FATHER'S DAY

 

My father died in 1993. 

It’s been very strange all these years. 

not having a father. 

Actually kind of scary. 

My father took us to the drugstore after hours 

to eat all the ice cream we wanted. 

Towed us behind the car on the toboggan. 

Introduced us to Louis Armstrong and Benny Goodman. 

Bought the World Book Encyclopedia to enlighten the youth. 

Also a Hammond Chord Organ. 

Let me charge all the gasoline I wanted 

at Cooney’s Standard Oil station. 

Taught me how to do water color and oil painting. 

Rowed the boat when 

we swam across the River to Pig Island. 

Hid quarters and dimes in the sofa 

where my siblings and I found them. 

Took our Christmas trees to the body shop 

and had them painted red or blue. 

Bought me my first camera, 

my microscope, 

a tape recorder. 

Took our family in the boat 

to Indian Island for picnics 

with our dog Mike swimming behind. 

Also to the Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago. 

And the Chicago Art Institute. 

Erected a basketball hoop above the garage door. 

Took Steven and me on a trip to Mexico. 

Hired me as a drugstore clerk 

and paid me 25 cents an hour. 

Paid my way through Antioch College.  

Treated Katja and me to a French Riviera stay.

Held family reunions at Farm every August.  

I have to say Vic was a terrific dad. 

I miss you.

MY OBITUARY

 

The older I get,

the more I read the daily obituaries.

Interesting but depressing. 

Just about all the dead people in Cincinnati 

have had more impressive lives than mine. 

When I draft my obituary in my mind, 

I run out of items after 6 or 7 lines. 

I didn’t belong to any groups of note. 

Wasn’t the champ at my golf club. 

Actually, I didn’t even have a golf club. 

I wasn’t the CEO, 

didn’t serve on any boards, 

didn’t volunteer for charity. 

never did gardening 

or scuba diving 

or wood-working 

or travels to the Far East. 

My obituary kind of sounds like a footnote. 

I think I will tell them 

to list my age and cause of death, 

my sundry relatives, 

a list of family dogs, 

No. 2 singles on my high school tennis team, 

my introverted nature. 

That’s about it. 

Instead of flowers, 

send contributions to the SPCA.

IN PRAISE OF THE PANDEMIC

True, a horrific catastrophe for millions,

but, for myself, the pandemic

was not so bad, not so bad, actually pretty good. 

First of all, I was cleaner than I’ve ever been. 

I washed my hands each time I sneezed, 

covered all exposed flesh with Purell, 

changed clothes each time I came home, 

stayed away from my eyes, nose, and lips. 

And my surroundings, so clean too. 

I de-sanitized the doorknobs at noon and at night, 

scoured all the fruits and vegetables, 

never shared spoons or straws with loved ones, 

wore my surgical mask when walking the dog. 

So many new prohibitions, 

very stimulating for a rule-lover like me. 

Then, of course, the demise of the public sphere. 

The gym closed down, no more painful workouts. 

The theater, the symphony, the shopping malls. 

They even cancelled my high school reunion. 

No more movies, no restaurants, no trips anywhere. 

Life became much simpler. 

I enjoyed my new existence, 

locked away in my cozy little house,

like a faraway Tahitian island, 

so peaceful, so quiet, such solitude. 

My hearing miraculously improved (no talk). 

My social anxiety disappeared (no people). 

I did finally come down with Covid. 

It took the bug two years to find me. 

I can’t imagine where I slipped up. 

mild case, not much to it. 

Now, they say, the pandemic is over. 

Have they given any thought to we 

who were doing so well with social isolation?

I rather doubt it. I just cling to my fond memories.