My Christmas Poem :)

Every year, my good ol' Pops writes my mom, my brother, myself, and now my sister-in-law a Christmas poem.  This has been going on for at least 35 years...maybe longer?  It's a Frost Family tradition to have it read on Christmas Eve or Christmas day, no matter how far away you are.  So, although my Christmas yesterday was one of the books, I ended up being able to skype with the fam (at 2 am my time nonetheless) and hear my Christmas poem!  Pops outdid himself this year.  Every Frost Family poem usually requires a lot of time on Pops' behalf, but also a lot of thinking about important/funny/random things that happened that year.  This years poem has to do with the Peace Corps (of course), so without further ado...

One Surprise After Another 

Your mom thought Africa was where you’d have to go;

She didn’t know you’d end up where they have a lot of snow.

You took a hush-hush trip to Dallas, driven there by Scott,

But afterwards, what you could tell us was really not a lot.

“What’s Lydia gonna do?” folks asked 10 times a day,

And all 10 times we’d shrug and simply not know what to say.

We’d say, “She’s working here for Cathy…now and then”—

“We’ll know more later on…but we’re just not quite sure when.”

All that was in 2010—the PC takes its good time choosing

While candidates spend theirs just wondering and musing.

But then, word comes that thrills your very being—

You’re in!  Eastern Europe!  So you go…skiing.

You’ll take your brother and good friend Jill,

Hoping they won’t have a spill.

Ol’ Pops can send you Peace Corps papers

While you’re up north pulling skiing capers.

You’re skiing, but you want to know—

Where is it that you’re gonna go?

Mom’s in the car—I’m in the house,

And you’re as quiet as a mouse.

The FedEx man has brought the news,

Which means that soon you have to choose:

Have me send it…the question’s how…

Or have me open it and find out now.

Up in New Hampshire, you think a minute

About the packet and what is in it—

It isn’t long…the die is cast.

You vote to learn your fate at last…

My knife cuts through the envelope

While all that you can do is hope—

I rush to ease your aching brain…

And tell you…it will be Ukraine!

  

Before we know it, you’re in Oster,

A faraway place on a distant shore,

Learning Russian in a hurry,

With new words coming in a flurry.

For forty years I taught that tongue,

But you were bored when you were young.

I failed your appetite to whet—

You knew no more than да and нет.

You used to ask me…”An adjective’s what?”

You really didn’t know diddly-squat

When it came to English grammar and such

And didn’t want to discuss them much.

Somebody asks, “Is that the dative?”

“No clue,” you say, “I’m just a native.”

Participles, verbs, or nouns

To you are terms that just cause frowns.

But you can get around по-русски

And hang with Phil and have a brewski.

You buy your tickets at the station,

And you can navigate that nation.

It’s not your most important care

Whether you have to wash your hair.

You’ve learned to cook, but here’s the catch—

Most things you have to make from scratch…

Without an oven or a range!

To live abroad, you have to change.

The бабушки know how to push in line,

But so do you, so you’ll be fine.

With e-mail, Kindle, and such stuff

You’ve somehow managed to write enough.

The techno-world can keep me puzzled,

But no way does it keep you muzzled!

This is my yearly, silly poem—

You’ve heard ‘em before, and so you know ‘em.

But from the heart, though far away,

It means have a wonderful Christmas Day!

Circa Christmas-ish 1991?

Cool acid wash jeans Pops :) Loved this years poem, even from 5500 miles away!  Hope y'all had a wonderful Christmas day, remembering what the day is truly supposed to be about.  Love love, from Ukraine :)