My dad I believe to be my reason why I chose poetry. He died in 1965 when I was six and he was 29. Dad was not healthy. He had a bad heart, arteriosclerosis, and died at a friend’s house of a cerebral hemorrhage. Dad’s grandfather (48) and father (38) both died of different heart problems. He was and is my hero. My book is dedicated to him. Once I began writing and the thought of publishing a book a formed, I promised him he would be published to. Dad wrote one poem found in a drawer after his death. The picture above is his senior picture and the handwritten poem that was found. I still have it.

Let me tell some things Gramma (his mother) told me about him. One day a neighbor came over to ask Gramma what radio station she had on. She had been trying to find it but could not. Gramma had to tell her it was not the radio but her son (Dad). He had a beautiful voice (like Gramma) and had taught himself to play guitar by ear. My mother as I have said in other blogs was mentally ill. The doctor told him he needed eliminate stress. His reply was Gramma told me this, “How do I do that?” Gramma suggested he divorce my mother. His reply to her was, “Did you leave my dad when he was sick?” He would go out with his friends to bars. Gramma would get mad because he should not be drinking. After he died, one of his friends told her that he never drank with them. He drove them all home. A designated driver before it was the fashion.

Yet, all those reasons, as wonderful as they are and would make him a hero, are not why he is my hero. He is my hero because most of my memories of him are him running to my rescue. I remember walking down stairs. I was too slow in front of my mother and she kicked so I fell the rest of the way. Dad heard my scream and cry. He came running yelling at my mother asking her what she had done. Another time, my sister and I were at my mother’s childhood home. I knew Dad was coming to get us and take us away from there. I could not wait. Everyone was getting mad at me because I kept going to the window to see if I could see him. Then finally he was there and I went to the window. There he was and I was very happy. I still remember how that moment felt.

Then, there was the day he literally saved my life. My sister (3-4 yrs. old) and I (5-6 yrs. old)were playing. She decided to sit on my back.  My sister and I are only 19 months apart, and I am the oldest. Kim being a bit chubby and mentally impaired. I could not roll her off or make her understand she was hurting me. I started screaming for help because it kept getting harder to breathe. Finally I could not talk or breathe. I knew I was dying. I could not be angry at Kim. She did not understand – just having fun. Just as my eyes were closing, I saw Dad in the kitchen door begin to run and my eyes closed.

I never remember him being angry at me or spanking me. We used to like to watch Bonanza. He always teased just before it came on that it was time for bed. I would have to beg to stay up. I always won. One Christmas waiting for his brother and family to arrive (they were normally late), I begged him to open one gift before they got there. He gave in. He handed me a stuffed male lion to open. I love wild cats and seems he understood that. Then, there was the day he sat me on a stool for hours. He kept playing the song MOON RIVER over and over until I could singing every word with the record (I still can). I did not ask him to stop. I did not get tired.  Gramma remembered that too. She never understood why that was so important to him.

Poetry was not a conscious choice for me. A child will choose the most consistent parent to emulate. My memories of my parents were polar opposites. My dad left one poem. He left one insight to his thoughts as an adult. He wrote that road of life was between the roads of good and evil. If you decide to read By the Pond, you will see I completely agree though I coose not to use the word “evil” in my poetry for the most part. You will also find his poem in the dedication.

My dad, my hero – no human being could ever live up this and I have never expected anyone to.