Tribute to Merle O. Frasier
The following section is dedicated to Merle O. Frasier. He passed away on July 5, 2008. "Your Dash" is a poem dedicated to Merle Frasier. In Loving Memory commemerates Merle O. Frasier's life. It is an archive containing a poem and his life story that were told at his funeral.
The following is a tribute, from Merlue Frasier Davies to Merle O. Frasier, when the poem was written Merle was a resident at Lemay Avenue Health and Rehab, Fort Collins, Colorado, he recently passed away on July 5, 2008. This tribute's format, by Virginia Bennett, was changed to give recognition to Merle.
"I am an old cowboy stayin' at Lemay Avenue Health and Rehab home--
surrounded by others like me.
They say I'm somewhat unsteady to live on my own--
that this is the best place I should be."
"Most of my time is spent in this wheel chair--
gazin' at them distant hills
My weight is sometimes more than these broken up legs can bear--
and many times I'm bothered at night by chills."
"They tell me my birthday, July 21, is comin' 'round--
that soon I'll be eighty-eight
My daughters are standin' by me now--sayin, "What can
we get for you? We know you don't want to wait."
"A bottle, says, I with trembling voice--
and please don't look so surprised.
Liquor has never been my fav'rite choice--
so it ain't what you have surmised."
"I'd like a bottle, the easy-openin' kind--
one that was made just fer me.
One I'd keep handy and easy to find--
and could open it in sweet reverie."
When I start hankerin' for by-gone days--
days when I was in the saddle ridin' the range.
And I rode all day where the cattle peacefully grazed--
and my eyes saw very little change."
"Then I can open this bottle of mine--
draw deeply of its perfume,
And smell the fresh scent of the soft, whispering pine--
and the "Soapweed", as we call Yucca, in bloom."
"Another whiff will bring clearly to me--
the searing smell of burning hide.
Then will arise from dark memory--
the brandin's where I tireleassly roped and tied.
"There are many smells I long for-- like the sweet,
fresh smell of the prairie grass just wet from a good
Spring rain, And a supper of steak and gravy and
homemade biscuits made "from scratch", again."
"There's stirred up sage brush, and newly mown prairie hay--
from ridin' hard all day, the smell of a sweaty horse,
Saddle soaped leather, Nebraska sand and clay--
and cottonwood leaves mulching, of course."
"Oh, what a birthday you'd give me--
if what I'm askin', you'd fulfill.
I'd drink from my bottle daily--
addicted to "memory's still."