It’s been an extreme pleasure to be here today, and emotional, to say the least. Lot of members’ names I’ve forgotten, but when I look into your eyes, I get a picture of the last time I saw you. We were 30-some odd years younger. Didn’t we look good?
Young: And we look good now. I thought I heard an “Amen” on that.
I think it was last year – my nose is running, excuse me – I wrote a poem entitled “Mona.” She was the adopted daughter of Christine Cobb Young, my wife, and a sister to all the Cobbs to say the least, and we loved her dearly, and I’d like to dedicate this to out family that’s no longer with us, but in our hearts and to all the children that are gone and all the children that are now coming , because one day hopefully they will see justice and equality and love that we all dream and work for. And as I said, the title of the poem is “Mona.”
You came to us,
battered and bruised,
your ebony marred and scarred,
we bathed you in love and affection,
you healed and blossomed.
You called us Mommy and Daddy,
you brightened our lives and warmed our souls,
you laughed and played in joy.
You joined mom and family in Jonestown.
You brightened their lives and warmed their souls,
and you laughed and played in joy.
While praising the virtues of Jonestown here,
all were perishing there,
life, loss so near and far.
Oft I wonder why I linger on,
year after year, day by day, day after day,
longing to hear you call me Daddy,
longing to hear you laughing and playing in joy.