[Az-Geocaching] The Anniversary Present
Scott Nicol
listserv@azgeocaching.com
Wed, 30 Oct 2002 19:10:11 -0800
Now that there was some mighty fine readin'! A wonderful poem! You ought to
start writing songs Steve!
:)
Very cool.
Scott
Team Ropingthewind
------------------------------------------------------------------------
>From: "Team Tierra Buena" <teamtierrabuena@earthlink.net>
>Reply-To: listserv@azgeocaching.com
>To: <listserv@azgeocaching.com>
>Subject: [Az-Geocaching] The Anniversary Present
>Date: Wed, 30 Oct 2002 19:58:52 -0700
>
>The Caching of Stan McBee
>
>(With profound apologies to Robert W. Service, whose poems should be
>read and enjoyed by all.)
>
>
>
>
>
>There are strange things found on the caching-ground
>
> 'Neath the Arizona sun;
>
>There are rattlesnakes sly, and cholla that fly,
>
> And temps that reach one twenty-one,
>
>What's 'round the next bend could make hair stand on end,
>
> But the strangest sight you'll ever see,
>
>Is if you find the cache that has nothing but ash --
>
> The remains of old Stan McBee.
>
>
>
>Now, Stan McBee always went out with glee
>
> To locate the latest site.
>
>He found quite a few, even placed one or two,
>
> Just to keep his Cache Karma right.
>
>He lived all alone, so the urge to get goin'
>
> Was no cause for family strife.
>
>'Twas but one little fly in the ointment, or I
>
> Would say Stan had a cache-perfect life.
>
>
>
>That flaw had to do with his left and right shoe;
>
> Seems he never once got them to trod
>
>As a pair, or a team. Sad to say, it would seem
>
> That my caching friend Stan was a clod.
>
>Ten yards with his gait, sure as flush beats a straight,
>
> He'd be sprawling out flat on the trail.
>
>He fell once too often, and started to soften,
>
> Old Stanley was getting quite frail.
>
>
>
>He called me one day in his affable way,
>
> And said, "Meet me. I'll buy you a beer!"
>
>But when I got there and saw him in the chair,
>
> I knew there was no cause for cheer.
>
>"I just came from the doc's. I've tripped too many rocks,
>
> Son, I ain't got much more time to stay.
>
>When I take the last fall, my attorney will call
>
> You, and please do what she has to say."
>
>
>
>I was saddened no end, but a friend stays a friend,
>
> And I promised I'd honor his plea.
>
>We shook hands in farewell. Though it hurts me to tell,
>
> 'Twas the last time he ever saw me.
>
>Weeks passed, one or two, then a phone call came through
>
> from a law office down in Tempe.
>
>"At our office near Mill, we'll be reading the will
>
> Of the late cacher, Stanley McBee."
>I arrived right at ten, and was soon ushered in
>
> To the office of Mary Sinclair,
>
>She asked me to sit, and I near threw a fit
>
> When I saw there was only one chair.
>
>"You were Stanley's one friend, it was right at the end
>
> He left all his possessions to you.
>
>But to get his bequest, he left one last request
>
> That you alone can and must do."
>
>
>
>With that she reached o'er, and up from the floor
>
> Moved a green ammo case to the table.
>
>"Stan's been cremated. His will clearly stated
>
> You must do this task if you're able.
>
>Here's a long and a lat; now you must go seek that
>
> Site, and under a cottonwood tree,
>
>Hide this ammo-can cache, though it be filled with ash.
>
> It stays secret between you and me."
>
>
>
>Armed with my GPS, and just barely a guess,
>
> I set out to seek the location
>
>Of that place in the land where my good old friend Stan
>
> Wished to rest his remains of cremation.
>
>Without too much grief, and to my great relief,
>
> 'Round that waypoint I steadily tightened,
>
>As I drew near the spot, my nerve endings were shot,
>
> For some reason I felt rather frightened.
>
>
>
>The site suited him, it was up on the Rim,
>
> (Maybe not. These are beans I won't spill.)
>
>And in spite of the trees, I got signals with ease:
>
> There's the spot, just atop a small hill!
>
>As I set down the case, my heart started to race,
>
> Beause someone had been here 'fore me!
>
>There's a lined yellow sheet, that was folded so neat,
>
> 'Neath a rock by that cottonwood tree.
>
>
>
>"Son," said the note, and you know who wrote,
>
> "You're a fine cacher and a good friend.
>
>In spite of my spills and my physical ills,
>
> You were here for me right to the end.
>
>Now I want you to savor the depth of the favor
>
> You've done me. It's not overstated:
>
>Thanks to you and your Garmin, this clumsy ol' varmin'
>
> Can at last say: I'm COORDINATED!"
>
>
>
>There are strange things found on the caching-ground
>
> 'Neath the Arizona sun;
>
>There are rattlesnakes sly, and cholla that fly,
>
> And temps that reach one twenty-one,
>
>What's 'round the next bend could make hair stand on end,
>
> But the strangest sight you'll ever see,
>
>Is if you find the cache that has nothing but ash --
>
> The remains of old Stan McBee.
>
>
>
>C Copyright 2002, Stephen N. Gross. All rights reserved.
>
_________________________________________________________________
Get faster connections -- switch to MSN Internet Access!
http://resourcecenter.msn.com/access/plans/default.asp