Hey Netters,
I read Jeff's poem once again, and again. And got this idea: why not honour Jeff as TMOP (TechNet Master Of Poetry) !
I look forward too see his next Xmas poem, and also following year, and as long as he is TMOP. Can we vote? I realize that 1599 emails will crash Jeff's mailbox, so let's use the telepatic channel, much much faster than old email.
Did you hear, Jeff. All members said YES, except for Aussilek who got stuck because he forgot to send his poem in time.
Good Luck, Jeff, see you again in less than 12 months.
Ingemar Hernefjord
Ericsson Microwave Systems
'Twat the night before Christmas and out in the shop,
the lines were shut down, I had just stowed the mop.
The tweezers and cutters were stored with great care,
in hopes that St. Crawford soon would be there.
The boards were all shielded in boxes and bags,
serial numbers were marked on their little white tags.
My ESD smock and wrist strap put away,
I was ready to leave on this icy cold day.
When back in the shop I heard such a clatter,
I sprang to my feet to see what was the matter.
Out onto the floor I flew with a flair,
tore open the ovens and shut off the air.
The glow of dim lights on the conductive tile floor,
got me to thinking how to give our next tour.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but an IPC icon, with TechNet engineers.
Arms full of old documents, lap top on his back,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Jack.
As sharp as can be these TechNetters came,
and he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, INGEMAR! now, KELLY! now, PICO and HILLMAN!
On, MOON MAN! on, SELDAK! on, GREGORY and CHRISTIAN!
To the top of the rack! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
He was dressed in a lab coat, from neck to his waste.
It was covered with super glue and old solder paste.
A pocket protector full of pencils and pens.
He kept mumbling and mumbling the number six-ten.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
and the hair on his head was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
that shook, when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
he tested the benches; then turned with a jerk,
and laying his finger aside of his nose,
and giving a nod, through the air duct he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
and away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOODNIGHT!"
Jeff Ferry
Chairman IPC Repairability Committee - IPC 7721
President
Circuit Technology Center
Haverhill, MA - Fremont CA
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