This is my favorite time of year because I’m reminded more than usual to be grateful for all the blessed bounty we have, to give more of myself to my loved ones, and to know with certainty of even better things to come in the future. This is a joyous season in so many ways, and I hope the Spirit of the Season lasts much longer for you than just a few days at the end of every calendar year.
I’ve been feeling creative lately, so I thought I’d share a poem with you to brighten your Holidays . . .
A Christmas Poem with a TWIST…
Twas the night before Closing,
When all through the office –
Not a structure was creaking,
Not even the soffits;
The documents were filed in the cabinets with care,
In hopes that Mercantile soon would be there;
The Borrowers were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Net Worth danced in their heads;
And Geof in his kerchief,
And I in my Gators cap,
Had just settled down [separately] for a long Florida nap.
When out in the lobby there arose such a clatter,
I sprung from my couch to see what was the matter.
Away to the front door I flew like a cheetah,
Twisted open the deadbolt,
Still groggy from margaritas.
The sunrays on the top of our palm tree fronds,
Had a likeness to dollars spread over green lawns;
When what to my failing eyes should appear,
But a miniature bus filled with Mercantile cheer;
With a tall, somewhat young driver,
So lively with repartee,
I knew in a moment it must be Tony Z (ara).
More rapid than Fireballer [IBA and ACE] George,
His lending sleigh, it came,
And he whistled, swore a little,
And called them by name:
Now Angela and Natasha!
On Robin! On [Nick] Triadis!
On Trey and on [Adam] Wonus!
To the top of the building!
To the top of the balcony!
Dash away! Dash away!
Dash away gleefully!”
As dry leaves that before another hurricane fly,
When they meet with a FEMA staffmember,
Mount to the sky;
So up to the railing-top the mini-bus flew—
A magical vehicle loaded full of commercial real estate deeds, and Tony Z. too.
As I shook my disbelief off and was turning around,
Through the front door,
Tony Z. came in with a bound.
He was dressed all in wool, cotton and silk,
But this being Florida,
Seemed of a peculiar ilk.
A bundle of deeds he had flung ’round his jacket,
But he looked like a bookie covering his racket.
His eyes — how they twinkled;
His stubble — how manly!
His cheeks were so tanned,
His nose like Paul Stanley’s!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the calculator in his pocket was starting to glow;
The pinch of his chew he held tight in his teeth,
And the aroma, it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had very broad shoulders and quite a fancy belt–
Which served him rather well holding in his belly,
However, it made him look,
Like an old oil painting of Machiavelli.
He was chiseled and level,
As should be an old bookshelf,
And I chuckled when I saw him,
In spite of myself;
A wink of his eye when he coiled his head–
Soon lead me to know I had nothing to dread;
He uttered not a word,
But went straight to his work,
Filling his satchels with documents,
Then reversing with a smirk,
And giving a pleasant nod,
And placing his hand on his calculator,
Out the door he did bolt,
Wearing a necktie of Albert the Gator.
He sprang to his bus,
To his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like an airborne Scud missile.
But I heard him exclaim,
Ere he drove out of sight,
“Merry Christmas! Happy Closings!
And to all a Good Life!”
P.S. As you can probably tell by now, we work hard (as evidenced by the accolades we’ve accumulated in only 4 short years) and we play hard (i.e. this silly poem). What can I say? We thoroughly enjoy what we do, and we want others to enjoy what we do, too.