Her First Ride

I don’t remember my first ride
In a motor vehicle
But I remember when
You told me of yours.

I don’t know what it’s like
To be nine with the world at war.
And then, upon war’s end
To ride my first ride in my uncle’s truck;
Banging out the news on pots and pans
Along with the Church bells of the world.
No, I don’t know what that’s like.
But because you did
I know what peace is.

I don’t know what it’s like
To fall in love with a Jew
In an anti-Semitic world.
But because you did
I know what acceptance and tolerance are.

I don’t know what it’s like
To start a family
During a great depression.
But because you did
I know what determination is.

I don’t know what it’s like
To help raise my sister’s children
On the unexpected death of her husband.
But because you did
I understand what duty is.

I don’t know what it’s like
To watch my family learn
The world is going to war again.
But because you did
I understand what anger and fear are.

I don’t know what it’s like
To take care of an ailing mother
And aging sisters in my home.
But because you did
I understand what service is.

I don’t know what it’s like
To bury a daughter and husband
And return from that depression to live on.
But because you did
I understand what perseverance is.

I don’t know what it’s like
To break a hip late in life
And refuse to give up on living.
But because you did
I understand what Grace is.


I don’t know where we’ll go tomorrow.
But I know that the best path to take.
Is to follow the girl
In the back of the truck
On her first motorized ride.

(c) Copyright 2002, Norman Dziedzic Jr.