I mentioned in Monday's post that Charles Bundschu started our family tradition of writing and reciting poems on special occasions over 100 years ago. Those of you who are members of our wine club, or have attended our events over the years, know this to be true, as we've made a good number of you 'sing for your supper.'
Our annual wine club gatherings, called Revels, in another nod to Charles, often include an element of performance. Members write rhymes and toasts, perform skits and songs, and otherwise contribute to a long legacy of creativity and camaraderie, of art and silliness, that is a central tenet of our community.
As part of our countdown to this Friday's Annual Deed Day Writing Contest , today we share with you one such poem written by a club member at an event a few years back. These are often written in very brief amount of time, often a few glasses in, but always with a warmth and friendship that makes our club members so very special to us.
As you craft your entry for this Friday, know that they need not rhyme nor be in perfect meter, nor do we give any consideration to mentions of Gundlach Bundschu specifically. Most important is the heart, sincerity, humor and emotion of your words. Here is one example from an event a few years back written by a 'wine of the moment' club member (aka WOMer) named Barb:
Boones Farm Tickle Pink
Was my favorite wine to drink
I didn't care if it had aged
Just how to buy it underage
Many years have passed since then
Probably twenty, maybe ten
But my knowledge of wine was slim
Until I got to that winery of Jim's
I didn't know how to swirl or quaff
People with their nose in wine made me laugh
But through kindness and patience with a novice like me
I think I've learned what great wine should be
Yes, it is bouquet and clarity
And a sense of complexity
But the truly special ingredient
Is the essence of family
Passed on through generations, so generously shared
With their workers and their tasters, why everyone that cared
Some places may ship you wine, but there the story ends
WOMers are lucky; ours is a special delivery from friends.
