Brad Mylett

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MYLETT

He wakes and he does his Gillette
Then off on his bike he will set

He pedals from home
And heads for the Dome —

Mylett — the best a man can get

He bikes when it’s snowy or wet
His appetite’s easy to whet

His day will begin
By turning within —

Mylett — the best a man can get

Students he’ll aid and abet
He’ll get us 8,000 kids yet

He touches and teaches
With inspiring speeches —

Mylett — the best a man can get

Task forces? Brad is the vet
Always he’ll tell you, “You bet!”

Our low-branching trees
He’ll chain saw with ease —

Mylett — the best a man can get

He’s the man who you want at the net
Winning you set after set

Match after match
He’s the best of the batch —

Mylett — the best a man can get

In basketball, Brad’s where to bet
He shoots — and it’s nothing but net

He speaks with great zeal
To urge “curb appeal” —

Mylett — the best a man can get

That shine on his brow? Do not fret
It’s ojas — for Brad doesn’t sweat

Brad does not lapse
When counting the apps —

Mylett — the best a man can get

Write him up in the gazette
His match has never been met

He ought to be sainted
For the acres he’s painted —

Mylett — the best a man can get

He cuts quite a fine silhouette
He can do quite a nice pirouette

Brad is a soul man
A shooting-the-goal man —

Mylett — the best a man can get

Now, sweetly, he croons a duet
With Nora, a lovely brunette

And now he’s a dad
Our cuddly Brad —

Mylett — the best a man can get

The future will never forget —
The world will owe him a debt

The work is all done
And Brad was the one —

Mylett — the best a man can get

* * *

Bevan met Brad on the court —
Basketball, a mutual sport

He liked Brad’s assists
They knocked their two fists —

112 was where Brad would report

President’s Office — Day One —
He’s a special ops force on the run

High-speed car chases
Burglarizing places —

And the adventure had only begun

112 — that was Brad’s space
A twenty-four-seven kind of place

Brad was well tested
If not not well rested

But he knew how to keep up the pace

The kitchen was next to his bed
The generator next to his head

Projects non-stopping
The place always hopping

If no sleep, at least he was fed

His room was right next to the kitchen —
Perfect for a man on a mission

That’s where the action was —
Where all the distraction was —

But for sleep, not the greatest position

Brad, how you’ve split all our sides
Our laughter comes rising in tides

We listen and wail
As you narrate your tale —

The Tale of the President’s Slides

For Bevan, the sequence is critical —
Spending hours — intense, analytical

Finally, it’s done —
The show’s just begun —

Brad’s career — here comes the pinnacle

He carries the tray down the stairs
The audience all in their chairs

Then comes the slip
The tiniest trip —

And now, it’s the worst of affairs

Imagine the look on his face
As slides fly all over the place

His mind now insensible
Incomprehensible —

How swift, the great downfall from grace

Out from his lungs a word bellows
The paint on the walls nearly yellows

Regaining composure
From this hapless exposure

He returns to the nicest of fellows

He gathers the slides gone astray
Stuffs them back into the tray

Then out through the door —
And — horrors galore!

The audience heard his whole play

* * *

Though born in Cathlamet, by chance,
It’s for Pittsburgh, the Pirates, he pants

If the Pirates should win
He breaks out a grin

And will often advance to a dance

Brad’s now our Deacon of Dials
Ask him — he’ll pile on piles

Stretched end to end,
They’re impressive, my friend —

With Brad’s charts, we are looking at miles

The Visitors Weekends he’ll serve us —
Brad’s not the slightest bit nervous

Everything’s grand
Exactly as planned —

As long as he’s got Secret Service

With Brad, there’s no if’s, and’s, or but’s
With the one thing that drives the man nuts —

Out to the ledge
And over the edge —

The thing we refer to is . . . ruts

Ruts — he cannot abide them
Ruts — and don’t try to hide them

Rut makers, beware:
He knows that you’re there

And he’ll soon have you standing astride them

No reason for you to be scared
He just wants to see them repaired

Raked out and reseeded
Made good what’s misdeeded —

If you plan to make ruts . . . be prepared

So let us all toast Brad Mylett
The best any campus could get

We present a group gift
That should give you a lift —

Outside is your brand new Corvette

Find words to praise him? Egad!
They simply are not to be had

His heart so gigantic
Both silent and antic

But never quite frantic — that’s Brad

Search from Chihuahua to Chad
Sail the Seven Seas with Sinbad

You won’t find the match
Of our Cathlamet Catch —

You won’t find an equal to Brad

April 8, 2014 Alphabet