I hope all my friends, family and of course fans had a wonderful father’s day. We had a wonderful day at the Stone house. We started with a picnic outing to Fairchild that my daughter planned because it’s one of her father’s favorite local attractions. It was a very sweet thought and so we went ahead with it even though it’s not really the season for lolligagging in a tropical park unless your a lizard. Let’s just say it was really hot. We made it into the park selected a location and we sweated it out for about 20 minutes before we all agreed to pack it in and head to the next location on our agenda which definitely needed to be airconditioned. At one point, the lunacy of the scene gave me the giggles. There we were, sweaty, red-faced, and bug-bitten all in the attempt to have a father’s day picnic. We did fly a kite and saw a really big snapping turtle.
Next we went to the Children’s Museum which was fun and then home for a swim and a bar-b-que. A great time was had by all.
Of course, I always think of my dad on father’s day. He passed away a few years ago just before father’s day. My husband the poet wrote this inspired by the event of my dad’s passing.
Jim’s Foot
Jim’s foot stood sideways in the air, he was dead
and no more alone, thought his daughter, than before.
She stayed with the foot, avoided the balance of him.
She I.D.’d Jim by his foot, for the cop, eyes trapped.
In side view Jim’s balance unevenly draped
the bed, the sheets, which blushed, uneasy holding him.
Corner to corner, he laid, catawampus,
foot jutted, opened door, daughter framed,
spackling light cross his creases and hair.
Jim’s foot, with toe-tag ascot, pointed
at absence, said his stopped heart
used to stoke wet anger
in those nearest willing
little more than a murmur
to pump reds.
Jim was not grandly asleep, upright
in gentle chair, tableau vivant,
pillows against face, lips just apart.
Jim’s foot, cocked upward, stayed tense.
He was dead, saying to those not there
this is as high as I go, so look or not.
Until tomorrow – A