Tag: Family

Fatherhood

I am watching my son.
He is on YouTube.
He is not playing sports.
He is not at band camp.

In these modern times,
Many parents watch their sons
On YouTube or TikTok.
Most are appalled.

I am rather proud.
It is an older video.
It is from last year.
He is preaching.

He is a professor,
Not a preacher,
But professors
Just lecture.

So, he is lecturing.
However, it is in Chapel.
That is pretty much
Preaching.

My son is at his job,
Talking about Jesus.
I mention Jesus at work,
But in a different context.

How did a lowly sinner
Such as I
Produced a preacher?
(Even part-time.)

I’m sure his Mom
Takes all the credit.
That’s how it works.
Athletes say, “Hi Mom!”

Preachers talk about
The Father and the Son.
I guess I got half-credit
In the divorce.

Go away.

Sea Shanty Italiano

Sea shanties are always about the sea. This is, of course, unfair. There are plenty of worthy subjects for sea shanties, and plenty of other occupations (say, cooking or gossip) where having a way to keep a group in rhythm would be helpful.

To the tune of Drunken Sailor

What do you do with a Wife Italian?
What do you do with a Wife Italian?
What do you do with a Wife Italian,
Sometime late mid-morning?

Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Oy vey, it needs more garlic,
Sometime late mid-morning!

Don’t wake her up or she might cut you!
Don’t wake her up or she might cut you!
Don’t wake her up or she might cut you,
Sometime late mid-morning!

Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Oy vey, it needs more garlic,
Sometime late mid-morning!

Wake up the dogs, and let them wake her!
Wake up the dogs, and let them wake her!
Wake up the dogs, and let them wake her,
Sometime late mid-morning!

Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Oy vey, it needs more garlic,
Sometime late mid-morning?

Quiet in the house, let’s watch her stories!
Quiet in the house, let’s watch her stories!
Quiet in the house, let’s watch her stories,
Sometime late mid-morning?

Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Oy vey, it needs more garlic,
Sometime late mid-morning!

Time for the news, let’s call her sisters!
Time for the news, let’s call her sisters!
Time for the news, let’s call her sisters,
Sometime late mid-morning!

Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Oy vey, it needs more garlic,
Sometime late mid-morning!

Read another book by Nora Roberts!
Read another book by Nora Roberts!
Read another book by Nora Roberts,
Sometime late mid-morning!

Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Oy vey, it needs more garlic,
Sometime late mid-morning!

Visit Amazon, and buy her trinkets!
Visit Amazon, and buy her trinkets!
Visit Amazon, and buy her trinkets,
Sometime late mid-morning!

Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Oy vey, it needs more garlic,
Sometime late mid-morning!

Feed her an Eggplant Parmigiana!
Feed her an Eggplant Parmigiana!
Feed her an Eggplant Parmigiana,
Sometime late mid-morning!

Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Oy vey, it needs more garlic,
Sometime late mid-morning!

Douse her with water and watch her melting!
Douse her with water and watch her melting!
Douse her with water and watch her melting,
Sometime late mid-morning!

Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Way, hey, it needs more garlic!
Oy vey, it needs more garlic,
Sometime late mid-morning!

What do you do with a Wife Italian?
What do you do with a Wife Italian?
What do you do with a Wife Italian,
Sometime late mid-morning?

RIP

There are many phrases I never thought I would write, and one of them was, “Well, now I’ve been to a funeral on Facebook Live.”

My cousin Joey Koch died from COVID-19 this week and his funeral Mass was in D’Hanis this morning. There were actually more people at the service than I expected. Most of the people I talked with weren’t attending, and they were family. I find this tragic, but not surprising in this times.

His was not only a COVID case, it was a Facebook case. On January 21st, he posted that he had been fighting COVID for eight days. Two days later, he posted that he was in the hospital. By February second, his blood pressure was low and he was on a ventilator. He seemed to rally, took a turn for the worse, and then he left us this week. In the midst of all this, he had his fifty-seventh birthday.

So, this morning, Holy Cross Church live streamed his funeral. Without this, I wouldn’t have attended. His sister sent me the link to the livestream during the rosary. I was crying in my recliner. I hate funerals, but I really hate funerals through a small lens that somebody in the back of the Church remembers to adjust randomly.

