Wednesday, June 11, 2014
A revised Father's Day Lexicon for children of all ages
A is for the Athlete your dad used to be
Before he got old and he busted his knee.
He ran the fastest and he jumped so high ...
(He gets better and better with each year that
goes by.)
And A is also for Alcohol, which some fathers
eschew,
While others don't mind a martini or two.
B is for Baseball, which just isn't the same,
Since Mickey and Willie and Hank left the game.
But M. Trout and Y. Puig and the divine Miggy C. might yet redeem it; and cause it to be
More about W.A.R. than P.E.D.
B is also for Bald, which some fathers can't hide
(Though others use Rogaine and comb over the
side).
C is for Christmas Eve, Santa's big night,
Fathers fumbling with wrenches in grainy dim
light,
Performing assemblies with patience despite
Instructions printed in Japanese and finite
resources to draw on --and no batteries in sight.
And C is also for Cat, with her imperious stare. Dad doesn't like Kitty, and Kitty don't care.
D is for Decorum, which fathers maintain,
When things fall apart and children complain
Life isn't fair and that they can't explain
Why the dog has a mohawk, the carpet a stain
or why we've exceeded our data again.
And D is for Dog too, we can't leave him out --
Though since his haircut he's decided to pout.
E is for Effort, which means you must try,
Even when algebra's hard and you want to cry.
Not everything's easy, some things must be
learned,
Life isn't a party and it's time you've learned
if you're going to succeed, you'll need a skill.
And though Mom and Dad love you, not ever
one will.
F is for Football we toss with our dad
(His "spirals" wobble, but aren't all that bad).
G is for Golf, which some fathers play
Others watch it on TV -- at least
on Sunday.
Did you buy Dad that driver with the adam-
tium head? He'll hit it 350; that's what the
ad said.
H is for Hibachi (otherwise known as "the grill")
Where fathers char meat with aplomb, if not
skill.
H is also for Hot Dog, and Hamburger too
(But not for quinoa, bean salad or stinky tofu).
I is for Innocence, lost in a blink.
And never recovered, whatever you think.
And I is for Apple, iPhone and iChat,
iPad and iPod, iThis and iThat.
J is for Junior, the namesake, the seed,
the biblical prodigal who shows up in need.
Of course he is feted, of course he is fed,
He's the child once lost, now returned from
the dead.
And J is for Jordan, the greatest of
all, better than LeBron at basketball.
Better than Russell, Wilt, Kareem
and the rest ...
Because I said so, and Father knows best.
K is for Kafka, who had issues with dad
(See his "Brief an den Vater" if you think
you've got it bad).
It seems Hermann was stout, Franz skinny as
Hades, and the father didn't like the son's
taste in the ladies.
L is for Larkin, the poet who wrote the poem
about parents I'm not going to quote.
M is for Mother, the partner of Pop,
Who probably loves you and probably won't
stop.
And M is for the Medal Dad got in the war.
He won't talk about it, he won't say what it's
for.
N is for Nightmare, that sneaks in like a thief,
and pollutes your dreams with its snaggly
teeth.
You shouldn't be frightened, you're safe
in your bed
All of those monsters are just in your head.
(But if you're still worried, and still pretty
small, Mom and Dad's bedroom is just
down the hall.)
O is for Office, where some fathers must go,
To pick up paychecks and ride with the
flow, to maximize profits, generate rev-
nue -- and to die a small death for the
time missed with you.
P is for Politics, just one of the sports
Daddy follows on TV, through the news reports.
It used to mean plenty -- some believe it
still does.
But it's mostly just gossip, hype, spin and
buzz.
Q is for Quotidian, just a big word for
"boring."
Though you might not like it, there's no use
ignoring
How things can feel -- you should be
exploring
The great wider world and incidentally
storing
Up memories for when your kids are
imploring
"What was it like?"
"What did you do?"
"Why don't you ever talk about
you?"
R is for Races, which fathers don't always win,
Not because they don't try but because,
in the end,
The point is the running, not the outcome.
(Or that's what they'll tell you; these daddies
ain't dumb.)
S is for Social Media, don't think it's the same
as the real world; it's a computer game.
And S is for Sons, which fathers all are yet
And will be for always, don't ever forget.
T is for TV, the worst thing there is.
It sits in the corner to sizzle and fizz.
It sells you plastic, it ruins your eyes,
It pacifies spirits and tells big lies.
It makes you an idiot -- or at least
pretty slow.
I'd tell you more, but it's time for my show.
U is for Underwear, which should always be
clean
In case there's an accident and it gets seen.
(It shouldn't be dirty, that's what I mean.)
V is for Virtual, which can seem quite real,
Though it's but "aluminosilicate, glass and stainless steel"
And the projections of whatever you feel.
Or V is for Vacation we take in the car,
Though if gas prices keep rising, we
won't go too far.
W is for Women daughters grow to be.
Some marry, some don't and some constantly
test the arbitrary limits of society.
They call it patriarchal -- they're probably
right
This causes Dad worry night after night.
X is for Xerox, a trademark, a brand.
(Not a verb that means "copy," they'll have
you understand.)
Or perhaps it's for X-Men, from the comic
books, reminding us beauty is deeper
than looks.
Y sounds like Why, the questions you pose;
like "Why can't I touch my tongue to my
nose?"
And "Why can't we stay up late to watch
Fallon's show?"
And "Why is it that poesy is harder than
prose?"
Y is really for Youth, wasted on a kid who
wanted so to grow up -- and finally did.
Z is a tough one, we have zero clue
what it might stand for -- how about you?
It might stand for zipper or zany or zoo.
(It's called "zed" in England, where they use
words like "loo.")
But none of these words are how we'd like
to end.
Not zither or zinnia or zygote
or Zen.
So maybe Z is for Zeus, who
fathered his quota:
60 divine kids. And 60
more mortal.
On his daddy's day,
Olympian chaos
ensued.
Athena gave him a
headache; Ares was
quite rude;
Apollo pouted; Herc-
ules copped a 'tude.
They were all out of sorts
because they'd been to the mall
And how does one shop for a god with it all?
So just tell Dad you love him, if that's how it
is, And if it isn't, please be good to your kids
Whether they're present, or absent or future,
the nature's a crap shoot, but you control
the nurture.
The original version of this poem was published in 2001.
Family on 06/11/2014