A New Auld Lang Syne

In every aviation squadron in which The Flying Curmudgeon ever served, there was a daily Log Book, of which the Squadron Duty Officer was required to maintain.

In this Command Log Book, would go information pertaining to visitors, significant events, (both positive and negative), and anything else that the Commanding Officer, (in the person of his representative - the Squadron Duty Officer), deemed worthy of being recorded for posterity.

This Log Book would become a binding, legal document, and had to be maintained and preserved as such.

At the beginning of every new year, the first entry into the Log Book would be made in prose form, with the appropriate time/date stamp of 0001, January 01, (whatever the new year happened to be).

In keeping with this tradition, The Flying Curmudgeon submits the following:

0001, 01 January, 2008:

"Twenty, plus one, have gone with the wind,
Since The Flying Curmudgeon, first picked up his pen,
On a night such as this, in a place far away,
A lonely hangar, he trod, alongside the bay.

'Inspiration,' he thought, the young officer sought,
How to summon the Muse, for a poem, be wrought?
A singular vigil, did dwell, in that cavernous shell,
His footsteps and he, the only ones who could tell.

For his solitary task, TFC would endeavor,
A New Year's Eve poem, for the Log Book, so clever.
This tradition, so old, how would it unfold?
With pen in his hand, the young Bard did behold,

The old year, '86, its final moments, would wane,
12 months, gone so fast, filled with pleasure and pain.
It began, oh so tragic, gone was Challenger's magic,
With one terrible blast, our nation was heartsick.

Seven souls, all so brave, for their country, they gave,
Their lives, cut too short, but their mission would pave,
The way into Space, they would want it, you know,
From their horrible deaths, some meaning might grow.

The height of the Cold War, the Russian Bear, he did threaten,
The security of our country, and that of our brethren.
Ronaldus Maximus, RIP, stood firm in the gap,
Forced Ivan to blink, and the war was a wrap.

As quick as that blink, from our Slavic "friend,"
The next time TFC would pick up his pen,
Seven years, go and come, anon and anon,
Like sand through the fingers, life is here...then it's gone.

The Cold War was over, Ron had bid us farewell,
The Persian Gulf War, in the past was, as well.
The "Man from Hope" had achieved, some said, "Deceived,"
His way to the White House, with Hillary, cleaved?

A new war beginning, though not all would know,
How far or how long, to what lengths they would go.
From its roots in Iran, the revolution expanding,
Our efforts defending Muslims in Bosnia, notwithstanding,

Like a cancer, would spread, Islamo-fascism, Red
Flowed the blood of the innocents, their eyes filled with dread.
Instead of fighting the war, he saw as a bore,
Bill Clinton would choose to ignore... and ignore,

The growing threat of Jihad, its tentacles spreading,
Throughout the globe, as he sat, a "Lewinsky," was getting?
(Sorry about that, dear readers, sometimes he can't help it)
TFC saw the shot, there was no danger, so, took it.

With apologies to Tom Cruise, those were the days,
Before Scientology, sadly, did craze,
The young "Maverick," his fame, nearly as high,
As the victory rolls he did in the sky.

When, along with Val Kilmer, together, defeated,
Their "Communist" opponents, "Fox-2," both repeated.
As the Bard does digress, it's all quite pathetic,
How once high-flying Tom, now, peripatetic,

Danced a "jig" on the couch, Katie Holmes, for his bride,
Career on the wane, no longer a hero - Goose having just died,
Collaboration with Redford, another U.S.A. bashing,
Box-office bomb... was that the audience laughing?

Back to the poem, TFC must return,
To wrap up this lyrical ode - to adjourn.
21 years have passed, all too quickly, for sure,
Since that night long ago, when prose was the cure,

For a long, lonely watch, his duty apparent,
Another year come and gone... now, back to the present.
As we say "Good-bye" to '07, "Hello" to '08,
There are a few things, important to state,

With the promise of renewal, that comes every year,
As you sit watching football, eating chips, drinking beer,
Don't forget, loyal reader, while you enjoy your HDTV,
A young serviceman, (or woman), stands watch in a Humvee,

Or a ship, or an aircraft, on "Alert 5," in case they're needed,
In harm's way, do they serve, their country's call, it was heeded.
So let's ring out the old, and ring in the new,
God bless our military. God bless America, too."

Happy New Year.

TFC