A fortunate accident was my birth,
Here in the greatest country on Earth,

I could have been Egyptian under Ramses II
With skin a little darker than its actual hue,

Might have lived in an igloo or Indian teepee
Instead of the kind of house that fortune gave me,

Became a communicator, as luck would have it,
Learned everything from Morse code to electrons' habits,

Practiced the black arts behind locked doors,
Cut my teeth on "D" rigs and HT-4's,

Traveled all around the world serving my country,
After biding in the manor house like landed gentry,

The place was like a palace and students such as we
Attended classes in that building, when new to OC,

Today it's a landmark-- a feature of the past,
On that large knoll near a town that's growing fast,

We called it "The Hill," but the place was known better,
Locally as, "The Training Center,"

Now I'm retired and living out West,
But I haven't forgotten how we were blest,

In return for mastering communications things
They gave us banquets fit for kings,

If ever I see that site again,
I'll be as happy as any man,

As a senior citizen I remain content,
Remembering my career as time well spent.

by D. Edgar Murray