Ann Leak sent this to me in an email.  She received it from Joan Holland.
Ann wrote: Joan Holland sent this very touching poem, re: the Lago
Refinery, that she saw in the newspaper, The News when she was down in Aruba in June.
I have not gotten Mr. Roland W. Peterson's permission to post the poem.  I hope that if he sees the web site he will not be upset.  If he does see the web site please either send me permission or if you rather, I will remove the poem.  I hope to hear from him. Dan Jensen
by Roland W. Peterson

We grew up next to the fence
under the "Big Flame".
We always thought that
there wee two things that would never go away
The Hooiberg and
the Big Flame in the oil refinery.
They gave us a sense of security and stability.

Then . . . then one morning when we awoke
There was no flame and no smoke
As we rubbed our eyes that morning in eighty-five
Was it real or was it just an illusion?
Yes it was real, there could be no other conclusion.

We felt hurt and betrayed
Our eternal flame had not stayed
Can't imagine our town without the flame
Then came the days of playing the game of blame.
Little did it matter to us who was to blame
All we wanted was the flame to come back
A flame above the highest stack
So there we sat, our town in black.

Then . . . one day
The big iron monsters came this way
The earth trembled as the stacks and tanks fell to the ground
Dark clouds covered this once vibrant town
We saw the streets forsaken
Anger grew as we felt that we for a ride were taken.

Then . . . one day
The lights came back this way
Look . . . look there arises a stack
Our flame . . . our flame is back.

So there it stands
high and majestic once more
Its glare again lights our town like before
A town that almost fell asleep is awakening once more.