Hi everyone,

If I’ve posted this one before, it has been a while. In 1979, Drury honored Sandy with a “Distinguished Alumni Award.” Three such awards were presented at a large dinner celebration. Each recipient was introduced by a speaker, who was given three minutes. Each recipient was allowed five minutes to give his/her acceptance remarks. Eight minutes times three equals twenty-four minutes plus trips to and from the microphone. Very nice program.
In 1981, I received the same award, and the rules hadn’t changed. Twenty-four minutes, shuffle shuffle, and home early enough to watch the news.
In 1982, from a sense of duty, we attended the banquet and took seats toward the back of the room. When award time arrived, the first introducer spoke for fifteen minutes about the endless merits of his champion. Said champ expressed his gratitude in a few well chosen words that went on more than twenty minutes. Ditto the second duo. Ditto the third. I had plenty of time to wish I had stopped after two cups of coffee and skipped the water. President John Moore, stuck on stage like a pinned butterfly, did a remarkable job of looking engaged, but I harbored suspicions that his thoughts might be elsewhere.
To while away the light-years, I started making up a poem in my head. Later, much later, at home I drafted what I had, and in the next day or so I sent the finished poem to Dr. Moore. Here it is, told as though borrowed from the thoughts of the good Dr. Moore himself.
HEAD TABLE SOLILOQUY
By David L. Harrison
We gave the floor
To this crushing bore
And asked him to address us.
Long ago his time was gone
Yet he blathers on and on
Determined to impress us.
My hair was brown
When I sat down
To hear this bilious blow.
Now it’s gray and I’ve no doubt
That which hasn’t withered out
Is turning white as snow.
My beard was spare
When I took a chair
To listen to him spew.
Now it’s curling in my lap,
Everybody craves a nap,
God I need one too.
Panic and pain
Are pleadingly plain
On all these tortured faces.
So much water, coffee, tea —
Every soul has got to pee!
Still the loony races.
I dream about
Just slipping out,
I yearn with all my might.
But I run the risk of looking rude
And even though the speaker’s crude
Two rudes don’t make a right.
If I survive
This night alive,
If I don’t die from boredom,
No more tales by gassy men
Of super feats, amazing kin,
And the thousands who’ve adored ‘em!
(c) 1982, all rights reserved
Dr. Moore had the poem framed. He named me Drury’s Poet Laureate. And he changed the rules for future Alumni Awards banquets. For the next several years, recipients were introduced my masters of ceremonies and invited to stand and wave from their seats. These days winners are introduced briefly by chosen representatives and then given a very short time to offer their thanks. Don’t tell me poetry doesn’t have the power to change history!