Words sometimes can't express ...

Dad, you mean the world to us, from A to Z

Father's Day illustration

Father's Day illustration

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