Throwback Thursday. In remembrance of our 2012 Family Reunion. The storm that knocked Chief Wapello from atop the courthouse. A poem I wrote in 2012 after returning home, describing the chaos of the memorable day Dedicated to the day that Chief Wapello came tumbling from the Courthouse. A family reunion, that fine day in June, The sun was shining, by night a full moon, Randy and Nancy, and David and Anne, Shelley and Shirley, and Donnie and Jan, All 8 of us there, with Mom by our side, She’s smiling and happy, and filled with such pride, For six months we planned, by email and phone, Dinners and Cookouts, there could be no unknowns, The obvious stops, there were but a few, The Canteen and Grahams, for a bite and a brew, It’s been a full year, since we were here last, At the Hotel Ottumwa, the family was massed, It started to rain, some clouds that were small, But it didn’t take long, it turned into a squall, Thunder and lightning, horizontal rain, People tried to escape, it was all in vain, All of our family, in town together, But only a few had seen Hurricane Weather, Blowing and lashing, there arose such a clatter, But we were ready to eat, so it just didn’t matter, “The buffet is ready”, the waitress yelled, On To the good food, we all were propelled, The lights then went out, it was suddenly dark, Not a bit of light, not even a spark, We stumbled around, wondering what should we do, But then we decided, let’s go for the food, The buffet was hot, but we couldn’t see, The staff held flashlights, there were two or three, Someone ran in, and proclaimed to Amanda, Chief Wapello fell!, and that’s no propaganda, He fell from his perch!, hanging on by a thread, I looked at her face, it was filled with dread, Oh that poor man, call the police, get a chopper! She had no idea, he was just made of copper, We explained to Amanda about the Indian Chief, Suddenly her face, turned to that of relief, Over a hundred years, the mighty chief stood, Some thought he was bronze, some thought he was wood, Now he’s stuck on the roof, and he’s upside down, The park’s full of people, from all over town, Cameras and cell phones, the shutters are clicking, The firemen rushing, the clock is a ticking, It’s amazing the people, all coming to see, Even wheelchairs and walkers, among the debris, Police and Firemen, Reporters and such, Ladders and cranes, and big Fire Trucks, Men Swaying in buckets, holding big chains, Trying to hook onto, the big Chief’s remains, They got him hooked up, all tightened and clasped, As he started to raise, you could hear the crowd gasp, The Chief hung in the air, swinging back and forth, Swinging East and West, then he swung to the north, The crowd swayed too, as they watched from the street, Back and Forth, like a big field of wheat, The tension was mounting, not a word was spoken, Faces looking straight up, mouths hanging wide open, The crane swings wide, the crowd starts to scatter, There are whoops and hollers, continuous chatter, He’s finally stable, The chief’s coming down, Never seen such excitement, in such a small town, The crowd’s cheering and clapping, to see such a sight, Chief Wapello safe, from his mid-air flight, Onto the flatbed, our chief’s placed with love, The crowd rushes in, to see what he’s made of, He’s now being fixed, he’ll have a new knee, Then back to the courthouse, where he really should be, I saw cousins and nephews, uncles and aunts, Friends that were there, by some unlikely chance, The town came together, from that storm so severe, Brought together by a Chief, holding a spear, Family and friends were all saying Hello, We thank you for that, Chief Wapello By: Donald Riddle, July 5, 2012 .
Posted on: Thu, 18 Dec 2014 14:41:56 +0000
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