I'd like to "Thank" each of you for making this one of the brightest years I can remember.  It's hard to express the amount of joy and fulfillment you bring me by sharing these stories and letters.  I find myself checking Email three times daily waiting for the latest lesson in Helle pride & poetry.

I regret more than I can say for not knowing your faces, the names?

Well those are all clear, 

I knew you as relatives, those that would be dear. 

As a kid I loved listening to the stories be told, 

the excitement inside, as kids we couldn't hold.

Grandma, Aunt Marilyn, Uncle Terry and Dad,

Sitting around gossiping, "Who could be sad?"

Aunt Marilyn's photo albums stood four feet high,

we knew the stories were true, by the look in their eye.

With coffee in hand and plate under pie,

each year the stories grew taller, unbelievably high.

The artistry of story telling is a trait that runs deep,

without this gift, most Helle's couldn't speak.

Is this gift is a hereditary gene?

Passed on to the next generation? It's yet to be seen.

If this trait we both do share,

We have more in common, do you care to dare?

I'll bet you're passionate in whatever you do,

Are you left-handed? You guessed it, yep me too.

My heart swells with pride at the sound of my last name,

You know what? Yours sounds the same.

Cruelty for a child with the last name that rhymes,

Smelly, belly, pickle jelly a thousand times.

But this cross we've all come to bare,

Still standing tall, like a stallion or mare.

Passionate, stubborn and left-handed too,

I'm proud to be a Helle, to be just like you.

This fire inside that burns so deep,

is a legacy I hope my children will keep.

No I'm not perfect; rather far from it,

although I keep trying to reach, this fatherly summit.

I had a fine example of a Helle for a father,

Kenneth Roy Helle missing him, I still get bothered.

Thinking of him and missing him near,

I can't seem to stop my eyes from swelling with tears.

To trade in my childhood for an easier life? Never!

It was hard then, but now I'm wiser & clever.

If you want the job done right, then do it yourself,

There were time I didn't measure-up, felt like an elf.

Respect, passion and work ethic he did instill,

On this day, not many could fill.

I'm proud to have finely measured-up & make the grade,

one things for certain, no Helle rest under the shade.

Into adult life and overseas I have stayed,

Never forgetting the summers walking the fields and bailing hay.

If my poem seems a little rough,

I haven't done this since sixth grade, "it pretty tough".

So towards then end of this millennium I must say,

I love you all and have a Happy Y2K.

Don Charles Helle