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A potpourri of stories about various family members or events, written by others and edited by me.

Echoes From a Distant Voice

[This is an item that my great-grandfather J.W. Westphal wrote (and typed) in 1932. My (Al) role was to first transcribe it, next to add corrections or clarifications [within brackets], and then to add links to people connected to me (that gives more information), links to give more information about places, and for those mentioned but not connected, I sometimes added links to FamilySearch.org.]

Images (skip to transcription)

envelope used to send poem

Distant Voice poem - page 1

Distant Voice poem - page 2

Distant Voice poem - page 3

Distant Voice poem - page 4

Distant Voice poem - Sylvia's notes

Transcription

[The following was sent to "Mrs. Edna Hibbard, St. Cloud, Minn. Route #1" from "J. W. Westphal, 2351 Bayless Ave., St. Paul, Minn." The postmark was in St. Paul, Minn., on March 26, 1932, at 9:30 PM]

Prelude to the poem:

"Echoes From a Distant Voice."

The occasion which called forth the thoughts of these lines in rhyme, was the celebration of a mother's seventieth birth-day and a son's all thrilling telephone conversation from the Westland by the sea.

The occurance [sic] was on March fourth and the celebration was planned in three installments.

The first was a quaint and fanciful gathering in the afternoon, at the home of the eldest daughter G. E. M. [Gladys Esther Westphal Moynihan] This gathering was attended by friends and kin, but was exclusive as to sex.

The decorations were gorgeous, the floral display most artistic, fragrant and perfuse; the cuisine prepaired [sic] with a view to ease, palatable food and the entire luncheon a display of variety and sufficiency.

All present and participating in the joyous and memorable event evidenced their pleasure in a spirit of ecstacy [sic].

The second contingent assembled at the home of the youngest of the trio (sisters) [Florence W. Westphal Hauskey] for a dinner at the proper central time dinner hour. We will not detail the arrangements, decorative features and menu except to say that aside from this being a dinner, we would but record a duplication. In the main, except as to minor details and the fact that this dinner was a family gathering the two installments were not rivalry but similarity.

Western time being two hours later we had finished dinner for two hours or more, waiting for the Western assignment to check off their menu, sing their doxology of "Finis" and cash in on the assemblage for their part of the program. We have an idea that we said it, when we said, "Cashed In."

Yes, the extended telephone message directed to an uninformed mother and many anxious substitutes was a thrill and joy to all and canned the climax of the unpresidented [sic] celebration.

Yes, we all attach special significance to birthdays of seventy or over; especially when we remember that the "Good Book" pauses long enough to remind us, in our March of years, that: "We are strangers before God and sojourners, as were our father: Our days on earth are as a shadow, and there is none abiding." [1 Chronicles 29:15] And the psalmist says:

"The days of our years are threescore years and ten, and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labor and sorrow, for it is soon cut off, and we fly away." [Psalm 90:10]

Attesting to the truth of these words, from observation and experience, we can but be submissive to the facts, both parents and kin, and add greater significance to birth-days of seventy and more years, than we did in the earlier part of our life when the pendulum of time set and counted fewer milestones on the highway of our life.

The only son [Arthur William Westphal], cognizant [sic] of, and appreciating time's import and warning of a mother's [Magdelena (Ella) D Wittmer Westphal] birth-day at "threescore years and ten," but being far away, planned to in some way, add his share to the family celebration.

And he surely did. Sending his voice, heart and love on a mission over the mystic wires, he entered the home, where were assembled parents and kin and there, for eight minutes held sway and was the center of joy and attraction of a mother's heart; the thrill of all; and formed the climax of the celebration.

ECHOES FROM A DISTANT VOICE.

From out the Westland near the sea, There came a message full of glee; A familiar voice to cheer a heart, That's uppermost of him a part. "It's a call for mother," the announcer said, Quick to the phone her feet she lead; "Said Hello? Oh, Art! I did not know that you are near? Your voice true fills my heart with cheer! Come over right away! and join our throng, My depth of love for you is strong; We are all here, just you I miss, I've saved for you a fondled kiss." "I'm far from you: my cherish heart; But of my love you are a part; In spirit let us raise the veil; On wings of love I'll to you sail. Tho mountains vales, distance us part, Our love gives us a noble start --- To let God's nearness whisper: "sail;" Above the shadows of life's veil. Dear heart, these are my wishes true: May many more birth-days come to you --- Your heart, midst kind and loved ones dear, Be full of sunshine and good cheer! Oh, for a picture that all could see, My love for you and your's for me; May every day throughout this year, Kin's love, in service to you be near! March fourth has long been set apart. As the day that gave your life a start; For many years we warmed our heart Since we of life, were meek a part. Four daughters and a son your love has won; In cloudy days, night's fading hours or sun; Our welfare was your aim and care; A mother's love we true did share." All had tuned in to hear your words of cheer, And mother thought thay [sic, that] you were near, For us who knew, this added to our thrill --- The echoes of your voice are with us still. Dad's turn came next. "Art this is me" "I know your voice: Just speak to me." "And this is Gladys." "Yes, dear Brother Art" I knew your voice right from the start." Dear Edna would be next in line But she could not wait, for western time --- And thus could not get the thrill and glee, of the voice from near the sea. "Hello Art: This is Florence. Oh, Mabel You seem to be so near and wide awake; I'd like to cut two slices more, of Mother's birth-day angel cake. "Yes, now it's I my sister dear; How sweet your voice; and oh, so clear!" "Art, Jean wants to say hello, to you, Then mother wants to talk anew." So mother and Art had the last say, The voice from the West then faded away. While scene's embrace we did not score, All enjoyed your treat as ne'er before. March 4th, 1932 Driftwood.

[Note about this from Sylvia: Pen Name Driftwood is J. W. Westphal, father of Art, Gladys, Edna & Florence. O.T. Driftwood was Grandpa's pen name in all the poetry he wrote. O.T. stood for Ocean Tossed (Driftwood)]

[Note: The references to West or Westland pointed to the brother Art, who lived in Los Angeles at this time. His wife's name was Mabel.]

[Questions that I (Al) have: (1) It seems like Edna attended the lunch and the dinner for her mother's birthday, but then couldn't wait around for the call from her brother Art. Do others read it that way? I am guessing that Edna and/or Jesse didn't think they could wait around until 8 or 9 pm and then drive another 1.5-2 hours afterwards? Ed was 5.5 years old, so he was likely with them. (2) Does anyone have any other poems by Driftwood? I think Sylvia had some, and I will need to check on that. This week was the first time I read this with a serious intent. Interesting.]

Published 2025-08-16.

If you find any error(s) in the text, please let me know. Thanks. Contact me with errors or comments using hibbardac@gmail. [Back to the top] [About the editor, Al]

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