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.
As I reflect and harp on things which occurred, I detect some were sharp while others were blurred.
So before we store this year on the shelf, let’s explore once more: Here is 2012.
What a football team were the Tigers of LSU, and it would all seem the title would be theirs, too. But they lost. The other side made us fall. Oh, the cost. The Crimson Tide played better ball. Then on the West Coast, playoffs Saints did not win. So our fans can’t boast, the complaints did begin.
In early May, our niece, who had long been ill, passed away, rest in peace. We all miss her still. Made the long drive for one purpose and took my wife. We did strive to make the service to honor her life. Once there, saw flowers by her, some tethered above, that’s where those were ours that Heather would love.
We’d grieve, then begin in our minivan to leave for our inn for some sleep if we can. Once there, I would park without much thought, where in the dark it turned out where I sought was way under a tree, then the next morn’s hours, that day’s wonder to see? All these adorned flowers.
All over the van they graced the hood, called my wife, Suzanne, for I understood that ere that day, blooms near Heather were ours. But there’s God’s way. They put together these flowers. Suzanne, in her grief, thought my tale not to be true. But it’s my belief. God, Heather and me? We knew.
Drove down there again. Why? To have some June fun, the town where had been my high school reunion, thought back over these four decades ago. Brought back memories, how it fades, their glow. So it was great once again to brighten their light. But what my fate might have been at a frightening sight.
Son’s small car and I, the interstate to Dallas, would drive far. Make it home by 8 o’clock at my place? Wet ahead, but no rain, doing 75, not to dread this left lane, now just glad I’m alive. Slow overtake, Chevy (right lane) pickup, made me quake at the sight of his hiccup.
His hydroplane, now sideways, was a so clear to see, in my lane on this highway. The end of dear ole me? Swerve right in a spin? Or do I go left in the grass? Nervous fright made me begin to think this was my —. For God’s sakes.
Nowhere to go. Don’t mean to sound graphic. Hit the brakes. Don’t dare head for opposite-bound traffic.
So I would collide, we’d slide, but what a shock. Good luck. On his left wheel side, we’d glide like a hockey puck.
Like a tug mated to a barge, but so much faster, I had straightened his truck large, now, no such disaster. He’s OK now, but how I’d slide left down the grass, Hell to pay. Pow. Pow. Collide with posts en masse.
Then the ricochet, but I kept the wheel straight, slowed, made my way, crept atop the interstate. This ordeal did end, I would manage to survive. I would heal. I would mend. It’s good to be alive. Sore back strain was my only hurt factor. Lower back pain treated by my chiropractor.
Christ Stevens slain by Muslim hoods in Benghazi. Disbelievin’ Tyrone Woods turned kamikaze. If I can in this verse, I will try not to preach. Wife Suzanne still a nurse, son Kevin still does teach. Son Andy’s (ice cream) employed. I see planes at Westheimer. Hope my theme you’ve enjoyed, my refrains to be 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 chose 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.
For local news and more, subscribe to The Norman Transcript Smart Edition, or our print edition.