Was the way
I taught him to watch
What he’d say
I heard that story at least
A thousand times
When he was home
He liked to tinker
In his workshop
On some clinker
Pickups were reborn
In his hands
Sitting on a pillow
With Buddy on his lap
Playing the races
Or taking a nap
I’d kiss his cheek
‘Fore leaving Sunday afternoons
From the fridge on a whim
Must be one of my
First mem’ries of him
Two huge flannel-covered arms
On either side of me
Though seldom found
In church on Sunday
What I remember most
Is how he’d pray
Simply talking to his Dad,
Revealingly reverent
Speed-dialing down the road,
He’d ask “How’ve you been?”
No matter what you said
He did more than listen
Though he joked day and night,
He also gave great advice
He had such a laugh
He had such a smile
He’d always go
The extra mile
And a label like “Shorty” was
A sign of his love
Politically incorrect
In every way
Living the quiet life
Every day
He still made the world
A much richer place
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