The greatest gift of all
Bob Kessler | Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Twas the night before finals when all thru the JACC,
Not a creature was stirring, not even K-Mac.
The netting was strung from the hoops with great care,
In hopes that the Legion soon would be there.
The freshmen were studying all quiet in CoMo,
While visions of plane flights started to grow.
And profs with their coffee, some with their tea,
Were writing the finals we all wished to see.
When out at the Gug there arose such a clatter,
Coach Weis had just realized that losses do matter.
Away to the window he limped very slow,
The swelling on his knee was starting to grow.
Looking out on the fields where they practiced all year,
A loss to the Warriors he started to fear.
He texted his boss, already in bed,
These sleepless nights were going to his head.
At that very moment in the library basement,
Writing feverishly I was not yet complacent.
A Christmas Poem I wanted to write,
To bring joy to all, as well as delight.
My thoughts were still racing about my exam,
And those horrible meals when the DH serves ham.
My focus was gone, my mind had no might,
I realized I needed was a smooth Keystone Light.
So out to my car I moved very quick,
A grin on my face, like the smile of St. Nick.
As I got in my Buick, the ice turned me blue,
Back home I did go to drink a quick brew.
With the car running smooth I arrived in a flash,
Not Ice nor Snow could make this GM crash.
As I walked up my steps, and turned the bright key,
I couldn’t contain my emotional glee.
I entered the house while my roommate did say,
“We’re dogs to the Warriors on the Eve of Christmas Day?”
Embarrassed I was with the madness of that,
I symbolically threw down my Notre Dame hat.
As I entered the kitchen and found a cookie,
I picked up my phone and called my bookie.
They’ll cover the spread, I said almost laughing,
Rhyming is hard, but at least I’m not rapping.
I opened the fridge looking for my tasty stone,
A problem I saw, our fridge was dry to the bone.
I went right outside in the snow to our neighbors,
But they only had Bud, not the smooth Keystone flavors.
To the stores I thought, to buy me a rack,
It’s Sunday, I recalled, openness they lack.
With no options left, I drank some hot cocoa,
A house without Keystone is driving me loco.
I retired to my room all ready for bed,
Clouds of disappointment danced through my head.
Finals were coming, and I couldn’t quite think,
I desperately needed that light and smooth drink.
In the morning I’d wake and go back to my work,
Because tests and papers continued to lurk.
And in the darkness, yet another clatter,
My roommate entered. What was the matter?
He tossed me a stone with a gleam in his eye,
Speechless I was, I almost did cry.
The blue on the can so bright and magical,
It must have been a Christmas Miracle.
Santa did come, he told me with joy,
With eyes wide open like a nine-year-old boy.
The reindeer I heard, upon the rooftop,
Not even the gunshots could cause them to stop.
As he left the room and walked out of sight,
I said Merry Christmas. Have a good night.
Bob Kessler is a senior majoring in political science and economics. You can contact him at firstname.lastname@example.org
The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.