He loved his wife.
He loved his children,
his grandchildren, and
his great-grandchildren.
He loved his church.
He loved his camp.
He loved his country.
He loved to play cards and
won his share of nickels.
He was never late for dinner.
He always ordered the same thing and
he always tipped a dollar.
He always struck the same pose
for pictures but
he never struck a pose
for people.
He loved his sports;
from Bob Feller and
the Big Red Machine
to the surprising summer of ’90.
And of course he loved his Buckeyes
— all of them —
and he raised a grove
of his own.
He drove 35 on 22
and 55 on 71 but
he loved the rolling roads
through the small towns best.
He didn’t say much,
mum but never
mysterious.
Mark Twain once said
it’s better to keep your mouth shut
and be thought a fool than to open it
and remove any doubt.
But Bus was nobody’s fool,
and didn’t suffer them gladly.
His way was simple and sound;
he was always glad to see you
but the rest he left up to Liz.
He was old-school taciturn
and some would say
hard to know
but he is and always will be
easy to remember.
RectorSite 