1983
On My Father’s 50th Birthday
August 1983


“On My Father’s 50th Birthday,” New Era, Aug. 1983, 23

On My Father’s 50th Birthday

When my father read he’d push his lips together

very tight, till they stayed that way without

a book around. I liked to ask him questions at

night when he was alone reading in the living

room, watch him take off his glasses, lock his

fingers. He always had the answer I wanted,

though not briefly.

He felt so guilty for making us

live in the same small town he grew up in

that he told me and my sisters never to

become lawyers. We promised. We knew lawyers

were nice people, but people with mouths tight

like Daddy’s, and they thought so much at lunch

that they either wore bibs or took off their ties.

He was relieved and almost 40 when my brother

was born. On John’s seventh birthday he

bought two BB guns, yet I never wondered

why he didn’t buy himself a doll on my

birthday. When I turn 19 this December

Daddy will tell me how lucky I am to still be in

college and give me something he wants himself.

I’ll thank him, tell him I’m so glad to be home

and kiss that mouth and when the streets are

quiet and it’s dark outside I will go in the living

room and ask him a question.

Photo by Aaron Vinck

Photo by Lynn Howlett

Photo by Tracy Jones