Thanks Dad

I gained my sport competitiveness through my early-youth relationship with my Dad. I was always bugging him to shoot baskets or play catch; naturally, I wanted to impress my Dad and of course I wanted to 'out-do' him if possible. Perhaps from the time I was six years old until I was eleven, I jumped at every opportunity to foot-race my Dad down our side street to a telephone pole and back to our drive way...the experience changed one day. I awakened several years ago, in the mid-night hours thinking about 'THAT' day it  changed and I penned these words:

                                                                               CATCHING UP WITH DAD

I raced down the alley to the telephone pole,
I gave it my all seeking a coveted goal.

My opponent, my Father, my hero no doubt,
Would this be the time I win and then shout?

The races, shooting baskets and backyard games,
I competed against my model to desire the same.

Just once to win against the giant of a man,
To prove to Dad, I will and I can.

One time close and another so near,
Was the edge his age or perhaps in my fear?

Then one day it happened, victory over Dad,
Though the sweetness came laced with the sad.

Many years have gone by and I race no more,
My Father is gone; no need to keep score.

Now I stroll through the park noting others at play,
I watch the young father and son on this day.

They huddle and chat then point to a sign,
'Ready Set,' then they are off to that line.

The lad tries so hard but not up to the task,
Time will change and soon Dad places last.

Oh, these changing roles all part of the plan,
The secret, you know, is to 'race' while you can.

Happy Father's Day; enjoy past memories as you pay-it-forward.

(December 2003...Moja)