The Long Awaited Christmas Poem


I’m not sure how many Christmas poems I have written.  All the ones I have been able to find have been posted now on Ricequips.com.  This is number 20.  The first one I could find was 1989.

Anyway, I wish I would have taken a look at last years title before I titled this one.  Last year was entitled, “Christmas in Transition – 2007.”  This year, it is entitled, “Year of Transition – 2008.”  Now, there is a clear distinction between the two, but I am afraid it is too subtle for most of my friends.

To all who read this, I wish you a very Merry Christmas.


                            
Year of Transition – 2008

The pace is easier, deadlines are few,
Jack’s fully retired, now there’s your clue.
Being home everyday makes an adjustment crunch,
Carole married him for love, but not for lunch.

January brought surgery on Carole’s bad knees,
Partial replacements on both if you please.
Carole suffered a plenty, but for Jack it was worse,
He slipped from a hot shot attorney to a practical nurse.
With the arthritis gone and physical therapy complete,
Carole buzzes around and doesn’t miss a beat.

RAJA in May, in Atlanta downtown,
Seeing dear friends, never a frown.
Saw the Coke Museum, saw Olympic Park,
Put a blog on Ricequips, it really was a lark.

We toured California, a long time “want to do,”
We started in Frisco, ended at San Diego’s Zoo.
From Golden Gate to Yosemite, Hearst Castle to Monterey pier,
Scary fog at Big Sur, but LA was bright and clear.

June was a disaster, we flooded the house,
A water hose busted, it’s no use to grouse.
Gone for three hours and the damage was done,
Hard wood and ceilings, you talk about fun.
But with our contractor Steve, and a month in jail,
The house came together, we survived the travail.

We count among our blessings, our Moms who bring us glee,
Blanche is ninety-one and Mary is ninety-three!
They won’t win any races, the years have taken their toll,
But their minds are really sharp, and the humor, yes, it’s droll.

The kids are all busy with their lives and stuff,
The problem we have is we don’t see them enough.
Paul and Sandy are close, just four hours away,
We get to see them come a holiday.
Missy helped Carole, at the first of the year,
Now Missy is hurting, a truck hit them in the rear.
She continues to work and deals with the pain,
With doctor’s support, they’ll remove the strain.

Becky and Eddie are now empty nest,
The boys are in college, giving their best.
Grant and Brandon in college, soon there’ll be more,
With Tyler and Josh, next year there’ll be four.
That means Kristin and Jack will soon get a boost,
They’ll be the only kids home and they’ll rule the roost.

Nikki’s a year and a half, she’s a precious creature,
She minds remarkably well, she listens to her teacher.
So we’re letting her sign off, she’s doing in right now,
Merry Christmas to everyone and a special bow-wow.

Northwestern University – A Year of Dissent


What a year for an Army lawyer to attend civilian schooling.  It was June 1969, in the middle of the Vietnam War, and I was delighted with my decision to go to Northwestern to get a masters degree in criminal law.*  It turned out my delight was short lived.

The students, the faculty and probably the janitorial service were strongly opposed to the Vietnam War.  I must say that a small group of faculty and graduate students that I worked with treated me well.  I was the only one on campus with short hair and, ironically, one of the few students who wasn’t wearing an Army fatigue jacket.  There was a Federal law prohibiting the unauthorized wearing of military uniforms or pieces thereof.  I mentioned it to a student one day and a professor overheard me and wanted to know why I had this deep-seated anger.  Wow!  I thought I was on my best behavior.  Ripping the jacket off and throwing the kid out in the snow might constitute deep-seated anger.

Most of the student body was involved in draft avoidance counseling.  I have to admit, it was not a good time to be a 19 or 20 year-old male.  A young female student came up to me bubbling with excitement.  It seems her family had found a doctor who was willing to certify that her brother was medically disqualified to be drafted.  I don’t think she selected me out.  I think she was telling everyone she saw.

This was the era when young women didn’t wear bras.  I’m very observant.  But, dammed if they didn’t walk around with their notebooks or purses pressed to their chests.  Now, what kind of statement does that make?  I don’t think it’s very enlightened.

