Side note of a flirtatious type: she told me once, with a wink in her eye, that Daddy just loved when she'd wear her white uniform at home. Whether getting ready for a shift, or coming home from one, she preferred to wear the most traditional white uniform as opposed to scrubs. To him she was just irresistible in that thing. ( I would've gagged had she said that when I was a teen, but I was 33, so I found it amusing.)
He prepared us girls ahead of time that he'd be reading this poem to her at the big party we threw for her. There was something important we were to do collectively after the last line.
Our Nurse Queen
by Lyle Dauber
I met her in Lawrence, a coed nineteen--
She was lovely and sweet, an absolute dream.
A farm girl by background, she understood work,--
Read books by the armload, a lifelong quirk.
We courted at church, at library, and at movie.
I asked her to marry me and was thrilled that she wed me.
She put nursing on hold and buoyed up the family:
Gave us four daughters, they're all very lovely.
When her children were little, their mother was there
To apply bandage and blanket, and dry every tear.
When her parents became old and survived on small pension,
She counseled with medics, and gave full attention.
Life's insults brought insights, and showed what is needed
To relieve hurt, and deep pain, a call that she heeded.
Student again became she--prepared for nursing at age fifty-three.
She studied drugs, and bugs, and hugs --and human anatomy.
At length she was pinned, given a cap of distinction--
Became an RN and thrust into action.
She'll continue as our queen (though no longer nineteen)
Till the day that we die and the time in between.
We wish we could more honor this person so precious
For all of her love, and her giving so generous.
Will say more 'bout it later--can't do justice now--
We'll simply enjoy taking this genuine bow.