If you’ve ever gone to summer camp, odds are you’ve either made a lanyard or watched others make them. The materials may have changed—in my day, thin strips of plastic were the standard—but many of today’s campers still spend time in the craft hut, weaving together strands of fabric into circular cords, often with an attached clip or hook for holding objects such as whistles or ID cards.
Poet Billy Collins was one such camper. In “The Lanyard,” this former poet laureate of the United States describes making a gift for his mother from the plastic strips I myself remember so well. The poem, as we shall see, is about much more than lanyards.
