By John Trice
The Norman Transcript
NORMAN — The time has come for my year-end review,
When I rhyme a sum of words just for you.
The year’s norms? Some were nice, but then some were mean.
We’d fear storms, incur lice in 2013.
And this thing: sequester? I’ll pass that knowledge down,
During spring semester from our college town.
Around the middle of the spring semester,
Found out a little about this thing sequester,
Politicians on display with their graphic power.
Have suspicions of no pay in my air traffic tower.
What I would fear to hear and what this could spawn
Was that my dear career could very soon be gone.
Long ago it was said that an Indian chief
Saw strong winds blow, so he pled to God in his grief
For no more tornadoes. Can’t afford in our city.
Please send us some halos. Oh Lord. Please take pity.
And since that chief looked up to the sky that day,
The Norman belief was twisters would fly far away.
Several years went by ’til May of ’99,
Norman’s fears got high, for here came the “dry line.”
The spinning of the cloud above which often follows
In the beginning, then grows loud enough as it swallows
The debris in its belly which is churning like hell
Was gonna be like jelly in the turning carousel.
Toward Norman, it steered forth from I-44.
But that storm? It veered north and hit poor Moore.
And now this year? We’d see the path, what a shame.
And how so eerily the swath was the same.
Like the sound of some trains from the EF-5’s fury
Hit the ground like a plane’s bombs dropped in a flurry.
What this “scar cone” left behind looked really scary,
Like a war zone, so unkind to Moore on the prairie.
The storm was near and devastation deemed massive.
It was clear that this nation would not remain passive.
Though the town of Moore wept, was dreading what they would fear,
Many and I got swept into heading to volunteer.
First went to Sam’s, ’twas the rage to buy babies lots,
Saw sirs and ma’ams also my age buying for tots.
Then I went to give aid to the folks near in Moore,
To a tent that was made like a grocery store.
Stocked shelves with canned goods like I’d done long ago.
With others elves, we manned foods. Felt right, don’t you know.
On one summer morning, I’m not yet out of bed
When wife comes in warning, “Oh. This hair net on my head?”
“What’s that?” I’d say. “Didn’t catch what you said,”
Wiping sleep away, then I’d scratch my head.
She’d brought home from her work a louse and some lice,
They may roam, they may lurk in the house of Trice.
I traveled from my home where a nurse would inspect
With a nit-picking comb for this curséd insect.
She was sure it displayed a nit on a follicle.
So furniture got sprayed. We hit every molecule
Of nice bed, hats and sheet, then a phase in quarantine.
Are lice dead? That’s complete? What a crazy war I’d seen.
The high school reunion class of ’72 was dear,
At my school we had June fun that was through last year.
Since some ’73s came to party with,
Could I come, if I please, to their 40th?
From Facebook, how old grads in early November,
How the place shook. Was so glad. I’ll surely remember.
Our son, Kevin, is teaching, but says his delight
At 27 is reaching his goal to write.
Andy is employed at his restaurant store.
His job he’s enjoyed. How could we want more?
Suzanne still nurses and with me at Westheimer,
Hope with these verses I can be the best rhymer.
We pause … anticipation. That’s all that this was.
Because soon in this nation, hats off, it’s Christmas.
So I suppose it goes, we’re meeting year’s end.
Why I choose to close with this greeting to send?
The very reason, I say, let me state. You hear?
Have a merry season. OK? And a great New Year.
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