I don’t recall learning to get on with my mom!
But Dad and I were apart from the very start.
He was the Quintessential Man. A Rancher, Farmer,
Brick Mason, Rock Mason, he worked hard and
Well. All those decades of writing home included
An afterthought note “and how is dad?” I never
Wrote him directly and when telephones came
To our countryside, I got and gave news of the day
via Mom. He just didn’t seem to care where I was
and what I was doing. The year I was awarded an
advanced degree scholarship to Harvard, I recall
hearing him tell an uncle: “I think he is someplace
back East going to school!” The blame for this lame
relationship belonged to me, too. He had a special
disdain for boys he called ‘sissies’ and accused me
of being one whenever I showed fear or lack of
physical strength. After while I did the limp wrist
and other gay baits for his benefit. He died of a
surprise heart attack and I discovered he was an
indispensable keystone in the business of ranching
and the underpinning for mom’s remarkable strength.
Wonderful to read your poetic biography and learn so much more about you xoxoox