hard menPosted: March 20, 2012
My father and grandfather were hard men. The depression and two world wars shaped and molded them. Tough times build tough men. They were kind, in their way, but affectionate or loving, never.
You knew you were loved, they worked hard to take care of us, but I cannot recall ever hearing my dad say I love you. We had cars, and bikes and Christmas was piled with presents. I recall coming down the steps as a small boy and seeing the presents piled higher than I was tall. They were wise and advised us, none too gently but sagely, but when we were fifteen we heard “When you turn 18, you are out of the house”. And at 18 we went forth to distant places, some rarely to return.
So I grew up distant and unengaged, and it cost me more than one girlfriend. I remained sensitive, but I kept it inside. I tried to compensate with my kids, but I am sure others felt the chill. I had learned no other way.
After over 1/2 century and cancer, I set the words free with my story in prose and poem. I will not be unknown as my father was. I will leave verse behind me.