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Friday, December 16, 2011


Thank you all for your commentary. It helped a lot. I guess things really aren't so cut and dry as they appear when you're a little kid in vacation Bible camp watching a Daniel and the Lions' Den puppet show.

Tomorrow is my dad's birthday. He's turning fourty-something. I think 47. I'm not sure. Is that bad? lol I've never been good at remembering people's ages. Anyway, I wrote him a poem. You guys think it's any good?

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAD

Leftover spaghettios, soup, and toast:
The breakfast of champions—and human garbage disposals
But who says the two can’t be synonymous?
Certainly not I
Nor Mom
Nor Grandpop
Nor anyone else with a job to do and kids to love,
For this is a country of closet starving artists.
Whether we wear smocks or suits,
Cabbie hats or construction helmets to work,
We abandon beloved beds on involuntary, inevitable Monday mornings
To do what we may hate to be able to do what we certainly love.

You, like—yet somehow more than—everyone else, are several times the sum of the parts you play:
Computer programmer,
Financial analyst,
Soccer and softball coach,
Runner,
Friend,
Husband,
And Father.
Because while some or even most merely play these roles, you become them.

You weren’t and aren’t just a worker, but a hard worker,
A great coach,
An excellent runner,
A genuine friend,
An ever-faithful, ever-loving husband,
And a Dad.

Some say, on their birthdays, congratulations to themselves for surviving another year;
I say to you, Dad, congratulations on continuing to laugh, learn, love, and live.
Keep up the good work.

ily
~Belinda

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