A memory of Dad

A few years ago, Dad gave me a highball glass that he had kept for many years.  

It was etched with a the first verse of "The Children's Hour", 

a poem by American poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

Back in the '60s, Dad worked on cabins in the Balsam Lake area and became friends with many of the cabin owners.  According to Dad's story, in the afternoon, the word would spread as to which cabin would be hosting The Children's Hour.   

Along the way, one of the cabin owners had highball glasses made for those who were regulars; 

Dad kept his all these years.  

Now, I use it occasionally to sip a Manhattan on the rocks, in Memory of Dad & Ev.

The Children's Hour, it's a nice way to say time for an adult beverage.

Between the dark and the daylight,

When the night is beginning to lower,

Comes a pause in the day's occupations,

That is known as the Children's Hour.

Between the dark and the daylight,

When the night is beginning to lower,

 That's about the time that these two show up.