Sunday, August 5, 2012


REMEMBERING MY FATHER
(Because Today would be his 105th Birthday)

In the beginning was the father
Who could make me laugh.
Sat me on his knee
And read the funny papers.
Katzenjammer Kids. I loved that name.
I loved him too
The way his voice was deep
And made me feel all cuddly safe.

In the beginning was the father
Who built a go cart
In the back of our garage
For me to ride down long Salina Hill
Fast enough to beat Dick Withington
Whose doctor dad
Drove long black cars
But could not build a go cart.

In the beginning was the father
Who told corny jokes.
“Why did the chicken cross the road?”
Then answered back himself.
“He thought his house was on the other side.”
“Dad, that isn’t how it goes,”
I told him giggling.
“That’s how it ought to go.”
He’d wink at me and chuck my cheek.

In the beginning was the father
Who invented things.
Like windshield wiper cups
To catch dead bugs –
A bookstand on a sponge
For reading in the tub –
A contraption that could start the car
From in the house on frigid mornings.

In the beginning was the father
Whose heart had almost fire enough
To warm the middle and the end.

Alice Orr

1 comment:

Robert Ray said...

great poem, ms Orr
nice sentiment
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