Winnipeg, Canada

We buried my Dad yesterday. Thanks to the hundreds of friends and family members who came to his farewell ceremony—a celebration of a 92-year life well lived. Thanks also to the many who have written me with kind words of condolence and shared memories.

Among the simple things that gave Dad pleasure throughout his long life was poetry. During the time of fellowship following the lunch yesterday I shared one of his favorites—a piece that expresses well his egalitarian Weltanschauung, and a piece that he would delight in reciting from memory—in that deep and spirited voice that anyone who knew Dad is sure to miss.

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House by the Side of the Road

THERE are hermit souls that live withdrawn

In the place of their self-content;

There are souls like stars, that dwell apart,

In a fellow-less firmament;

There are pioneer souls that blaze the paths

Where highways never ran —

But let me live by the side of the road

And be a friend to man.

Let me live in a house by the side of the road

Where the race of men go by —

The men who are good and the men who are bad,

As good and as bad as I.

I would not sit in the scorner’s seat

Nor hurl the cynic’s ban —

Let me live in a house by the side of the road

And be a friend to man.

I see from my house by the side of the road

By the side of the highway of life,

The men who press with the ardor of hope,

The men who are faint with the strife,

But I turn not away from their smiles and tears,

Both parts of an infinite plan —

Let me live in a house by the side of the road

And be a friend to man.

I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead,

And mountains of wearisome height;

That the road passes on through the long afternoon

And stretches away to the night.

And still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice

And weep with the strangers that moan,

Nor live in my house by the side of the road

Like a man who dwells alone.

Let me live in my house by the side of the road,

Where the race of men go by —

They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,

Wise, foolish — so am I.

Then why should I sit in the scorner’s seat,

Or hurl the cynic’s ban?

Let me live in my house by the side of the road

And be a friend to man.

— Sam Walter Foss (1858-1911)