Pine Bluffs Poem by Bill Galvin

An unassuming Wyoming border town near Nebraska;
Pop 1147, elevation 5049 feet; heydays back in 1884,
When it was the largest cattle shipping point
On the Union Pacific Railroad..
A “Frontier Crossroads” the pamphlet claims.
Small, not to impressive to someone traveling East,
Who’s already seen the Best of the West;
But the first “rodeo” town you hit traveling westward,
Hence the nice brochure expounding its virtues,
From Texas Trail days to Rodeo Days to archeology.

I see quaint obsolescence;
The rodeo arena tiny; the old Main St, well, very old.
Tidy ranch houses, all different; with a sense of community.

But, I’m here because my sweetheart spent a night here
On her trek East traveling the same route I am.
She mentioned camping here in ‘78, on her solo journey.
Her letter to me talks of seeing a rodeo here;
And I find the old corral; with seating for only 100,
And overflow crowds stand around the arena fence.

Two blocks away is the campground she stayed at,
Where, with other campers, she played touch football
In an adjacent field… I find the grassy field still there.
I have an old photo she took of our small blue tent
Set up with the railroad tracks in the background.
This is the field where she took a tumble,
And may never have recovered from it.
In her letters, so unlike her to mention discomfort or pain,
She talks of tripping over discarded farm equipment
Hidden in the grass; and getting a great pain in her chest.
This pain bothered her the next few days
As she drove toward her brother Paul, in Wisconsin.
Paul was there temporarily for work,
And he told me she arrived tired, as expected,
But she slept for two days straight, and was achy.

This pain persisted after arriving back in MA,
And within a year she was diagnosed with Lupus,
Having had pain and weakness in all her joints.
She lived another 35 years with that Lupus;
A survivor; until ugly ALS took over.

So, I’m here to feel what there is to feel.
And I sense her character; the simple, trusting one;
The one that respected friendship above all else.
I see her making friends easily; and shaping borders.
Do not misinterpret her, guys, friends only.
A woman before her time.

I see her running for the football, all out,
Like the Best Female Athlete she was in High School;
Falling, getting up; realizing something’s different,
Not right; calling it a night; then waking with chest pain.
Maybe it was only a strain; maybe not.
Doctors did not know months later; not important.

But, like any great athlete, she bested or played to a draw
This Lupus, and led an active, tho more restricted, life.

Again, I’m here because she stopped here,
Simple in nature, asking for nothing but honesty and truth,
On her way toward an unknown, but very challenging life,
Which she met with imperturbable poise and dignity,
In spite of all her physical misfortune.

A more courageous woman would be hard to find.

I am here to look upon the bluffs she looked upon;
To ride the same trail (she liked the cowboy mien):
To stand and breathe at the same coordinates,
But in a different age and time… why not?

She told me I was her best friend
Throughout our life together, even when “apart”.
She was open, trusting, forgiving, honest, truthful.
All she needed to live a good life
Was the same in return.

She lived on a higher plane than most,
Though it did not appear that way to others.

It was my honor to have been married to her,
And to have been considered her best friend.

Everything else was just gravy.


6-8-2015 (Independence, MO)