Yesterday we remembered and honored Dad.
Requiem for a Star
He died, just short of his 80th Birthday
survived by Mom, their three daughters, three son-in-laws, four
grandchildren and one great grandson
so we stand here today in his garden
to pay our last respects
and to remember
the funny,
I’ll finish it tomorrow
lovable despot, that we called Dad.
He used to tell me
“Don’t touch me, I’m a star”
and I believed him.
I aimed high
and I followed my star to Hawaii
where I raised a family and flourished.
He expected great things
from his offspring
and we produced, as good offspring do.
And I oft times wondered if it was enough
I think it was, because Mom tells me so!
So we gather to remember the good
to heal, to reconcile the past.
We gather to laugh, shake our heads
to raise our glasses
and toast
the loose boards
hanging wires
half driven nails
and let us not forget
the bamboo, the sumac, and the poison ivy
because in spite of it all
he stayed long enough to
know, love and praise his four precious grandchildren
Jason, Kenny, Taylor and Lauren and great grandson, Chad
indeed, he loved us all.
Dear old Dad
a happy-go-lucky sort
rich in aspiration
and poor everyplace else.
A tyrant
with a dream of restoring a drafty old summer house
without running water
nestled on a hill between a rock pile
and a wild jungle of vines and sticker bushes
a house that sucked up money
like a good HEPA vacuum, leaving us just enough to get by
He had envisioned a sparkling jewel
and she stands to this day
an earthy un-pinned floozy.
a small poorly lit home
where he and Mom raised
their three sparkling fashionistas
each one of us
a strong-minded finisher
despite
Dad’s shining example.
Mom, Angie and Chrissy
brilliant, polished and uncut
and me
chasing stars
cherishing faint memories
of an iron-willed father
too hot for mere mortals
flawed but sweet
a man
whose light still shines in the garage
because like its creator
there is no off-switch
a man
resolute and irreverent
who never kowtowed to the crowd of popular opinion
an imperfect German perfectionist born in the free city of Danzig
a master electrician, a craftsman, and a ham-radio man
who shocked us with his frayed wires, his genius
hot-wiring his way into our hearts and minds
an enthusiastic family man with hopes and dreams
who touched us with his light
and left much too soon.
A man whose legacy includes
a bushel of antenna wire
three Bic lighters
and a nude statue of EVE
causing me to
rise each day before the dawn
gaze up at the sky
and to wonder
which star
might be his.
