Tuesday, January 25, 2011


Three paths mingled upon the whitened way,
Freshly covered with bright new drifts of snow.
One turned in along path of darkened gray
There just about half-way to mine, I know.
I walked to where my pathway split aside
Next to the other footprints threading yon.
I trudged ahead always stepping beside
Those other prints, then noted they went on
Past my path, imprints beyond my vision
In the moon glow and puddles of streetlight.
I did not care, for my firm decision
Was to snuggle into warmth that cold night.
And yet, I hope a friendly smile was there
To welcome, to greet, the unknown traveler.

Copyright by Myrna Trauntvein. Please credit me as author.


       It has been an interesting month since my birthday on Christmas Eve. I turned 70 and it was something of a turning--like going around a corner blind. My mortality hit me full force. I don't know why I had not paid attention until then but I suddenly realized: I am human. That means that, like all other humans, I am going to die. 
I just hope that I didn't inherit my female family's short (Great-Grandma Smith, 72, Grandma Edna, 78 and Aunt Renee, 71) lifespans. My mother, Jessie Elaine, died as the result of an vehicle accident. Then, years later, so did her sister, my Aunt Renee. Great-Grandma Ruth lived to be 84, Great-Great Grandma Mina lived to be 81, G-G-Great Grandma Mary was 75; G-G-Grandma Susan was 57; and G-G-Grandma Ida Pearl was 76.
I'm holding out for 100. I need to live that long to see how everything turns out. Some of my grandchildren are young and I do not have any great-grandchildren. So far, this family is a page-turner mystery. I am the person who turns to the last of the book to read the end before going back to start the book because I want to know how it all turns out. I haven’t the patience to wait to find out by reading one page at a time. Of course, in life, I am forced to do just that--wait. Therefore, my life and the lives of my near and dear remain unknown.
I wonder, when we die and end up in the world of spirits, if we pop into the mortal realm to stand on the side, unseen, for a few moments just to see how things are going. Do you suppose? Perhaps we are too busy with angelic duties to do that and have to wait for other family members that we left behind to join us and fill us in on all the family goings-on.
At any rate, one of my friends said, “You are older today than you were yesterday but you are younger than you will be tomorrow.” Somehow, odd as it may seem, that settled my mind. Older today, and a bit wiser than yesterday but not as wise as tomorrow because I will have lived and learned another day. As long as I have a mind to think with, I will enjoy the here and now. Perhaps there will come a day when that will not be the case and each day left will be more confusing that the day before. But until then, watch out, life--here I come!

Friday, January 7, 2011



Broken petals of a flower, 
By childish hands, 
As cubby fingers
Grasp too harshly
The blossom 
To dump perfumed
Into my own with
Childish glee.
I must hold
This child of
Petal-stained fingers
Without crushing
What he may become.

By Myrna Trauntvein

Copyright by Myrna Trauntvein.
I have won several judged writing awards with this poem. 

Thomas V Pitts and Ruth Edwards Marriage

Utah Marriages, 1887-1966

Search collection
groom's name: Thomas V. Pitts
groom's birth date: 1894
groom's birthplace: Of Myton, Duchesne, Utah
groom's age: 21
bride's name: Ruth Edwards
bride's birth date: 1896
bride's birthplace: Of Myton, Duchesne, Utah
bride's age: 19
marriage date: 30 Nov 1915
marriage place: Myton, Duchesne, Utah
groom's father's name:
groom's mother's name:
bride's father's name:
bride's mother's name:
groom's race:
groom's marital status: Unknown
groom's previous wife's name:
bride's race:
bride's marital status: Single
bride's previous husband's name:
indexing project (batch) number: M73486-3
system origin: Utah-EASy
source film number: 481113
reference number: bk1 cn44

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Feast of Crumbs

Feast of Crumbs

I gave some crumbs to the birds
This morning.
Actually, it was a square of
Cornbread--two days old--
The last piece.
My children were not willing
To admit hunger so gluttonous
That they would need
To eat the last piece.
And so it waited, 
Hardening to crumbs,
But the birds were grateful.
I noticed them in my lilac bush,
Puffing their feathers against
The cold.
And so I took the crumbs to them.
And they made a feast 
Of the last piece.

By Myrna Trauntvein

Copyright by Myrna Trauntvien, January 5, 2011