I remember most skipping out the door

Toes on pea stones, then green grass, then the muddy path

To Chuck and Penny’s, flying in bare feet lickety-split

Fast like lightening over the wet patch, through the final honeysuckle,

Across Stevie Taylor’s lawn, jog right, duck low beneath the pine boughs into

The Mohan’s driveway, house on the left, horses on the right,

And in the middle of the pasture, the rope ladder up to the tree house.

They were peaceful days, full of Fern Hills, haystacks, the cock hi-hay,

Secure in the “peace that was once below a time.”

Farm school where, with a hatchet, we lopped off the heads of chickens,

Then their legs, whereupon boys, pulling on the leg tendons to make the claw

Move like live toes, in-and-out, in-and-out, chased girls in pigtails ‘till the screamed!

It was glorious! It was fun!

We played basket-ball through apple baskets with the bottoms cut out,

Up in the hayloft.

The May pole dance, Mrs. Ide, so, so much more than a recorder teacher,

Dipping candles strings in candle wax, lentil and hotdog soup.

Mother May I? Wanda? Letty? May I?

Betty and Geordie lived nearby, big farm. Was that Uncle George who landed his

Plane in the field?

Was that Aunt Peggy who cooked leg of lamb with mint jelly on Sundays?

Was that Betty who slept upstairs, always with a glass of waterNear her bed at night, or

Geordie who slept under the Admiral’s gun,

Like I slept under the banner: For God, For Country, and for Yale?

We paired in ages: Chuckie and Betty, Penny and Fritzie, Geordie and Peter.

David came later, the baby of the Haystack Gang.

We had blood in common, mostly Moffett blood, it seemed. We still do.

Though The Admiral loomed larger than large, there was Pete.

She spat on the floor, but she also made a mixture of

Honey, lemon, and a special something that soothed my sore throat.

I remember her funeral in Arlington, Uncle Chuck and Aunt Beverly’s, too.

Uncle Bill scared the hell out of me one night

When I crept out of my crib, down the winding staircase just as the sun

Snuck into bed, too, and he, hiding on the stairs, Yelled BOO!

Uncle George scared me too, once, when he got angry because

I defended Uncle Avery, father’s best friend, whom he did not like.

Aunt Beverly saved me, and in the end, he admired my not backing down.

Where is Bill, the man from Yale? Where is Mac, the maker of mischief?

Janita, the one who loved family, late night Christmas wrappings?

Where are Peter and Geordie, those two who made each other laugh

So much that we laughed with them, just to laugh.

We grew up, I guess; what a pain! Schools galore, partners galore, children galore

Yikes! Even grandchildren! To say nothing of all those degrees, all those countries,

All those….things.

Time to get back to basics, to simplicity, to the chi, the sway of the saddle,

The purr of the auto, the smell of the brew, the bend of the bow, the orchid,

The andante, not the allegro. Back to our motto: Frolic, Fun, and Food!

We are the Haystack Gang, now to include: Laura, Lisa, Sabine, Sharon, and Karen.

All those in favor, say Yea; those opposed, Nay: The Yeas have it.

Congratulations to all you in-laws who are now outlaws,

And have no choice in the matter, since I just took a vote!

We of Clan Moffett (that’s ett) are modest in all ways,

Never opine in a strong fashion, agreeable, accepting of all opinions

Contrary to our way of thinking, which is to say, the right way of thinking.

We are, as Eliot reminds us: “Glad to be of service, glad to be of use.”

How lucky we are, now, right now, to have each other, all of us here gathered.

We are not alone, and Genesis tells us it is NOT good to be alone.

Though we are what we have been, and will be what we will be, right now

We are One, we are here, we are with each other, and so, too, are Geordie and Peter.

So, I toast the Haystack Gang, and Stevie Taylor, wherever he might be!