There is the great white hope, from boxing’s bad old days, when pugilistic violence was seen through genetic haze. There may be white clouds in the heavens shading us from the sun and those four boys from Liverpool gave us the White Album. (It was on that very album Beatles sang “Birthday” song once new.)
“White as the driven snow,” is cliché denoting purity and a fresh, white piece of paper is perfect for doodling. The Fabricated Four sang of white knight on a steed as they pinched their dollar one and sang to Sleepy Jean. But today the white I’m thinking of is librarian so lovely.
Meredith Willson wrote of Marian when he penned The Music Man and there’s no finer librarian than Amy White in any land. Three score years this very day MS Amy came to Earth and since she descended from the heavens she’s done naught but increase it’s worth. She’s full of loving compassion tempered with grit and common sense.
Raise your glasses up for Amy White (but not up on your forehead) words honoring this elemental force are far too often left unsaid. Age brings some of us to bitterness, while others wisdom find, all I know is that Amy White is bright beautiful and kind. Happy birthday on your special day! I sure hope that it is grand!