Celebrating Life...
Creating Dreams website

In memory of Jon Shada, died in a car
crash in October of 2004.  I trained Jon
where we worked.  A young man who loved
life.








What Would He Had Said

When this young man,
Is laid to rest,
We're left wondering,
Did we see him at his best?
Plans for a future, he often told.
Ideas were creative and bold!
Told with a sparkle in his eye,
Of inventions,
He'd be willing to try.

Happy and carefree,
This is what we'd all see.
A smile, that put us at ease.
With a joke, he'd try to tease.
There was no anger or hatred,
From this gentle-man.
He enjoyed his time,
Living in this land.

Dreams of college,
Were on the way.
He had hopes for a better day.
We lost more,
Then a young man today.
A voice for our future....
.....went silent....
...........nothing more to say....
Jon Shada

For two years, I worked with a young man, who
was a joy and a headache at the same time. He
lived life to the fullest and found joy in making
others laugh. He was killed in a car crash about
eight months ago and I don't think there was
one day at work that didn't pass without
someone telling a story about Jon. He was an
innocent, carefree, intelligent man who at the
same time could be characterized as a "bull in a
china shop."

July 9, 2005 would have been Jon's 25th
birthday. With this poem I wanted his parents to
know, that we still think about them and that Jon
is still a very big part of our memories...







Joyful Memories

Not quite a quarter of a century
dreams never totally realized
not quite long enough to leave a legacy
broken hearts, still mourns, still cries

Not quite 25 years
couldn’t achieve your goals
today, we remember with tears
a young man with a carefree soul

At work, you seem to make the day
joking and looking for a bite to eat
with things you did or words you’d say
shaking our heads, laughing out of our seats

Your memory will always live on
stories retold time after time
still hard to believe you’re gone
your smile lives on in our mind

It was hard to stay mad
at some of the things that were done
you’re one of a kind and I’m glad
we got to share time under the same sun

Gave it your all and you lived with a zest
Today on your birthday,
wishing you peace and rest
Spreading your wings you began to fly
And I’m sure you’re saying…
“I’m happy, please don’t cry.”
Jon Shada
Andrea Scherling

click photo below for
tribute page to Andrea
Scherling
A poem I wrote and read at my father-in-law's
funeral in 2004

A Man With Many Titles

Many years ago,
A child was born!
George would be his name.
For the rest of his time,
In this world,
Many lives, would never be the same.

He was the joy,
Of his Father and Mother.
And his titles had begun.
He was a son,
And also a brother!
Adulthood made him a husband and a Dad.
War came, his little family,
Became fearful and sad.
A son, brother, husband, Dad,
And now, a soldier, too.
But his titles were far from being through!

When he returned, his family grew!
Four sons and a daughter, too.
A simple life, is what he would stress.
For five kids, on a farm,
They were truly blessed.
A new title, a farmer,
He would receive.
But his wife and children,
Would be all he'd need.

His titles still far from done,
George would add a few more,
Living his days, under the Sun.
Grandpa came!
For his grandkids,
He always had time,
To play some games.
He watched his family, grow and thrive.
Pretty soon, Great-Grandpa, came alive!
He reminded us, that family came first.
It helped fill our spiritual thirst.

When his time comes to an end,
A message to his family, he will send.
"By your side, I will stay.
I'll be here each and everyday.
Its OK, the pain is no more.
Please don't rush, I'll be waiting for you,
At Heaven's door."
How many bosses in your life did you truly
admire and respect? That made your work fun
and you took pride in it? How many bosses
have you worked for that wouldn't ask you to do
something that he wouldn't do? In July of 2004,
my boss retired. I wrote this poem in his honor.
It was also the first poem someone asked me
to autograph. If you got a good boss, cherish
him (or her) because when they leave, nothing
is never the same. Jerry, I now appreciate more
then ever all the things you did for ALL of us.
Jerry, was originally from Oklahoma, so any
southerners, out there may understand the
"twang" in his voice, which I tried to do in the
poem.








Mr. Production Superintendent
Man

God Damn, Mr. Superintendent man.
Running a bakery on cruise control,
Always running at a steady flow!
He gave it his all - his heart and soul.
Tell us, you don't have to go!
Your stories you told a time or two,
From Dallas and Kansas City, too.
But the one's we'll remember best,
Happened right here.
I'm sure, they'll never, be put to rest.

