Untitled [Poem]
Editor's Note: This poem hung on the wall in my father's study in my childhood home. It was written to my dad by a group of his Southwestern University students in 1965. There is an illustration on the poster board which is signed by the participants of the project. However, I do not know who the author of the poem is or who illustrated it. Clearly, my dad had an impact on these students. I remember reading this poem from time to time while up in that study during my childhood and thinking about how cool my dad must have been to his students and of what a fun bunch these seniors must have been. I always imagine what they might have gone on to do in life after graduating from Southwestern. Now, 47 years later, I am in possession of this precious little token of my dad's legacy as a teacher. My mom gave it to me earlier this year. Today is a day that I spend each year reflecting about my dad and I thought that sharing this poem would be a great way to honor his memory.
"Help me! Helpme! Help," they cried,7 "Douglings" all in tears."Lest your problems stay for yearsLittle 'Douglings,' come inside -With me and Rogers to reside."Here we'll come to grips with you;50 minutes in which to brew.When the bell - it does ring'an' all tha' sorta thing,'Off to the SUB we will race,Ending -we hope- not flat of face.Over coffee we do sipWhile of the book he will quip.When the laymen's stares grow strong-Out and Down to a game of ping pong.From the Seniors of '65,To the guy who makes us "alive."By Unknown, Circa 1965
