JOE JOE

Joe Joe DeJoy
was a sad-eyed boy
at S.V.O.

Quiet and taciturn
and all alone,
he'd rock on his swing,
to and fro,
to and fro,
his toe never parting
from the ground below;


to and fro,
to and fro,
sad-eyed Joe,
on the playground
at S.V.O.

Autumn,
winter,
spring,
and
summer,
passed in steady number;
once,
twice,
thrice,
and two times more,
yet Joe Joe never changed his mode.

Then our paths were severed
at our age eleven,
when I was taken
to another home
far from S.V.O.


Ten plus seven years passed
along our separate paths,
nine of them beyond the doors
of institutions past.

And now in summer,
I was back in Columbus,
locale of S.V.O.

As I walked along a sidewalk,
a sudden loud impassioned call
filled my ears.
"Luke! Luke! Luke!
Luke! Luke! Luke!
"Luuuke! Luuuke! Luuuke! Luuuke!"

I reeled to hear
my nickname Luke.

As time stood fast,
my spirit winged
to the carefree swings
and
warm camaraderie
on the playground
at S.V.O.

In a flash
the reverie passed,
as Joe Joe who called,
came rushing towards me,
grabbing me by the shoulders
and clasping his hand in mine.

Ten plus ten years passed
and I again was back
in Columbus town.

I stopped at the church
in quaint German Village
to chat with Father Mason,
former chaplain
at the orphan home.

He talked about
the changing church
the changing priesthood,
and about Joe Joe.

How Joe Joe finally found success
as cook in a family restaurant;
How too too soon
an illness stilled his breath;
How when his death approached,
Joe Joe asked for just one favor:
to see the only parents
he'd ever known-
the former chaplains of S.V.O.

With warm compassion
to his bedside
came the chaplains of S.V.O.

Of the chaplains
Joe Joe made but one request:
that he be dressed in white
to meet his saving Lord.

And thus it was
that Joe departed
for his heavenly home.

What cataclysmic woe
befell Joe Joe in early life,
only God
and
Catholic Social Service know.