Jerry Brown:
CLASS OF 1974
Aurora-Hoyt Lakes High SchoolClass of 1974
Aurora, MN
Cotton High SchoolClass of 1974
Cotton, MN
Washington High SchoolClass of 1974
St. paul, MN
Ely Memorial High SchoolClass of 1974
Ely, MN
Medical Lake Elementary SchoolClass of 1974
Medical lake, WA
Jerry's Story
Some of the things I am interested in are gardening, feeding wild birds LIghthouses history of areas that includes the trees and geographical and work done in vicinity. I also take care of my step daughter since my wife passed away in 2008. We are Catholic, and attend church weekly. I also attend daily masses more in the winter than in the summer as I have to much other work to do, but I attended whenever I am able to do so. THE OLD CANOE – A Classic Canadian Song by George Marsh
My seams gape wide so I’m tossed aside
To rot on a lonely shore
While the leaves and mould like a shroud enfold,
For the last of my trails are o’er;
But I float in dreams on Northland streams
That never again I’ll see,
As I lie on the marge of the old portage
With grief for company.
When the sunset gilds the timbered hills
That guard Timagami,
And the moonbeams play on far James Bay
By the brink of the frozen sea,
In phantom guise my Spirit flies
As the dream blades ...Expand for more
dip and swing
Where the waters flow from the Long Ago
In the spell of the beck’ning spring.
Do the cow-moose call on the Montreal
When the first frost bites the air,
And the mists unfold from the red and gold
That the autumn ridges wear?
When the white falls roar as they did of yore
On the Lady Evelyn,
Do the square-tail leap from the black pools deep
Where the pictured rocks begin?
Oh! the fur-fleets sing on Temiskaming
As the ashen paddles bend,
And the crews carouse at Rupert House
At the sullen winter’s end;
But my days are done where the lean wolves run,
And I ripple no more the path
Where the gray geese race cross the red moon’s face
From the white wind’s Arctic wrath.
Tho’ the death fraught way from the Saguenay
To the storied Nipigon
Once knew me well, now a crumbling shell
I watch the years roll on,
While in memory’s haze I live the days
That forever are gone from me,
As I rot on the marge of the old portage
With grief for company.
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