Design a site like this with
Get started

Three sisters,

Alice,Irene and Beulah,

Beulah a waitress and dig lover,

Married late in life,

A bull dog of a man,

Some people look like turtles,

Some cats,

And yes some dogs,

See I”m a Empathy,poet,cartoonist,

Beulah,Alice and Irene the Brainard sisters,

Beulah married a Bower,

All artist,

Loved them all,

Drove for them,

Alice and Irene worked forty years,

Northern Engraving ng until it bellied up bc and died,

Made dolls and crafts,

On holidays and weekends,

Trade shows and gatherings you’d find,

The three hardest working,

Iowan sisters,

Load um up move em out,

Pack left overs up,

Back to the upstairs,

The year 1992,

The Heike’s bought the Waneighs home,

Beulah’s smoking from years of waiting tables took her,

First it was the coughing,

Briefly the oxygen,

Could no longer walk her oscer her Yorkie,

Then like magic the other lady who I met watering neighbors dogs,

Slipped by behind the vale,

Alice hand distroyed by arthritis from forty years factory,

Making less then ten an hour,

All knuckles and both wrist replaced,

She”d show you in bedroom drawer,

Alice kept her joints in jars,

Leaving my anger and me,

Alice beautiful Alice,

Stooped cartelage from being bent over gave her a hump ,

Alice seemed like a horse show,

So much heart,

The sisters lives in a cute little house across from the Quillian’s,

Bea Regan’s sister married Ben Quillen,

The Brainard girls we became friends after I lost my neighbor Beulah,

I shall always remember dinners at the Bowers,

Beulah had an ice cream machine,

A dinner meant chocolate cookies and Carmel inside and home made ice cream.

Irene the oldest girl didn’t work at the factory,

Wasn’t a waitress worked forty years in the court house,

All cooked delightful things,

I shared them with first my Florence Fitzgerald who first filled my heart,

I first worked for Florence in 1984,

Washed her woodwork with Murphy’s oil,

Always was fascinated by the Catholic church,

Florence told me when I joined I’d have grace,

I think I got that from my fourteen catholic ladies I loved,

Florence family had her ask me if I were a homosexual,

I was twenty-six I worked for ladies,

I had no idea what the hell that was,

I looked it up,

I said no!

But that’s who I am,

Always loved women

Who would not,

Compassion and heart is a woman,

Florence and I were friends,

My half sister took the one thing I soared at with the lies of abuse to my mom. Never occured. Diana could not allow mom enjoying the rest of her life,


The Heike”s bought the baker’s house,

Vince Bower after Beulah died bought Lawrence Ward’s house,

And the Baker Weighner bought Beulah and Vince’s house,O

Only house I knew in Waukon Iowa with a murel of Chief John Waukon on the wall.

See the Baker wanted to upgrade his home,

Vince a brick layer by trade knew electric and carpentry,

His house rocked,

Tons of plugins and a work shop,

After Beulah’s death for a year the sisters carried on,

Alice was suffering,

Alice and Irene sold their home,

I had been driving fir them and doing their yard work.

See if all the girls Irene was the only one who had a child,

A girl,

Raised by Alice and Irene,

That girl born out of wedlock made Irene a grandmother,

What a gift,

I write this for her,

The Harts bought Alice and Irene house,

Bea Regan had a horrid stroke,

She could no longer speak,

I had gotten hired to work at Mount Rushmore,

So many of my true,

Blue friends had passed,

Beatrice Regan made me go,

She loved her card playing and chatting,

After fifty years taking care of Father O Sullivan for her to die ,

I was washing dishes when my next to last best friend died,

Management told me after my shift,

I had gone to South Dakota,

Left Dan and little Craig and my dog and cat and best friend mom to work.

Was it with it?



Published by Val's Whitewolf Books

Val's Whitewolf Media Anchor PodCast. I write here on WordPress. I believe that everyone should tell their story and that every book is a learning tool that will help those of us who are writers become better at our craft.I'm learning plus becoming more confident as an empath its important to share and touch with my heart others harmed by others words. I sell books on Pango.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: