Patricia M. (1959-2005)

  

A six foot farm girl from Clayton County,

she was steered by ambitious older siblings

and grew up immersed in duty;

whether chores, basketball or studies,

she was a person who took careful notes,

considered each detail from both ends

and aimed to correct every error.

As an earnest trainee at our office,

too modest to recognize her own gifts

and entirely unaware of her beauty,

she was everyone’s favorite apprentice,

guided by surrogate brothers and sisters,

though the office aunties had no help

as several long term romances fizzled.

Her approach to the job was pure Iowa,

careful stewardship and steady yields,

but her results got little notice,

and when the avalanche of layoffs came,

revealing her name on the wrong list,

Patty called it a blessing and a new start,

and set off for a future in the Cities.

In due time there was a wedding,

her groom gamely bearing the scrutiny

of her protecting host of family and admirers.

Each year the cards and messages arrived

from the woman who never forgot her friends;

then suddenly, it was that July afternoon,

the secret treason of a damaged heart,

and what remained was grief.

Francis X. O’Reilly

IBM Branch Office 097, 1975

Our sales team leader was six foot leprechaun

with blue eyes, white hair and a red nose,

whose idea of customer entertainment

leaned to scotch and stag movies,

but observed certain fixed principles.

His jacket was never unbuttoned

and he never left the office without his hat.

However, FX was rarely away from his desk.

He did the planning and we did the work,

his name never attached to any assigned duty.

Wagging a piece of chalk like a baton,

he directed the weekly review meeting,

bemoaning the fate of his excellent strategies

in the hands of such a clumsy bunch.

In good years, befitting his rank,

he was equipped with an acolyte or two,

and fist wrapped around the receiver,

he would repeat the answers out loud

while one of us took detailed notes.

In leaner times, dignity had to be shelved,

and he would reluctantly search for a pencil.

Francis hated efficiency and measurements,

an excuse to hire accountants,

those parasites on the body corporate,

and counseled us that management and clients

had little (if any) need to know.

He believed in the founding gospel of Watson,

the magic combination of sales and man,

and never wavered, a proud fossil to the end.

(A memory of the early days in my 34 years at IBM)  

The Reindeer

The reindeer live among the Lapps,

way far up north, beyond our maps;

and near the pole, around the globe

are found the lands for their abode;

though in Canada, it’s true—

their name is changed to caribou.

They’re built to last through winter’s season—

for that thick fur, there is a reason:

the reindeer manage ice and snows—

they even have a furry nose--

but by March perhaps they’re cross

after months of eating moss!

I know you think I am a tease—

but people make a reindeer cheese:

some beasts are wild and pull no plows--

others tame and milked like cows;

but their big job, it could be said—

is when they’re pulling Santa’s sled!

The Wasp

Imagine the fuming and the fuss

when a wasp was trapped on the bus:

everyone would start to panic

at the thought of stingers titanic!

Because these guys are rough and tough

we put their name on lots of stuff—

from sporting teams and motor cars

to navy planes and cheap cigars!

I must, though, pass on this zinger—

most wasps do not have a stinger!

Some are single and like to roam

but social wasps can build a home,

a place where they are pleased to stay--

ruled by queens they must obey.

At killing pests they are the tops:

they help us save our valued crops,

and since they eat those nasty bugs,

let’s give these wasps some great big hugs!

Easter Week in Pennsylvania

In the high near summer heat

the anemones quickly disappeared,

and though spring and April

were barely under way,

we built castles in the sand,

picked small boy bouquets

of dandelions and violets,

and saw lilacs ready to bloom.

How wide the world had become!

We could not believe its arch,

how much there was to see

of blue and green wonder:

a Carolina wren sang all day,

the woodpecker tapped his notes,

and all of us, the young and old,

joined in the ancient round. 

The Horse

The very first horse, if you please,

would have only  reached my knees--

and it was only ages later

that horses got to be much greater!

It must have taken someone fervent

to make the horse into a servant:

I have no doubt the horse resisted

before he agreed-- to be enlisted!

For centuries the horse complied,

did all the chores and let us ride--

they could pull a plow or a cart,

and did each task with lots of heart.

Today their jobs are just a few,

there’s not much work for them to do,

but still we love their strength and grace—

for them we’ll make a special place,

and carry on that close relation

which defies all explanation.

Frogs

Frogs, we know, are like the otter:

sometimes on land, sometimes in water.

(The word to use is amphibious,

but today that seems far too serious!)

These beasts have never met a pond

of which they were not very fond:

after they hatch, they live in the drink—

they swim like fish and will not sink!

We call these babes the polliwogs,

and til they graduate as frogs,

they use their gills instead of lungs--

and have not grown those great big tongues;

which help a lot, we shall surmise,

to catch a lunch of tasty flies!

The smaller frogs will make a peep,

while bull frogs have a croak that’s deep;

and unlike you, I think the frog

would say that heaven is a bog!