When I Think of You

(for my dad on Father’s Day 2008)

I think of ...

Plaid.
Dr. Pepper.
Toothpicks.
Sloppy Joes.
Butterfingers.
Lemon meringue pie.
Mesh hats and mowing.
Eye-rolling puns that my husband adores.
Burgers and onion rings at the Chuckbox in Tempe.
Naps in front of TV game shows in the heat of the afternoon.


And I think of you ...

... in your stroke judge whites,
confidently identifying the DQ and
gently informing the swimmer of his infraction.

... cruising fourth on our family bike rides around Emporia,
calling out to the three of us when cars approached from behind and
confirming that it was safe for us to make left hand turns.

... driving to Colorado and gamely taking up the rear of the swim team caravan,
entertaining me and Andy with protests of “GREEEETTTTLLE!”
every time the red car in front of us crossed over the yellow line.

... transforming the top of our driveway into a two-square court,
laying the garden hose in a rectangular shape, intersected by a 4x4 from the garage.
You were the king of the power shot,
a low-flying zinger that skimmed over the 4x4
and bounced so close to the back hose border
your opponents assumed it would be an “out.”
It never was.
But your modesty and your tendency to let us win every now and then kept us—
and all the neighborhood kids—
coming back for more.