My 50th Birthday!

A grim reaper with a wooden handle and a black cloth.

This poem was written by a young lady that worked for me in 1991.  I was the supervisor of the payroll department in our local shipyard, which is the largest shipyard in the world, makers of nuclear subs and aircraft carriers.  I was celebrating my 50th birthday and when I arrived in my office there were huge black balloons everywhere and 25 employees stood at the entrance as this poem was read to me.  I hope you enjoy it as much as I did way back then.  It surely brought a smile to my face.

Ode to Our “Haleâ€

(January 30th, 1991)

We’ve gathered here as a group,

to mourn the passing of your youth.

Don’t be sad ‘cause you’re getting old (50),

you’re as old as you feel, so I’m told.

Don’t lie and say you’re forty nine,

‘cause we know you’re 50 and almost blind.

Stop saying, “what am I to do?â€

A bit of hair dye will get you thru.

You’ve come a long way in your life,

she must crack a mean whip, your wife.

But be proud of what you have done,

you’re like premium steak sauce, A #1 !

You start each day the same; it never fails,

when you answer the phone and say, “PAYROLL, HALE!â€

You’re tough, you’re mean, and play no games,

but we love you, Tommy, just the same.

Hey Tommy, all kidding aside,

You should be proud and have much pride.

For you have made this shipyard unique,

With your charm, smile, and handsome physique.

….Crystal Webb