A Sestina Celebrating Radar O'Reilly Jan 10 '05    Write an essay on this topic. Tweet Popular Products in Radar Detectors Whistler XTR-420 Radar Detector From $72 Cobra Electronics iRad-100 Radar Detector From $80 The Bottom Line A tribute to one of my favorite fictional characters. I really ought to spread these out a bit more, but I'm in a poem-posting mood, so here's another one. I wrote it a couple years ago in response to an assignment in poetry class requiring us to write a sestina about a sit-com character. I chose Radar because M*A*S*H is my favorite sit-com and he is my favorite character. Without further ado... Radar Like a little lost boy, he clutches his teddy bear In his arms, nervously wiping his grimy glasses. The war wants him to grow up fast, but he declines To change. He wraps his naivety around him like a warm Blanket to shield him from cold reality. High School never prepared him for the arrival of choppers Laden with wounded. The first time he saw it, his choppers Could not consume the chow in the Mess. He simply could not bear The sight of so much pain. Abandoning his dinner, he high- Tailed it outside to get some fresh air. "You dropped your glasses," The kindly colonel called. He smiles at the memory. How warm And fatherly was Blake. But now his face is creased with lines Of sorrow, recalling the descent behind enemy lines – No, the Sea of Japan should have been safe – of the chopper Carrying his mentor home. How his hand, practically still warm From that last handshake, trembled as he gripped the telegram, bare- Ly able to read it through the fog of his tear-stained glasses! If only he’d made it home, he would feel no guilt in his high Opinion of Potter, a horse-lover and high- Ly efficient commander who frequently inclines An ear to the clairvoyant corporal behind those glasses, Who has come to rely on the unexpected cry: “Choppers!” Hawkeye, B.J., Charles...all rush to the deceptively bare Field which, moments later, is filled with the stench of warm Blood as wounded are unloaded. Today is a reprieve. Warm rays of sun filter through the window; he squints as he writes, “Hi, Ma...” He pauses, seeking soothing words to fill the bare Page. And so he writes, filling his letter with lines Of pleasantries, letting cheerfulness mask the dread of choppers Looming ominously in his mind. Delicate as glass, his Words protect her. “...Love, Walter,” he finishes. His glasses Fog at the thought of home, and he seeks refuge in the warm Fur of Fluffy, grateful that Hawkeye refused to chop her Up beyond repair. The gentle rabbit’s presence is a high Point in his homesick days. Stroking her, he imagines the lines Of crops in Iowa, the newborn calves, his bedroom – bare. A rabbit and a teddy bear, a pair of filthy glasses... They are his only lines to his home, so distant and warm. Sighing, he sips a Grape Ne-Hi and awaits the choppers.

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