[Congressional Record Volume 146, Number 33 (Wednesday, March 22, 2000)]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Page E377]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]


                       HONORING THOMAS R. CAFFREY

                                 ______
                                 

                            HON. JIM SAXTON

                             of new jersey

                    in the house of representatives

                       Wednesday, March 22, 2000

  Mr. SAXTON. Mr. Speaker, today I rise to congratulate Mr. Thomas R. 
Caffrey of Tuckerton, NJ. Mr. Caffrey was a first prize winner in C-
SPAN's American Presidents: Life Portraits Viewers' Contest. Mr. 
Caffrey's poem on President John Adams is worthy of high praise.
  President Adams served as our second President from 1797 to 1801. 
President Adams, as one of our Nation's Founding Fathers helped shape a 
newly formed nation with his intellect and vigor. His personal 
correspondence with Thomas Jefferson have delighted scholars for years 
as they provide a personal glimpse of these two very important 
Presidents. Mr. Caffrey's poem encapsulates the life and times of 
President Adams.
  I enter into the Record Mr. Caffrey's poem, ``Our Dearest Friend''.

                         ``Our Dearest Friend''


                         (A poem of John Adams)

                         (By Thomas R. Caffrey)

     From Puritan seed a seminal birth to Ancient, he was for the 
           ages.
     A blend of the heavens and merciless Earth To a man needing 
           many assuages

     The genesis of this patriot as Founder will yet be revealed.
     Portending rejection of British flat his fate about to be 
           sealed.

     So stubborn affixing himself to the law in defense of the 
           British who fired.
     Yes justice was blind and everyone saw that murder had not 
           transpired.

     While sufferings mixed with physical his angst was most 
           profound.
     So loving his country, he's practical; can America make it 
           uncrowned?

     A man in the midst of Freedom's vortex imploring the thirteen 
           to one.
     The lover of laws because they protect and make `That Chair' 
           a rising sun.

     Declaring their freedom with principles inspiring Jefferson's 
           pen.
     The Wordsmith's text would soon convulse all parties, 
           including them.

     Though stunned by the Lion's thundering roar, some cowed by 
           fear of this mother.
     Undaunted courage he'd force to the show, a rally for most of 
           the others.

     Prevailing at Yorktown made him celebrate, Conquest! On his 
           date of birth!
     Yet sober he was knowing full well his station, the Treaty 
           would reflect his worth.

     In Europe he felt the growing unease of absence from 
           `Portia'.--his `Friend'.
     He often would stir for his quick release, when will this 
           humility end?

     The tenuous peace was forged with his mettle, in Paris the 
           year '83.
     The subsequent years would provoke much nettle. In Britain he 
           yearned to be free.

     Soon after he mixed into dear Quincy's soil, a call came for 
           services, more.
     For eight years his self-doubt would burden the toil. `It's 
           hopeless', he'd like to implore.

     Before him the Giant of Mount Vernon, the deified A Priori.
     In whose shadow he often fell striving for his own glory.

     Leading was harder than Founding, it seemed. Not service but 
           politics he loathed.
     Betrayals were bad, from Jefferson worse, impossible when 
           they were betrothed.

     A premature move back home was his fate, no destiny to be a 
           two-term.
     Oft' ringing his hands and imploring his mate, his worth 
           would she please affirm?

     He passed many by on the farm at Peacefield, to dust they 
           went, compost for life.
     As his time drew near, posterity sealed, he relented, and 
           thus joined his wife.

     Today we think mainly of First and of Third, on Rushmore and 
           our currency.
     Remember Our Friend, a man of his word, whose heartsleeve was 
           for you and me.

           

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