​To My German Wife

We all need each other, yes, we really do,
When we fall in a ditch or manage to get the flu.
My wife's maiden name is Schmidt, some German in her blood,
Planning by a German can avoid the ravages of a flood.
 
Germans get things done--their lists "checked" at the end of a day,
But in achieving their goals, their attitudes can turn a steel gray.
 
I, on the other hand, am Irish--the potatoes we dig,
We are people of passion and joy, we like to dance the jig.
Irish men have tempers, Irish women have hair red,
Irish people can quickly find exception to what you just said.
 
Basic chemistry will teach you to avoid a toxic brew,
Europe's had many wars--conflict for them is nothing new.
In our home, these two backgrounds meld into one,
And most of the time, we manage to have our share of fun.
 
But, occasionally, our ancestors' flags can get themselves unfurled,
Emotions can get raw and words can get hurled.
When this happens, it's best to call a truce,
Put your arms around, give your romance some juice.
 
The chill and distance must not be allowed to stay,
Mends your fences quickly--certainly within a day.
Make your home your castle, make it big and strong,
We sons and daughters of immigrants mustn't make our arguments long.
 
Dave Hale    hale-agency.com
09/09/11 
Ottawa, KS  The day after emotion fueled these thoughts...