What Is A Father
A father is a person who is forced to endure
childbirth without an anesthetic. He growls
when he feels good and laughs very loud
when he is scared half-to-death.
A father never feels entirely worthy of the
worship in a child's eyes. He is never
quite the hero his daughter thinks. Never
quite the man his son believes him to be.
And this worries him sometimes. (So he
works too hard to try to smooth the rough
places in the road of those of his own who
will follow him.)
A father is a person who goes to war
sometimes... and would run the other
way except that war is part of his only
important job in his life, (which is making
the world better for his child than it has
been for him).
Fathers grow older faster than people,
because they, in other wars, have to stand
at the train station and wave goodbye to
the uniform that climbs on board.
And, while mothers cry where it shows,
fathers stand and beam... outside... and
die inside.
Fathers are men who give daughters
away to other men, who aren't nearly
good enough, so that they can have
children that are smarter than anybody's.
Fathers fight dragons almost daily. They
hurry away from the breakfast table, off
to the arena which is sometimes called
an office or a workshop. There, with
callused hands, they tackle the dragon
with three heads; Weariness, Works, and
Monotony. And they never quite win the
fight, but they never give up.
Knights in shining armor; fathers in shiny
trousers. There's little difference as they
march away each workday.
I don't know where father goes when he
dies, but I've an idea that, after a good rest,
wherever it is, he won't just sit on a cloud
and wait for the girl he's loved and the
children she bore. He'll be busy there too...
repairing the stars, oiling the gates,
improving the streets, smoothing the way.
Happy Father's Day
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