The codfish lays ten thousand eggs,
The homely hen but one.
The codfish never cackles
To tell you what she's done.
And so we scorn the codfish
While the homely hen we prize,
Which only goes to show you
That it pays to advertise.
This anonymous jingle reminds me of one of my former colleagues at an academic library, who trumpeted every virtuous deed she did, no matter how menial. Whenever I came to relieve her at the reference desk, the changing of the guard could not take place without my grateful acknowledgement that, in my absense, she had sharpened all the pencils, or disinfected the telephone receiver, or performed some other incredibly thoughtful task, despite the other pressures of the job.
Sadly, I could never reciprocate, because I tended to spend my time at the reference desk finding information for the long line of frustrated patrons left over from her shift; but it occurs to me that without her diligence in keeping me apprised of her accomplishments, I would never have noticed the dearth of dull pencils.
Since poets are sometimes too modest to announce their publications on the Accomplished Members board--especially when (as in my case) there are no upcoming publications to announce--I thought we could all practice tooting our own horns over here.
Memorialize in verse a small but praiseworthy deed of yours. Be a hen, not a codfish. Extra points if you can make us cackle along with you.
Julie Stoner
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