Urban Lee Ridings and “Who Lives Alone?”

Recently I was going through a folder I’ve held onto over the years, which has some of the poems I wrote the old-fashioned way, with a piece of paper and a pencil or pen, along with some similar keepsakes. Among the other pieces in the collection, my mother is a major contributor. She has always had a great way of giving things that feel special enough to make me want to keep them forever.

Flipping through that folder, looking for something to share with Mom when we visited in January to celebrate her retirement, I found a handwritten poem that’s not mine. At the bottom, the writer signed the piece “Terrapin Ridge,” which is that lovely area in Illinois everyone in my mother’s family remembers as being “home” for a very long, short period of history. I sent this poem, entitled “The Joy of Words: Who Lives Alone?” to Mom, with a query… she replied to say she had not seen it before, and felt surely it was her father’s handwriting. How did I come to have this? While I’m very sorry to say that I don’t have a clear answer, the poem is very special to me, as another of my Grandpa Urban’s gifts that, like the many I’ve received from his daughter, I just want to cherish and keep forever.

Mar. 13 Update: I am embarrassed to have to report findings from my brother (thanks Scott) confirming that “Who Lives Alone?” is actually the work of the gifted poet, Grace E. Easley… and I regret not having better researched this myself before jumping to the concusion above. We live and we learn, and I beg forgiveness. Though I am disappointed to learn that the poem below is not the creation of my grandfather, what remains true is that it was very important to him, and others in our family, and he is very deeply connected to the poem’s poignant sentiments, and to the poem itself, in my family. Spirituality, poetry and written words were of clear interest to Grandpa Ridings, and his passions remain alive in me and my family. I will relate more details on the handwritten poem which made it into my collection as I get a better handle on them. In the meantime, thank you very much for your interest, and I hope you’ll be encouraged to explore other works of Ms. Easley.

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I found a handwritten poem that's not mine. At the bottom, the writer signed the piece "Terrapin Ridge," which is that lovely area in Illinois everyone in my mother's family remembers as being "home" for a very long, short period of history. I sent this poem, entitled "The Joy of Words: Who Lives Alone?" to Mom, with a query... she replied to say she had not seen it before, and felt surely it was her father's handwriting.