#12 Thanksgiving, Hyperion Style (You know how We do it)
Ahoy, Ahoy, to all my discriminating readers out there (that means people with taste, by the way, not people from South Georgia with large linen closets). It is time, once again, for my annual Thanksgiving Extravabonanza; fun-filled and ready to please. As always, there is a Kids’ Activity Page in the back, for the youngsters, or just those young at heart. I am sorry to report that this year we have discontinued the Swimsuit Issue Insert, but for those really hard up, send a SASE to me and I will send you a picture of me in bed with a whale. The things we do for Catholic Girls…
Anyhoo, this year we have divided the selections into three sections: Political Poetry, Serious Reflection, and Offbeat Thanksgiving Gratitude. So, as you enjoy the
POLITICAL POETRY
There once was a V.P. named Gore
Who when losing, became really sore
As the days and weeks mounted
He wanted each vote recounted
He still lost-and then said “Once more!”
There once was a Governor named Bush
For quick certification he pushed
“There’s been too much exposure
We need national closure
‘Cause right now I’m ahead!” He gushed
The presidential race is deadlocked
As both candidates go off half-cocked
Bush: “I trust the people’s will.”
Gore: “There’s votes to count still”
While all over the world we are mocked
Presidential Election Hot
Presidential Election Cold
Presidential Election in the pot two weeks old
Some like it hot
Some like it cold
But no one likes Presidential Elections two weeks old!
Haiku
Albert Allen Gore Jr.
George Double “U” Bush
Is this the best we can do?
The candidates vie for votes
Each scorns the other
The election “hangs” on chad
HYPERION TURNS SERIOUS-BUT JUST FOR A MOMENT
Two days a go a friend of mine lost the person closest in the world to her. When she called me, I did not begin to know what to say. Often, when I have experienced sadness, people will tell me they “know just how I feel”. I hate that. We do not know how people feel. Even if we have had something similar happen to us, we do not know how someone else reacts to tragedy and loss, and we should not pretend we do. I sure do not know how my friend feels, and I don’t know how to make her feel better. What I did, then, was to channel my emotions into words, in an attempt to convey how sorry I was for her. It is not much, but it beats some story of how I too have suffered, which in my opinion is just selfish. So, people, if you have lost someone recently, I am profoundly sorry. I have had my share of hard-knocks lately, but I cannot fathom that. I offer you the words I offered to my friend. Know that I have you in my heart and I am thinking of you, wherever you are.
Ode to K
I cannot imagine how you must feel;
The pain and the tears, the hurt and the strife.
I cannot imagine how you will deal
With this sadness, and get on with your life.
I offer condolence, for what it is worth;
I am so sorry this happened to you.
I pray for the day when you’ll feel like mirth,
After you’ve processed what you’ve gone through.
If I had the power to make things all right,
I’d sacrifice much to return your smile;
But though it may seem there’s no end in sight,
I know you’ll recover, after awhile.
So, please do not feel you go through this alone;
There are those who care, and want your success.
For now let it be, your tears are your own,
But I share your sorrow, and wish you the best.
OFFBEAT THANKSGIVING GRATITUDE
The muted brilliance of the sunrise: the soft pinks rippling out of the dark gray matte, the pale blues hinting of the sky to come, here and there; yellows and reds and oranges peek through like flashlights under the blankets at night. All of the colors blend and bleed into one giant palette, wrapped in noble silence. Seeing the Dawn Splendor almost makes it worth being up so God-Awful early in the morning. Almost.
With apologies to my dad, here is my acrostic of THANKS:
T: Tyra Banks. ‘Nuff said.
H: Hyperion. Because, as the great poet Whitney Houston once said, the greatest love of all is loving yourself.
A: Anthropomorphical tendencies of Biblical writers. Because it’s funny to hear Jerry Falwell condemning Tellatubbies while supporting the idea of talking snakes
M: Mom. Ok, that is not how you spell this. Sorry mom, I tried. Instead, I will go with nectarines, ‘cause you can never get enough of them!
K: Kunta Kinte, my oppressed Brother. This is for everyone who has been kept down by the Man. Fight the Power, y’all.
S: Simpsons. They make every day a little more bearable. Thanks to Homer, Marge, Bart, Lisa, Maggie, and all of the rest.
I saw a bumper sticker once that read, “When all guns are outlawed, only outlaws will have guns.”
Well, I have a seasonal version of that:
When all Outlaws are Turkeyed Only
Wait, that sounded better in my head
Fade to Black
Hyperion
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