Side By Side Fathers

Recently someone gave to me a copy of "The Moral Compass" edited by William J Bennett as a companion to his previous compilation; "The Book of Virtues".  Last night, within its pages I discovered a very old friend - a poem by Edgar Guest - which has always caused my eyes to water.  However, this morning I must have wished for my eyes to do a little more than water because I sat down and penned my own poem, side by side with Mr. Guest's.  And my tears flowed freely.

I am not suggesting that I am of Mr. Guest's caliber but, to me, my poems is so very personal and so very true that the tears just came.  Sometimes this evening I suspect my own sister will read this page.  She will probably cry and then she will probably call me on the phone.  It is good to hear from loved ones during the holidays. 

I will begin with the poem by Edgar........

FATHER

Used to wonder just why father

Never had much time to play,

Used to wonder why he’d rather

Work each minute of the day.

Used to wonder why he never

Loafed along the road and shirked;

Can’t recall a time whenever

Father played while others worked.

Father didn’t dress in fashion,

Sort of hated, clothing new;

Style with him was not a passion,

He had other things in view.

Boys are blind to much that’s going

On around them day by day,

And I had no way of knowing

What became of father’s pay.

All I knew was when I needed

Shoes; I got them on the spot;

Everything for which I pleaded,

Somehow, father always got.

Wondered, season after season,

When he never took a rest,

And thatI might be the reason

I never even guessed.

Father set a store on knowledge;

If he’d lived to have his way

He’d have sent me off to college

And all the bills, been glad to pay.

That I know, was his ambition:

Now and then he used to say

He’d have done his earthly mission

On my graduation day.

I saw his cheeks were getting paler,

Didn’t understand just why;

Saw his body growing frailer

Then at last I saw him die.

Rest had come!  His task was ended

Calm was written upon his brow;

Father’s life was big and splendid,

And I understand it now!

And now for mine…..............

FATHER, I REMEMBER

© ROBERT BURNHAM

(In Memory of Everett)

Father, I remember

How you would often walk to work

You toiled 42 years within that mill

While your family enjoyed the perks

Sometimes I would stroll

As a lad to the top of the hill

And wait patiently for an hour

To hear that ‘quitting time’ shrill

All the men would come out

And walk tiredly across the bridge

Their work-day now forgotten

A cold one waiting in the fridge

But your own thirst you wouldn’t think of

As you seen my waving hand

You joyfully rushed up the hill

Just to hug your ‘little man’

I knew that you provided

All the things the family had

But I never realized such sacrifice

Could make a man so glad

You loved mom, we all could see

Each day that you came home

You’d take her in your arms so tight

She never felt alone

Father, I remember

How you taught me to fish the stream

And how you’d always tell us

“Never give up on your dreams”

I never thought your life was fancy

But I knew it was honest and so true

And you left me always thinking

There was no father quite like you.

And then after the day mama passed

You grew a little old

But the twinkle in your eye remained

And your heart never got bitter or cold

And now you’re back with her

On heaven’s streets no less

And father I still remember

That you were the very best!