By the oven, nuts on the floor.
A scared worker,
Heading for the mixing room door.
"I wouldn't have done that,
If I was you!"
All he saw was Jerry's veins,
Turning deep blue.
"Get the buckets,"
Said more then one time.
But you always restored order,
Until things were running just fine.

You could see through our lies.
"Bull shhhhiiittttt."
Originality, we would try.
"I'm in jail,"
But this too, would fail.
How many gray hairs,
Did you receive,
When we tried to deceive?

You told us your roots,
Down Oklahoma way.
Kunta Campbell, was born that day!
Words you never wanted to hear,
"Not my job."
And you proved it, year after year.
Our "String bean,"
Was a tall, lean, working machine!

On July 2nd, 2004,
You'll take one final walk,
Out the side door.
With tears and applause,
We'll say good-bye.
If you listen closely,
The building....
Will let out a sigh.
Jerry Campbell
A poem I read at my mother-in-law's funeral in
2005... I entitled it

Our Mom And Best Friend

Jim, Harold, John, Betty, and Ray
your children... and their families...
we’re all with you on this special day.

We’re comforted with thoughts,
of a sleep full, peaceful rest
and through our tears
we know we were blest.

Many pictures line our walls
but our memories will be the best of all
the stories that you often told
sharing a family history, worth more then gold

No more walkers... no more pain...
no more wheelchairs... able to walk again
we’ll find comfort knowing Dad
is by your side, showing you the way
and we’ll smile as we watch you two
dance the days away...

So many pants patched, hems raised,
buttons replaced and quilts made.
So many meals prepared, so many beds made
your work never seemed to be done,
but yet, you always had time for us and shared
in our fun.

You watched your children,
have children of their own
and your love for them was well known.
These grandchildren of yours,
kept the family tree alive
and it all started with the original family of five

13 grandchildren and 9 great-children, too
descendants of both Dad and you
it was your love that kept this family alive
and it is this love... that will always be by our side

Someday we’ll smile again...
but right now it’s hard...
...we lost our best friend...
On New Years Eve Day 1939, my in-laws were
married. Except for two years during WWII and
the year after my father-in-law past away, they
spent every year together. New Years Eve 2005
they celebrated their first anniversary together
for all eternity. I only had the privilege of
knowing them for nine years, but they were truly
magnificent people.  I wrote this poem using
their thoughts and words...

Their Time

On a cold winter day
our hearts were warm
by each others side we would stay

Only separated by World War II
at the end of the year
always reminiscing, saying “I do.”

In Marysville, Kansas we became one
New Years Eve was everyday
and our love was never done

Commitment our children would see
a bond they’d understand
within the strength of family

Love grew with new sons and daughters, too
children by marriage
we love everyone of you

We watched you start families of your own
grand-children bouncing on our knees
our little children were now grown

The years kept flying by
but we were never alone
now great-grandchildren were by our side

We’ll always be with you
but now it’s time
never forget we love you

We’re starting a new life together
it’s fresh and it’s new
and our love will last forever…
A man I worked with for the last 11 plus years retired in 2007, after being in the baking
business for over 40 years. I wrote this poem and the company put it on some fancy paper
and than had it professionally matted and framed.  I enjoy these types of personal poems,
which I read at the retirement party. The real thrill, for me, is reading it with a pause in a
certain place, bringing it to life. By the end, I had the guy in tears! Success!!!

Ode To The Fruitcake Man

there was a man a long, long, time ago
who talked of fruits and bread dough
he preached of the sweets and the booze thrown in
and how his product was better then sin

through the years he walked in many doors
coast to coast at food shows, shops, and stores
it didn't take long for the word to get around
when the fruitcake man was back in town

trying to convince others of its unique appeal
always dreaming of the million pound deal
"if we could do this," or "if we could do that"
"man, our wallets would certainly get fat"

Yeah, he was the man that sold fruitcakes
don't laugh, he heard all the jokes, for goodness sakes
fruits and nuts will never look the same
he's throwing in the towel, retiring from this game

somewhere in fruitcake lore
will be the story of the man who walked these floors
as he gets in his truck and rides away
we'll wave... and remember the good old days
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