Christmas Brings Back Wonderful Memories

I got an email from our director, Melody, the other day. She said she was going through her desk drawer and ran across a diskette that contained some interesting files she thought I might use for the blog. It was poems that Hildred Lewis wrote. Hildred had been a bookmobile driver and processing clerk. Each year for the staff Christmas party, she would write a poem that chronicled the events at the library for the year.
Well, Melody was right; there was some blog material. This is a poem Hildred wrote for 1964. Maybe some of you out there reading this blog will remember a few of the good people mentioned. Hildred called this poem That Was The Year That Was 1964.

Sue Alderman was always on the run,
From early morn' 'till her full day was done.
When she took time to play,
We've never heard her say
If it's really true that blondes have more fun.
Myrtle Aycock sat at her desk all day,
And while the sun shone she made lots of hay.
No job she ever shirked,
She just sat there and worked,
Whistling while she busily typed away.
Catherine Bryant was always hurrying,
And at times she was even scurrying.
As a person she's swell, she does everything well,
And she holds a world's record for worrying!
Janet Clark donated blood, sweat and tears
To the biggest job we've tackled in years --
The moving ordeal;
For her part we feel
She deserved many loud and hearty cheers.
Vivian Cooper typed pages and pages
Without often flying into rages;
But the staff would prefer
To pin a rose on her
For her job of writing checks for their wages.
Amy Crapps was as busy as a bee,
That she's good at her job we all agree.
Each staff member feels
She should be on wheels,
And what we'd do without her we don't see.
Lucille Dunn as in past years was great,
And always did a job that was first rate.
Though she must often be
Thinking of Bruce and Lee,
On her works she seems to concentrate.

Well, that's about one-third of the poem. There are many more names to mention. The verses about friends and staff members bring back wonderful memories. And that's part of what Christmas is all about. Next time I'll tell you about Hildred's poem The Week Before Christmas 1971. It's even better. . .