Bonnie….”, Dr. Sherman said
“Time to wake up, lift up your head”
The O.R. was still, the bright lights not on,
My tummy was flat, the pain was all gone.
I looked to my side and what did I see?
My baby – my son - from my body, now free!
Two tiny fingers in his mouth were held tight
A sweet little cherub, swaddled in white.
Should we call him Gary or Scott? We couldn’t decide
When I asked the baby, he opened his mouth and cried.
To have such dim-witted parents was very bad news,
Having no name would give any babe the blues.
The nurse at first asked nicely, then she began to beg
Finally she simply wrote down “Male Gregg”.
By the time we got home, we had decided on Scott
It seemed to fit the cute little tot.
At 9 months Scott took his very first step
Soon he was running, climbing on chairs
Into my cupboards, down basement stairs.
At a year and a half, Scott made his very first friend
A boy who liked to play cars or just to pretend.
It is now forty years, since that very first day
When Scott and John Pitman got together to play.
A short time later, I was back in the OR
Heaven had sent us another bright star.
Again we had trouble choosing a name for our son
We thought about Gordon, but the name Michael won.
Soon there were three in the backyard each day
Running about, laughing at play.
About the time they entered their teens
Their adventures began to have a new theme.
They had Star Wars fever, and nothing would do
But they make their own movie, and all the sets too.
Scholars of English history, they decided also to try
Making movies about kings in days long gone by.
Hours were spent writing the script.
Reading it over, making sure everything clicked
Then they began to began to build on the ground
castles and churches and a whole medieval town.
They designed each structure and cast each mold
So buildings would look right, when their story was told.
They assembled their cast of small figurines
And cameras in hand, moved them about, scene by scene.
Next they constructed a sci-fi set in the garage
Where captain and crew could comfortably lodge.
This time they acted themselves in the story.
When they entered the Northwest Film Festival
“The Price of Friendship” brought them honor and glory.
25 years have past, Scott is now 42
He’s captained his ship, with a vision that’s true.
He’s had adventures a plenty, known sunshine and rain
Holding fast to the tiller, heedless of pain.
Keeping eyes focused on the star of faith shining bright
That leads travelers through the darkest of night.
For each of us travels through time and space
Not knowing what will happen next
Or just how to find our place.
Scott’s met every challenge, trying to do his best
And in his mother’s eyes has past every test.
“Time to wake up, lift up your head”
The O.R. was still, the bright lights not on,
My tummy was flat, the pain was all gone.
I looked to my side and what did I see?
My baby – my son - from my body, now free!
Two tiny fingers in his mouth were held tight
A sweet little cherub, swaddled in white.
Should we call him Gary or Scott? We couldn’t decide
When I asked the baby, he opened his mouth and cried.
To have such dim-witted parents was very bad news,
Having no name would give any babe the blues.
The nurse at first asked nicely, then she began to beg
Finally she simply wrote down “Male Gregg”.
By the time we got home, we had decided on Scott
It seemed to fit the cute little tot.
At 9 months Scott took his very first step
Soon he was running, climbing on chairs
Into my cupboards, down basement stairs.
At a year and a half, Scott made his very first friend
A boy who liked to play cars or just to pretend.
It is now forty years, since that very first day
When Scott and John Pitman got together to play.
A short time later, I was back in the OR
Heaven had sent us another bright star.
Again we had trouble choosing a name for our son
We thought about Gordon, but the name Michael won.
Soon there were three in the backyard each day
Running about, laughing at play.
About the time they entered their teens
Their adventures began to have a new theme.
They had Star Wars fever, and nothing would do
But they make their own movie, and all the sets too.
Scholars of English history, they decided also to try
Making movies about kings in days long gone by.
Hours were spent writing the script.
Reading it over, making sure everything clicked
Then they began to began to build on the ground
castles and churches and a whole medieval town.
They designed each structure and cast each mold
So buildings would look right, when their story was told.
They assembled their cast of small figurines
And cameras in hand, moved them about, scene by scene.
Next they constructed a sci-fi set in the garage
Where captain and crew could comfortably lodge.
This time they acted themselves in the story.
When they entered the Northwest Film Festival
“The Price of Friendship” brought them honor and glory.
25 years have past, Scott is now 42
He’s captained his ship, with a vision that’s true.
He’s had adventures a plenty, known sunshine and rain
Holding fast to the tiller, heedless of pain.
Keeping eyes focused on the star of faith shining bright
That leads travelers through the darkest of night.
For each of us travels through time and space
Not knowing what will happen next
Or just how to find our place.
Scott’s met every challenge, trying to do his best
And in his mother’s eyes has past every test.
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