Memories of Dad
July 25, 1926 ~ June 15, 2008
Faithful husband, loving dad,
Grateful for all that he had,
‘specially for grandkids, Jessie and Matthew
who brought so much joy to their “Vavu.”
A proud Navy vet of World War II,
his serial number is his tattoo.
A police officer, loved and revered,
serving Fairhaven thirty-three years.
Laughter that raucously rang aloud,
a patriarch who walked so proud.
Collections — oh, he had a few,
stamps, coins… random paint cans and screws.
A smile that could overflow a room,
confiscated fireworks – we lit with a boom.
Clocks, the ones that make a bunch of noise,
a solemn commander with just a voice.
A lucky guy at cards and life
much time spent playing with his wife.
Glory and danger of deuces wild
were taught to me as just a child.
A dad who led us by his ways
teaching hard work should fill our days.
A half hour early was his way
unless his daughter caused a delay.
Not a talker by any stretch,
another trait I did not catch.
But so much of him goes on in Mike,
tinkering, bartering – so much alike.
From planting their yards to raising their kids
their similarities can’t be hid.
Dad shared wisdom we’d surely need
though not wisdom we’d always heed.
Yes, a man of few words, but much advice
like never accept the tag as the price.
Keep your gas tank at least half full;
say what you mean – no patience for bull.
Pay with cash or don’t pay at all.
Visit mom and pop shops – avoid the mall.
At Foxwoods, play some slots then hit the buffet;
you leave content and with your shirt that way.
Stay under the speed limit at all times,
even if behind you, form angry lines.
Of course, that’s simpler in a squad car;
behind Dad, West Island was doubly far.
New Englanders, he’d want you to know
in Florida, there is no snow.
So now I bid a last adieu
to a man I hope you knew,
a man who was my very own Lance
a man who lived strong and loved to dance.
July 25, 1926 ~ June 15, 2008
Faithful husband, loving dad,
Grateful for all that he had,
‘specially for grandkids, Jessie and Matthew
who brought so much joy to their “Vavu.”
A proud Navy vet of World War II,
his serial number is his tattoo.
A police officer, loved and revered,
serving Fairhaven thirty-three years.
Laughter that raucously rang aloud,
a patriarch who walked so proud.
Collections — oh, he had a few,
stamps, coins… random paint cans and screws.
A smile that could overflow a room,
confiscated fireworks – we lit with a boom.
Clocks, the ones that make a bunch of noise,
a solemn commander with just a voice.
A lucky guy at cards and life
much time spent playing with his wife.
Glory and danger of deuces wild
were taught to me as just a child.
A dad who led us by his ways
teaching hard work should fill our days.
A half hour early was his way
unless his daughter caused a delay.
Not a talker by any stretch,
another trait I did not catch.
But so much of him goes on in Mike,
tinkering, bartering – so much alike.
From planting their yards to raising their kids
their similarities can’t be hid.
Dad shared wisdom we’d surely need
though not wisdom we’d always heed.
Yes, a man of few words, but much advice
like never accept the tag as the price.
Keep your gas tank at least half full;
say what you mean – no patience for bull.
Pay with cash or don’t pay at all.
Visit mom and pop shops – avoid the mall.
At Foxwoods, play some slots then hit the buffet;
you leave content and with your shirt that way.
Stay under the speed limit at all times,
even if behind you, form angry lines.
Of course, that’s simpler in a squad car;
behind Dad, West Island was doubly far.
New Englanders, he’d want you to know
in Florida, there is no snow.
So now I bid a last adieu
to a man I hope you knew,
a man who was my very own Lance
a man who lived strong and loved to dance.
~NTAS~
No comments:
Post a Comment