Odes
New Years Eve , 1999
‘Twas the night before New Years, and on Gilbert Street
Clocks with chimes struck eight times as old friends came to meet.
Out strode Becky and Jerry, the hostess and host;
Johnny Mercer’s tunes wafted through pillar and post.
They met Marty and Jim (so distinguished they looked)
Who--ta da!--brought beef wellington, perfectly cooked.
They hugged Mary Beth, her arms laden with cheeses;
Baylus brought his book, “Y2K Spies Find Jesus.”
And Patti brought Nils, both her date and chauffeur.
Would he drive into Austin? Could he? Just ask her!
By now Ivy’s come with a guy in a skirt!
Oh come on, Bill! A breeze shows those knees! My eyes hurt!
Cap’n Freddie Mike’s last, with champagne and Eileen,
Who keeps scribbling and mutt’ring, “Now what rhymes with spleen?”
All around, Austin town is set up for a party
As two hundred thousand souls plan to play hearty
With Lyell and Cheryl and James Earl on stages.
They gather on Sixth Street, on Congress, splurge wages
On beer and tequila, good seats near the band,
And the poorer ones wait for the fireworks, and stand
Near the cops on their ‘cycles and horses and bikes
And they thread past the taxis with kids, dogs and trikes.
Leslie’s beard has been brushed, and his thong gleams lamé
He’s invested in new red high heels for the day.
George Dubya and Laura are toasting with coke,
Hoping other GOP contenders go broke.
Lady Bird and Jake Pickle, once Queen and Crown Prince,
May watch on TV. At their age, that makes sense.
And maybe their cohorts will toast in a bar
Wond’ring where all the yellow dog Democrats are.
Far across the Pacific, an ocean away,
Dark-haired islanders danced all milennium day,
And as the sun rose, and God’s hand turned the earth,
Songs and prayers rose on high in new hopes of rebirth.
Ferris wheels on the Thames, cannon blasts o’er the sea,
Shotguns fired to the sky and this poor poetry,
All are pledges of love and sweet cooperation;
Brotherhood’s reigning from nation to nation.
But Pakistan still feels that India’s no good,
And Irish religion’s not out of the wood.
Molly Ivins fights cancer, the Chechnyns fight Reds;
In Africa, AIDS fills the graveyards and beds.
There’s wet Venezuela and dried out Sudan,
No car keys for Saudis (unless you’re a man).
So the bottom line is, as the new day grows near,
We will do what we can, and we’re glad to be here.
Drink to Boris and Bill, even Jesse and Newt,
A clean slate might change any horse’s patoot!
We have friendship and health, and a taste of the bubbly.
Here’s to life! Here’s to love! Here’s to US! Ain’t we lubbly???
Eileen Pestorius wrote this ode, her millennial attempt, double-urged by Patti Hall. 12/31/99. And Bill, I didn’t know you would be there, but now you’re included for posterity too! Also our helpful lady of the kitchen. Cheers and thanks to everybody for such a wonderful night!-----------------------------------------------
The importance of having friends in high places
Shannon took a lesson on Alta's mighty mount--
Joined travelers from around the world not wanting to ski no-account.
She swirled and twirled, skis parallel, unweighting merrily.
"I love this skiing stuff so much!" she chortled, full of glee.
All things must end, the saying goes, including Rockies scenes.
Her last full day of skiing dawned on Alta's blacks and blues and greens.
At one o'clock at Albion, she found old Austin chums
Met Eileen, Don, and Mike for lunch where everybody comes.
Jackie and Sue Ann finished lunch. "We'll ski tame stuff!" their cry.
So Shannon joined her visitors from Park City nearby.
"We'll just ski blues, the new friends said. Today's so wet and crusty."
But did they keep their word, those friends? Oh no, they got to feeling lusty.
The Albion lift took them straight up. They said, "This is OK,
But Sugarloaf goes to the skies. What say we try it, hey?"
The Devil's Elbow runs up there, and Razor Back also.
The skiers turned their backs on those, as Alta's wind did blow.
As upward in the chair they climbed, they spied Mt. Baldy's shoulder.
"Amen's a timid black!" They cried. "That bowl will ski much bolder!"
But how to get there? It was far! They spied a narrow track.
They bumped along the narrow ruts, and never once looked back.
Then down they flew, into that bowl, mid snowy moguls all.
Amazing! Down those awesome bumps, triumphant, with nary a fall.
Their confidence was mighty high, beneath gray cloudy skies.
"Let's do it once again! This time, that mount we'll pulverize!"
Mike peeled off first because he found a steep and deep bump run.
Eileen and Shannon looked ahead. Less steep, they thought, would be more fun.
They followed Don along the cliff. They hugged a mighty rock.
Just traverse a few more yards and then the run would be a lock.
Those last few yards pass just above a brown and red stone cliff.
Oh shit! The thought flew through their heads. This place could scare me stiff!
Eileen and Don lurched toward the bowl, but Shannon's ski, it tripped.
Oh no! She fell. Despite her tries, down toward the rock she slipped.
She couldn't move forward or back! The cliff fell off below.
It seemed no matter how she moved, she slid down on the snow!
The jagged rock offered no place where she could set a ski.
If she but slid another foot, she'd face eternity!
Her friends were gaping helplessly. How could they Shannon aid?
Oh God! One skier sped right past, and Shannon was afraid!
But look! A shining knight in nylon came and somehow thrust a pole.
He offered some security to Shannon’s body--and her soul.
She struggled to pull one ski off, and planned to reach the other,
But then, from up on that high cliff, dropped Shannon and--oh brother!
Down, down she flew. Her skis flew too, all mixed amidst her poles.
Three hundred feet of avalanche she made with all her snowy rolls.
The knight and friends skied close to see. Had life's book closed the page?
Not so! Survival fear had left. She checked her cute new savior's age!
Shannon, smiling, then announced she wasn't hurt, just shaken.
Then, like a trouper, she made sure another run was taken.
The lesson from this scary tale is drunk from wisdom's cup:
"It's not how many times you fall, but how you get back up."
Ode by Eileen McGee Pestorius