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Poem

Those born into a family large will know whereof I speak.
Your chances of donning the newest clothes was very, very bleak!
Alas, hand-me-downs became a tradition at our humble house.
Being at the end of the clothes chain always made me grouse!

I had the dubious honor of wearing things that were always patched.
Color coordination was out of the question since nothing ever matched!
The fedoras I wore flopped down over my very ample ears.
I resembled a tiny Al Capone, embarrassing me to tears!

The pants I wore were wrapped around me once or twice.
"You'll grow into them", said Mom.  "For now they will suffice!"
The sleeves of the jackets I wore came nearly to my knees,
Making it hard to find my hands to stifle an onrushing sneeze!

The shoes I wore were usually two sizes too long and wide.
I waddled like a wounded duck with every painful stride!
The neckties I wore were of big brother's dreadful taste.
Looped around my scrawny neck, they hung well below my waist!

Teenage years flew by, a reprieve from this predicament I could see.
The guys in Air Force recruiting posters looked mighty sharp to me!
I enlisted anticipating wearing a snappy suit of Air Force blue,
Only to be issued olive drab hand-me-downs from World War Two!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
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