The Chair

The Chair

I discovered recently that I have a not-so-secret admirer. The outgoing President of the MIT Club became aware of my blog. And, to my surprise and delight, read far enough back into my archives to discover that he likes my poetry.

Who wouldn’t be flattered?

Soon after, I was honored with the opportunity to pen a poem for his retirement from the MIT Club of NE Ohio.

Flattery will get you everywhere – or, at very least, it will get you a poem.

This ‘pro-bono’ work (as if I have ever been paid for a poem) was well received at the MIT luncheon today.

His wife Joy, who heard the poem in advance, brought his chair to the luncheon. He sat upon his actual chair to listen to his poem.

Without further adieu -


The Chair
By MIT Mommy, with due respects to Edgar Allen Poe

Once upon a midnight dreary, with his eyes bloodshot and bleary.
Joe studied Aero-Astro in his Phi Beta Epsilon lair.
It was Seventy in the Spring – so anxious for what life would bring,
Looking forward to chase his dreams, MIT years - his best nightmare.
Soon would be his graduation, eyes face forward celebration.
The gift of knowledge – and a chair.

He wed his Joy he loved the most, lived in cities from coast to coast,
Soon he would have more to boast – his household grows beyond a pair.
Children must be always going, parents busy watch them growing.
Keeping home fires ever glowing, blowing laughter into the air.
These bless’d parents ever knowing, at family table room to spare.
Sit with me here upon my chair.

Joe’s family makes Cleveland home, for many years he wouldn’t roam
Too far as our MIT Club learned the talents that he could share.
A decade he was on the Board, the Club asked if he could afford,
To lead the MIT Club, or if it was too much time to share.
A Club’s success is very rare, without a leader for its care.
Seven years more, he earned his chair.

Joe’s MIT preparation matched with honest dedication
Furth’red students’ education at those Heights Schools near Shaker Square.
Joe’s hard work was sensational, directing Educational
Council for the Region – with MIT caliber savoir faire.
A Morgan Award only fair, your achievements it does declare.
No time to rest upon that chair.

Joe’s next stop will be New Hampshire, once again to tend the home fire.
They proceed ahead as a pair to keep her mother in their care.
Moving forward, never grieving, many items they are leaving
Who needs things when you’re believing, sailing forth through your life with flair.
They leave behind their cozy lair. All he will need when he gets there -
Heart full of mem’ries and a chair.

A year from now, he’ll leave the shore, braving seas the world to explore.
Safety first we do implore, we wish your skies are ever fair.
We wish our best to this fine couple, now his Joy is truly double,
It may seem simple, little trouble, yet such a duo seems so rare.
A great adventure they will share and once completed return to where,
He leaves behind his lonely chair.

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My Family (to the Brady Bunch tune)

Here’s a story, of a man named Marvin
Who had married the true love of his life.
They met one day in California and soon she’d be his wife.

Here’s the story of a girl named Mary
She was born beyond the West Coast,
They’d have three kids, they love so much, but love their grandkids most.

Their first-born was a brunette beauty,
She was as perfect as a first-born can be,
And even better, that Air Force hospital, barely charged a fee.

Then the one-day that first girl met this fellow,
He was ambitious, athletic, and nice
They went on to have a sweet girl, then got lucky twice.

Their next kid was a tall boy,
He was so smart they knew he’d go far,
Then after his first degree, he even passed the Bar.

Then that next boy met a fine girl,
An engineer who can manage and teach,
Then came two new grandkids, they’d have one of each.

Their last baby was a blondie,
She’d study and run off to Japan,
But she’d come back to be a mommy, after she found her man.

That last babe found a good one,
A finance guy as sharp as can be,
They’d have a boy and then a girl too, then a boy makes three.

I wrote this about an hour ago for my dad's birthday. I decided to start a family blog for him. Its not the best poem, but it comes with lots of love. What does one get for a father?