Post-Thanksgiving Hope

Every year my dear friend, Bob Glaze host a pre-Thanksgiving luncheon for about 100 of his good friends. I count myself more than fortunate to be included in the number.

Last year there was no festive meal because Bob was in the midst of a battle with lung cancer.

Bob was one of Trammell Crow's original partners in building an amazing real estate and development empire.

This year he was back and back strong! I am grateful for his amazing progress. At 85-years-young, Bob is still working every day and encouraging everyone he meets to do their best for the city and especially for those who need a caring hand up.

At lunch on last Monday, Bob read the following poem as the conclusion to his traditional "blessing" on all of us, his buddies.

Sometimes
by Sheenagh Pugy

Sometimes things don't go, after all,
from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel
faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don't fail,
sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.

A people sometimes step back from war;
elect an honest man; decide they care
enough, that they can't leave some stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.

Sometimes our best efforts do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seems hard frozen; may it happen to you.

Thanks, Mr. Glaze. You have blessed my life and countless others.