Dad

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.