Tag Archives: dad

2376. Devious Dad

Father: (standing up at dining table after dinner) Who would like a cup of tea?

John:            Me!
Jennifer:     Me!
Philip:         Me!
Marjorie:    Me!
Bernard:     Me!
Patrick:       Me!

Father: (sitting back down again) Well make me one while you’re at it.

1278. Yes, Sir

“The thing is,” said Dad… He was driving along in the car.

“The thing is,” said Dad… He was teaching his three kids in the back seat how to survive in this dog-eat-dog world. Mother was happily dozing.

“The thing is,” said Dad, “if you’re stopped by a traffic cop for speeding or something, just call them ‘Sir’. They like that. They’ll give you a warning and tell you to drive on safely. It works every time. Just call them ‘Sir’ – they’re as thick as a mud in a Washington swamp.”

“What’s this? Why am I getting pulled over by a cop? Kids, here’s your chance to see how what I said works.”

“Good afternoon, SIR.”

“You were speeding. Doing 70 in a 50 area.“

“Oh but, SIR, it’s Sunday and there’s little traffic about.”

“That makes no difference. Here’s your fine.”

The cop got in his car and drove off.

“Kiddies,” said Mother, now awake, “I want you to block your ears. Daddy’s about to say something you shouldn’t hear.”

Music 59: This old house…

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Three photos today!

These are photographs of the house where I grew up. Last week it was bulldozed over to make way for a new highway.

I remember in the early 1960s, Dad building the room to the right in the first and second pictures, and welding the wrought iron railings for the steps in the first and third pictures.

The first photo was 1965. The other two photos were taken recently. It’s all gone now, as things do…

Listen to the music HERE.

Poem 15: Thus ends

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Thus ends the last summer my father saw.
No one comes back, yet
Seasons turn as if a turning door.

His last days fell full, he could no more
Caste his kindly net.
Thus ends the last summer my father saw.

Mid-autumn’s sun can still burn raw,
But longer shadows set.
Seasons turn as if a turning door.

Hoar winter numbs hearts, stuns the core,
The callous wind throws forth her frozen net.
Thus ends the last summer my father saw.

Spring returns, so say platitudes of yore,
But things get farther set.
Seasons turn as if a turning door.

Death strikes us dumb, grief mixed with awe,
And makes pretensions smaller yet;
Thus ends the last summer my father saw.
Seasons turn as if a turning door.

To hear the poem read aloud click HERE.