Second Poem - Observations for the Hallway - Steve Cornish
You know, last night I stood around the pool and watched
all of you people, and again tonight as I look around I see so many smiles
dancing in peoples eyes and I know that God is here. We need to celebrate that.
Among all us folks there are several teachers. And other than mom and dad, they had more influence on our lives than anyone. I especially remember MAX OSBORN after our last football game. Following a game the bus would usually pull up to the school and we’d all just bail out and head for the showers. But that last night, Max told the bus driver to stop behind the school and before we got off the bus he stood up to talk to us.
He said, “This is the last time most of you will ever put on the pads and there’s something you should try to remember about what we have done for the past three years. You should remember that we did not win them all – but you know we didn’t lose them all either. Because of that I think that we might have had more fun playing this game than anybody. As you go forward with your lives remember that this, for it is just what your life will be. You won’t win them all and you won’t lose them all – but just like life you have to get into playing the game if you’re going to win anything all and have fun doing it.
I see COACH LUCAS over there and I have to take a moment to say “thank you” for the failing grade you gave me in freshman track. I always suspected that my grade had something to do with the boycott of the boys track program but I couldn’t prove it because of other disciplinary issues. It seems only justice though, that I got kicked out of class while Coach Mike was kicked out of school. But, we both wound up better off for it.
Finally, to ALEX CAMPBELL I have a huge thank you. Because of you I learned to love God through music and the love for both has lasted me a lifetime.
Now, about this poem thing: I only remember seeing three poems and three votes and a three way tie. Now I didn’t vote for myself so I know that I was kinda roped into this thing. That being said, let me tell you about my poem.
I always had a way with words that seemed to set someone’s teeth on edge and because of that rather unique talent I also managed to spend a good portion of my high school career sitting by myself in the hallway. I observe that RICK BLOCK had the same gift as I often saw him sitting somewhere in the hallway with me. It was a regular enough occurrence that between us we developed the first American Sign Language. Anyway, in honor of the education I received in the corridors of Alameda, my poem is titled “Observations from the Hallway.”
Observations from the hallway
Inside
our old school we grew up together
The world was ours, we never said never.
There
were dances and lovers and there were hallways and teachers,
We had boys on the team, and Pom's on the bleachers.
I just have to stop here a moment – I have a confession to make about the Poms and the teams. You know, when we went to Alameda it was mostly a farm community. People worked hard and the boys grew up working and grew up strong – and because of that, we were generally a powerhouse in small school football.
I remember Mike’s first year coaching we won all but one or two games. The next year we were playing fairly well and had won four or five. Then it was time to play a big school - Lakewood.
I remember that we won the toss and received the kickoff. We huddled and then broke for the line. At center was RICK ROWE who weighed about as much as two possums in a bag. Next to him was Tom Portice who was tall but didn’t weigh much more than Rick. I was one of the bigger boys at 165 lbs and next to me was LARRY WILLIS. Larry was about six foot four, but you could drop Larry and a toothpick through a straw and they’d both come out the other end without touching the sides.
So we hustled up to the line and I looked across at this guy named Jerry something - and he was the size of a four-wheel drive, three quarter ton diesel truck. I looked at Tom and his eyes looked like a couple of eggs that had laid on a hot rock for an hour or so. Then I looked across from me and there was Pat.
Pat Matson. He was destined to be come a two time all-American at the University of Colorado, a first round draft choice by the New England Patriots and a 6 time National Football League all-pro tackle.
I whispered, “I ain’t afraid of you, Mr Matson..”
“Sir.”
So Coach Lucas sent in the play. Rick centered to JIM COX who handed the ball to EMMETT HARDING. Mister Matson and friends met him in the backfield and Emmett spent the rest of the game on the sideline staring up at the cheerleaders. (Looking back on it I don’t know if he was hurt or not as he really seemed to be enjoying the opportunity.)
Then Coach sent in his secret Weapon: LUKE LUCAS. He patted him on the back side as he yelled encouragement: “Go get-‘em, Lukie.”
Again, Rick centered to Jim, and Jim handed to Luke and Misters Matson and associates met him in the backfield and knocked him just as cold as a frog. As the pile of bodies untangled I walked up to the two of them and said, ‘Hey guys, we have to play you four more times before we get out of here. If you promise not to kill anyone, I’ll just tell you who’s going to get the ball.”
We finally scored on them in our senior year.
The rest of the poem:
We
played and ran and we laughed and we sang
Down monster road, our voices rang.
School
was a thrill, I had someplace to be
Where friends had gathered and I could be me.
A teenager
obsequious, mendacious, intransigent
-
luddite
(Look that up in your etymological thesaurus, Mr. Right.)
Once
again to the hallway I was rejected
Because of the silence I again had infected.
My
observations out there bothered no one at all.
Just me and mysellf - sitting there in the hall.
Then
suddenly I was outside and beside mom and dad
Staring into a future I didn't know that I had.
My
dreams were not shattered for I had none at all
Was I going west or to college, or nowhere next fall?
But
thanks to a teacher I stumbled across
our God, to hold on to - in spite of my loss.
Then the
world moved around me for what seemed like forever
And one day I heard, "you're old." Who, me? No, never!
So still
feeling my oats and not all that long in the tooth
I began to ponder the pals of my youth
Then a
classmate I found – a lost friend revealed
My search was just starting, and to still more, I pealed!
There’s
Paul and Jerry and Jimmy and Harry and Jackie and me,
and Larry and Bonnie and Sherrie and Darlene - Dick and - Josie!
No, I
haven't changed at all, as they will all see,
But I hope they don't remember too much about me!
‘Cause
our dreams are alive, oh YES come and see,
What's happened to you and what's become of me.
Now in
that old school are books that are tattered and battered,
though like us, what's inside is all that has mattered.
One day
I stepped into a dream as a lad,
And walked to a future I didn't know I had.
So now
that I've got it, I'll hold on to the dream
The cover is tattered but inside - ofb.
And to
those teachers I challenged with a lot of delight
They somehow have won, cause I came out - just right.
Some of you know that my Mom died just a few days ago. Something I read recently has helped me with my thoughts of her absence. The quote says:
Life is a gift from God.
It is your choice to observe it through tears.
You can suffer it in silence.
Or, you can rejoice in it with laugher,
And celebrate it with song.
It helps to remind me of a song that the Kingston Trio recorded in 1962. It ended with the words “There’s rioting in Africa, there’s strife in Iran. What nature doesn’t do to us, will be done by our fellow man.”
Yes, so little has changed over these years that we matter now that we ever did before. There are so many opportunities where we can make a difference, if remember that we just have to get out there and play.