Two decades ago, at the end of my first gruelling semester of law school, my torts professor, Peter Schuck, proved himself to be, as I’d always suspected, a fellow undercover wordsmith.
We had spent the term litigating the fictional libel case of Sands v. Mudd, and were waiting for him to render a final verdict. We received our answer over drinks in a dozen verses of witty doggerel. (FYI: The case settled out of court.)
Now a Professor Emeritus, he continues to rhyme fast and furiously – with his grandchildren serving as his favourite muses.
In return for my memos and briefs from long ago, he’s generously contributed some of his odes to Pheonix (age 8) — no footnotes or legal citations included.
Why write poems for grandchildren (or, for that matter, nieces, nephews and pint sized next door neighbours)?
First off, kids love gifts that are custom made just-for-them.
Secondly, tykes are likely to memorise the lines (especially if they rhyme), so your gift may be captured for life in their sticky brains.
But the greatest reason of all is the impact on the writer. Figuring out what makes your loved ones so unique, and capturing it in words, spotlights the feeling of love and magnifies it. What’s more, poetry-making is such fun that we feel an extra surge of connection with those who inspire it.
One doesn’t just write for love, but also to love, and to love all the more fully, insightfully and empathically for having written — whether the subject is one’s adorable grandchildren, or a class of bedraggled, sleep deprived first year law students.
For Phoenix on her Eighth Birthday!!!
Phee we’re keen to celebrate
You as you reach the age of eight
Though you’re north in New York State
A virtual party we’ll create.
Mom has made a special cake
Camp is on a special lake
There you might see duck or drake
All of nature is awake.
After all, your 8th birthday
Deserves all praise that we can say
All homage that to you we pay
As you go on your merry way.
The meadow larks and bumble bees
Sing of you in leas and trees
Next time we see you, we will squeeze
You hard ‘til you say, “no more, please”.
Off to Vermont
Phoenix, Jethro, Mom, and Dad
Are in Vermont— we’re very glad
Where you are safe from nasty virus
Did you know that old papyrus —
An ancient form of writing paper —
Was made in Egypt where a skyscraper
Shaped like pyramid, three steep sides,
Was built so Egypt’s kids could slide
Down them into the soft brown sands
And then go home to wash their hands
Infinite love,
Poppy
For Phoenix on her sick day
Phee, the girl with so much pep
Has now come down with nasty strep
Coughing, sneezing, scratchy voice
This is not the kind of choice
You’d make if you could have your druthers
Avoid infecting any others
Especially your brother Jet
But soon, I know, you’ll be all set
So clear your throat and take a look
Stories to read and coloring book
But please be careful, don’t be sloppy
We send our love — Gigi and Poppy.
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