I was asked during my second semester to participate in a moot court trial.  They needed someone to play the arresting officer in a drug sale trial.  I agreed to do it.  The moot court was held in a class room and when I entered to testify, the students in the back of the room started hissing and booing.  Not very professional.  The professor was playing the judge and he did nothing to stop the nonsense.  The facts were bad for the government and when the “judge” ruled that it was a bad search and the evidence was suppressed, everyone in the classroom cheered.

Northwestern had a world class criminal law department.  As a graduate student in that department, I knew all the criminal law professors.  None was teaching this class.  After I testified and while seated in the back of the room, I asked one of the hecklers what class it was.  He said, “It’s Poverty Law.”  I asked him why they were doing criminal law.  He said, “Hey man, lots of poor people get busted on bogus drug charges.”  So, I had my answer.  They could study whatever they wanted, as long as it happened to poor people.  I guess that ruled out Trusts and Estates.

On April 29, 1970, US Forces entered Cambodia where the North Vietnamese and the Viet Cong had been stockpiling arsenals for their next offensive.  Northwestern, along with most colleges shut down in protest.  A lot of students were able to avoid final exams while the protests drug on.  I was a direct beneficiary of the Cambodian Campaign because my next assignment was Vietnam and I wasn’t located that far from the border.  Shame on the US for entering a “neutral” country and destroying tons and tons of ammunition which belonged to the peace loving North Vietnamese.  If we hadn’t, I might not be writing this.

While I went to school on the downtown campus, we actually lived in Evanston, just a few blocks from the University.  The street that ran along side the University was Sheridan Road.  During the Cambodian protests, students tore down property and piled it in Sheridan Road blocking traffic.  The police did nothing to remove the blockade.  However, when an irate citizen stopped his car and tried to remove some of the blockade, he was arrested for creating a disturbance!  It was not a good year.

Periodically, I receive a phone call from someone at Northwestern asking for money.  After about 20 minutes of me telling them about my Northwestern experience, they just want to get off the phone.


* See “Long Distance Decision Making Before the Internet.”


 

Old Fuds and Older Fuds


I think it was last October when I wrote about the Old Fuds (retired Army JAGs) and the fact that we met for lunch twice a year.  I also mentioned we had to climb to the third floor (no elevator) to get to the luncheon.

I am sure that the lack of an elevator violates the Americans with Disabilities Act, but if the Old Fuds complained and got the place shut down, then the Old Fuds would have to find somewhere else to eat.  Most Old Fuds are happy with the food and that would wreck havoc with our carefully monitored empty agenda.  The only vote we have had in the last six months was a voice vote to elect Howard Bushman assistant secretary.  He was elected, but the vote was close.  The request for a show of hands was summarily rejected by Don Deline, the self-appointed president-for-life.


Some of our elderly members had missed a couple of luncheons and Howard Bushman, assistant secretary (probably-for-life), came up with the idea of taking an Old Fuds luncheon to them.  Four of the Old Fuds live at the Fairfax, which is an extremely nice retirement community located at Fort Belvoir, Virginia.  So the luncheon was set up

Jim Macklin, Bill Fulton, Dave Bryant and Henry Cabell are the four Old Fuds who live at the Fairfax.  A small group of Old Fuds met them yesterday at the Fairfax for a most delightful lunch and gathering.  John Naughton, an Old Fud with some official capacity at the Fairfax, was handing out brochures.  Later, I explained to them that I was originally from Illinois and if we could raise enough money, I might be the next senator for that great state.  No takers.

The morning of the luncheon, I thought it might be nice to write a short poem to commemorate the occasion.  It had to be short because I only had an hour.  Below is my best effort under the time constraints.

                                    
                                          Old Fuds and Older Fuds

We do it twice a year, we put on our clean duds,
We meet at Tony Cheng’s, a gathering of Old Fuds.
We’re retired Army JAGs, we’re ever so proud
When Old Fuds gather there’s always a crowd.

But to go downtown and climb stairs galore,
It’s a difficult task just to reach the floor.
So we’re doing it differently, to everyone’s elation,
We’re going to the Fairfax, we’ve moved the location.

A much smaller group, we’ll chat and we’ll smile,
Fond memories remembered, now that’s our style.
So Cheng’s and the Fairfax, two locations to cheer,
We’ve had a great time, can’t wait till next year.