Celebrating life stories...



Memorial created 07-29-2011 by
Joel Panciera
John Penny Panciera
January 6 1925 - July 17 2011

This online memorial was created in loving memory of John "Penny" Panciera.  It celebrates the many ways that he has blessed our lives.  All of the poems, aphorisms, and stories on this website were taken from his journals and collections.  Every poem that is not attributed to others was written by Penny.  He will live in our hearts forever.  Please sign the guest book and share your memories of this special man.   

A Poetic Life

Penny loved the written word.  In an age of instant, impersonal communication, he enjoyed spending time creating handwritten letters, notes, and poems.  His writing was a natural, spontaneous expression of feelings.  To those who were fortunate enough to receive them, these gifts were a tremendous blessing.  It's a Hobby and My Communication perfectly illustrate his approach.
It's a Hobby
Poetry has always been a hobby,
If it feels good, I set down and write.
The feeling can strike at any time,
Doesn't matter, can be day or night.
How many times while traveling
You may find me parked along the road.
While there's nothing wrong with the Chevrolet,
There is something I wish to unload.
I do a lot of walking,
Most often with my stick in hand.
One minute the mind wanders to family,
Seconds later I'm in a foreign land.
I always try to carry some paper
And a small pen is tucked away.
Never know when they might be needed.
Never know what I might think to say.
A former teacher once informed me
That it's wise to be ready for when
You may need your pen and paper,
Some thoughts never return again.
My Communication
In this age of the super computer
   and communicaton systems that boggle the mind,
Where the information you seek
   is instantaneous, just push a button, it's easy to find.
Must be that I'm from an older school
   where speed isn't always the way to go.
Why not take pencil and paper in hand
   and record what you feel and know?
Don't need Mr. Gates or Mr. Bell when writing,
   how can they know what's in my heart?
They can't tell me where to begin or
   when it's time to depart.
They may aid in sending man to the moon
   or even some distant star,
But to me, the flow of graphite on paper
   is more satisfying by far.
Not to imply that technology is bad,
   without it we are falling behind.
The knowledge is present in each of us,
   though it might be of a different kind.
For a machine to print out, "I love you,"
   might stir emotion on the receiving end,
But it will never replace those works
   as written by the hand of a special friend.
In some ways computers resemble man,
   yet we move at a different pace.
The memories one builds over years are set,
   not capable of instant erase.
So good luck to those in technology,
   may your future be brighter each day.
I much prefer my pencil and paper
   and will communicate the old fashioned way.

Any type of experience could prompt a beautiful poem - such as the one year birthday of Anne, his only granddaughter, or a fun weekend watching John Wayne movies.
The One
I spent considerable time in card shops
   in hopes of finding "the one."
Hundreds and hundreds were on display,
   by weight they could well approach a ton.
Oh, some were funny, most beautiful in design
   yet none expressed what I wanted to say.
Time to pick up the pencil and pad,
   to me, this is a much better way.
Don't need anyone to say "I love you"
   when that was never in doubt.
 Having a wonderful Granddaughter like you
   is what living is all about.
Not a day goes by that you aren't in my thoughts,
   each night you're in my dreams.
What pleasure I feel when viewing the photos
   of your face that literally beams.
If one year is any indication
   of what the future holds in store,
Please bring on your todays and tomorrows 
   because we're always ready for more.
While I'm certain that Hallmark would disagree 
   with this proud Grandfather's plan,
Why search for something when you already have it,
   "The One" is definitely Anne. 
My Weekend
The weekend is almost over,
John Wayne has filled our screen.
He's fought Indians and desperados
In places I've never seen.
Were I to count the hours
That he and I have shared,
You'd look a far piece to find
Any moment to be compared.
We've drilled oil wells in Oklahoma,
Driven catttle all over the west.
When it comes to pickin' women,
Duke, you have to be the best.
You've taken me to Ireland,
How I'd love to visit there.
Any chance that Barry Fitzgerald
Could show up and share?
Too late in life, Duke, but thank you,
Every moment has been a treat.
We'll sure have plenty to talk about
The next time we chance to meet!

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