This time of the year, getting together with family and friends during the holidays become treasured memories.
Life takes us down many roads and not all individuals are able to be nurtured and raised in their biological families, nevertheless, we all have people in our lives that we can consider ‘family’. For myself, I value the family I have been given and believe that we are on the road of life together. For this I am grateful for, because above all, families are bound by love and commonality. We are a ‘stick-together’ family, through thick and thin, the ups and downs of life, and the joys and sorrows we each face as we walk together in this life.
I hope this poem resonates with your heart, as it has with mine.
The Stick-Together Families
By Edgar A. Guest
There's nothing quite as valuable as family for those lucky enough to have one. That is the theme of this poem, The Stick-Together Families, published in 1917 in the book Just Folks by Edgar A. Guest from Detroit, Michigan. Guest (1881 -1959) wrote a poem a day, seven days a week for thirty years as a columnist for the Detroit Free Press. He was known as the People's Poet for his poems championing the traditional values of the typical American family of the first half of the 20th century.
The stick-together families are happier by far
Than the brothers and the sisters who take separate highways are.
The gladdest people living are the wholesome folks who make
A circle at the fireside that no power but death can break.
And the finest of conventions ever held beneath the sun
Are the little family gatherings when the busy day is done.
There are rich folk, there are poor folk, who imagine they are wise,
And they're very quick to shatter all the little family ties.
Each goes searching after pleasure in his own selected way,
Each with strangers likes to wander, and with strangers likes to play.
But it's bitterness they harvest, and it's empty joy they find,
For the children that are wisest are the stick-together kind.
There are some who seem to fancy that for gladness they must roam,
That for smiles that are the brightest they must wander far from home.
That the strange friend is the true friend, and they travel far astray
they waste their lives in striving for a joy that's far away,
But the gladdest sort of people, when the busy day is done,
Are the brothers and the sisters who together share their fun.
It's the stick-together family that wins the joys of earth,
That hears the sweetest music and that finds the finest mirth;
It's the old home roof that shelters all the charm that life can give;
There you find the gladdest play-ground, there the happiest spot to live.
And, O weary, wandering brother, if contentment you would win,
Come you back unto the fireside and be comrade with your kin.
The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author, and do not necessarily reflect the position of this publication.
