turns to Britain, her back to the Gulf
Come near at your peril, Canadian wolf.

I wish to ask our Prime Minister, Danny Williams, to pull up the three anchors - Cape Ray, Cape Race and Cape Bauld - and move our planet away from the Gulf, out over our oil wells - easier to drill. Tug boats can move anything, you know. If we didn't have any sense of humor & laughter, life would be very difficult. Laughter always keeps us alive longer. My friend Gladys always read my Downhome, and we always talked about the news. So many stories were always told in olden times, & now they can only be told when we gather as "Newfs." We are all over the world - I'm glad your magazine goes to so many places; it gives us comfort deep inside. God bless every rock on our isle & every living thing that dwells there.

Gladys White "Rogers" Herridge
Born July 14, 1920
To the late George Edward & Elizabeth Ann "White" Rogers
of Grand Bank

Ode to Gladys

She grew up on planet Newfoundland.
Her island faced Britain, its back to the Gulf
She had time to laugh, sing & cry
As she worked hard, learned to survive

As a mother & grandmother she did her best
She gave so much to her fellow man
Worked most of her life & sang in a church choir
The Good Shepherd held her in times of pain

Her friendship was special to me
We both learned to knit for me age five
Being twelve years older, loved to tell me what to do
No more knocking on my door "Is ya alive?"

We shared memories of our Planet Newf
In the language of olden times
After many years away from our Island
It was a blessing to be in Newf again

The angels sing
The clouds move slowly by
Eternity forever
Where naught can touch thee Gladys.

Written Mar. 31/08   Submitted By: NULL