VFW Post 6658 Auxiliary’s Patriot’s Pen Contest

Each year, the VFW Post 6658 Auxiliary sponsors a contest titled, “The Patriot’s Pen,” which is open to students in grades six through eight. Students are required to enter a typed essay of 300-400 words based on the theme: “My Pledge to Our Veterans.” Monetary prizes are given the winners on local, state, and national levels. Judging is based on knowledge of theme, theme development, and clarity of ideas. 

If interested, please contact Annette Wivell at 301-447-3475 for an entry form. Entry deadline to VFW Post 6658, Emmitsburg, MD 21727 is October 31, 2022.

Memories of a Swing

Poem by Sue Clabaugh

Written for the man who made the swing and for my grandson who loved the swing.

My first memories of the swing are joyful.

I am a tot, too small to realize the full meaning of the thing

But aware enough of my feelings to know

It is a joy and it’s fun.

It’s also love. love from my Mother and Father

one in front and one in the back

pushing me from one to the other

a threesome—making one

Showing a family of love.

Years passed—now I’m five.

Old enough to know the swing is the first thing I run to in the park.

I want the thrill of the highs, thinking that each trip through the air

I will be able to touch the tree limbs with my toes.

And the best part is the feeling of love.

A happy love for 

I’m being pushed—to and fro by my Granny

I trust her her—she pushes me higher than my mother does.

I’m brave because she is

the two of us—making one

Showing a family of love.

 Sixteen now—The years have flown.

I sit on the front porch swing

dreaming of the boy I love

The handsome one, the one with the smile,

And quietly he sneaks up behind me

And gives the swing a sudden push.

I scream and he laughs as he sits down beside me

to say hello.

We begin to talk and share each other’s company

We are unaware that our nervous legs are pushing us

to and fro—making us one

Showing our feelings of love.

I’m old now, very old, feeling very alone

sitting here on this rickity old swing.

 It’s the one my man made for me years ago.

It held our children and grandchildren

And then their grandchildren

All cuddled together

Swinging and smiling.

The one place that young and old could be a child.

I wonder what will become of it when I am gone.

Will anyone remember that

It brought a family together—taking turns swinging

to and fro—making us one

Showing a family how to love.