Oh Gott, wie traurig. Wieder ist ein Mensch, der Elvis nahestand gestorben.

Janelle McComb hat dieses wunderschöne Gedicht 1971 geschrieben

The Priceless Gift

Birthdays are always special
as your fourth one comes to you
and I wondered what I’d give you
Just anything wouldn’t do.

I thought of childish treasures
to hang upon your wall
Yet nothing seemed appropriate
or none I could recall.

Money seemed so cold and fleeting
Bought treasures go so fast
And I wanted a gift to please you
And one that would also last.

You know you’re sort of special
You are really all we’ve got
You’re Mama’s bit of heaven
And Daddy’s tiny tot.

I closed my eyes - the years rolled by
And I slowly found my way
To a shadowed corner in the attic
T’was a link to my yesterday.

I raised the lid to a frayed old trunk
And there a priceless treasure lay
A tattered apron with strings still tied
And I knew I heard her say -

“Son, I’m now just a precious memory
But don’t ever forget one thing
I always tried to guide your life
With these worn out apron strings.


They guided a man named Lincoln
As he steered the ship of State
It’s the only gift I gave you
That will never go out of date.

Apron strings changed the course of
History as great men felt their tug
They followed sons onto battle fields
Without the slightest shrug.

They guided both kings and beggars
Through harmony and strife
Son, you surely must have felt their tug
For how God has blessed your life.

I bowed my head and said a prayer
For I knew God had surely touched
A tattered old trunk so tucked away
And an apron that had meant so much.

So Lisa, I give you the “Priceless Gift”
That surpasses all other things
A whole lifetime of love for you
She tied in her apron strings.

Daddy



©1971 Janelle McComb