“Yesterday was the anniversary of my father’s death; he died thirteen years ago. I’ve thought of him often this month but not yesterday. What about yesterday don’t I know?
My father was the last of eleven children; called Jack though his name was John. My father claimed he had a chip on his shoulder; seemed proud that he kept it on.
A boxer, a carpenter, a joker to the end; always with a twinkle in his eye. Absent from my life most of my life but at least we said goodbye … at least we said goodbye.”
NATURAL BEAUTY AND OTHER POEMS, p.52