Oh to have our team again from 60 yrs ago

2 thoughts on “Oh to have our team again from 60 yrs ago

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  1. Oh my, What a picture to have! I’m sure you smile when you look at this picture and you remember all the good times playing with your brothers.

    I know you aren’t on Facebook but my sister posted pictures taken of the Jordan tornado on June 13, 1976 that destroyed the family farm I grew up on. There is a picture of me completely covered in dirt from digging up all the rubble that was in the field. We had to get The fields clean so we could replant.

    We have had so much rain lately… About 3 inches last night… And it’s sprinkling again now. It’s so sad what happened in Yellowstone with the road giving away because of all the flooding. I think sometimes God is really angry at How we have been treating people lately!

    Hope you’re doing good and your Tessa turned out positive

    Sent from my iPhone


    Liked by 1 person

    1. What’s he that wishes so?
      My cousin, Westmorland? No, my fair cousin;
      If we are mark’d to die, we are enough
      To do our country loss; and if to live,
      The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
      God’s will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
      By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
      Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
      It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
      Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
      But if it be a sin to covet honour,
      I am the most offending soul alive.
      No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.
      God’s peace! I would not lose so great an honour
      As one man more methinks would share from me
      For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
      Rather proclaim it, Westmorland, through my host,
      That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
      Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
      And crowns for convoy put into his purse;
      We would not die in that man’s company
      That fears his fellowship to die with us.
      This day is call’d the feast of Crispian.
      He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
      Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d,
      And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
      He that shall live this day, and see old age,
      Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
      And say “To-morrow is Saint Crispian.”
      Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
      And say “These wounds I had on Crispin’s day.”
      Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
      But he’ll remember, with advantages,
      What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
      Familiar in his mouth as household words—
      Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
      Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester—
      Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb’red.
      This story shall the good man teach his son;
      And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
      From this day to the ending of the world,
      But we in it shall be rememberèd—
      We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
      For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
      Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
      This day shall gentle his condition;
      And gentlemen in England now a-bed
      Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
      And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
      That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.


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