At the end of the rosary, before Mass, while everyone was readjusting things, the camera panned around the front of the Church, and I saw Joey in his coffin with his Texas A&M cap beside him before they closed the lid. I am not sure this was helpful for me.

Watching one of my cousins’ funerals online was a very strange occurrence. Usually, a death in my Mom’s family implements the same drill. Call or text relatives you haven’t spoken with in a while. Coordinate arrivals in Hondo or D’Hanis. Assume you will meet at least some of the mourners at Hermann Sons the night before the Mass. Attend the reception after the services, and somewhere in the afternoon, realize you are probably laughing quite a bit more than proper at a memorial.

However, this is the time of COVID-19. When we talked online during the drill, I think we were each waiting for the other to say, “I don’t think I’m going to attend.”

Finally, my brother suggested we have a Celebration of Life (a memorial where you’re expected to laugh) some time this Spring, when people are vaccinated and everything is back to normal-ish. This way, nobody had to feel badly about skipping the funeral.

That’s when I realized we’re also celebrating the one-year anniversary of the two-week lockdown. Everything is probably never going to get back to normal-ish.

This morning, I realized I still felt badly about skipping the funeral.

So, now I actually know someone who died from COVID. I have friends that have recovered. I know people who lost relatives. I know people that know people. This one was close to home.

I hate funerals. I hate saying “Goodbye.” I don’t like endings that I don’t control. However, I don’t like skipping funerals even though it was the right thing to do from a safety standpoint. I never thought I would regret not going to a funeral, but this one is close.

I really don’t like endings that were pointless. Joey’s ending was pointless. His ending was pointless because he died of COVID-19.

Joey was being cautious. He had mentioned on Facebook that it wasn’t just about you, it was about the people around you. If someone in your household is in a high risk group, you’re in a high risk group by default.

However, caution does not beat stupidity. It is rumored that he contracted the disease at work. Someone in his office went to Florida to visit family for Christmas and someone there was showing early symptoms. His coworker came home and just went back to work. No mention of any disease. Oops.

COVID-19 is the idiots’ disease. Not that idiots contract it, but that idiots spread it. If you travel somewhere, self-isolate when you get back. Not because it’s the law, but because it’s just common sense. If you think you’ve been exposed, get a test. If you think you’re sick, warn the people you’ve been around. If you don’t feel well, just stay home. If you don’t, you may find yourself feeling better just in time to bury someone you knew.

Adventure Escaped

We are going to get an RV.
It is time to hit the open road.
We will go wherever we wanted.
We will be Grandparent Ninjas,
Swooping in to visit and vanishing.

Off to discover America on the open road.
We would have no schedule to meet.
Sleep wherever we wanted to sleep.
Stay as long as we liked.
Vanish with the wind.

We learned some of the lingo.
I signed up for all the emails.
We watched all the RV programs.
We yelled at all the families
Who obviously picked the wrong unit.

I started a blog because I was serious.
I began mapping our planned journeys.
We would retrace some of the long roads
We had previously traveled by car.
This would be so much less stressful.

Finally we started looking at RVs.
I wanted a Class A like Willie’s bus,
Just with less smoke.
My wife wanted a travel trailer.
She didn’t want to be a bus driver.

Some RVs seemed a wee bit small,
Especially for larger people.
Then, my wife reclined on an RV bed,
With her relatively bad back.
She said, “Where will you sleep?”

We both considered driving with forty feet
Of metal following behind on every turn.
We’d both backed into things in cars.
I wondered how to determine bridge ratings
Before we plunged into a raging river.

Soon we realized it was convenient to
Sleep wherever you wanted to sleep.
Stay as long as you liked.
Have coffee and breakfast in the morning.

We will save a lot of money not getting a RV.
This savings will help cushion the sadness.
Much of the savings will end up going to
Our friends at Hampton Inns worldwide.
We’d drive beds with us but they have them already.

Since we don’t have to drive our beds around,
The rest of the RV savings fund goes to
Our friends at Southwest Airlines.
They go pretty much where we would have driven,
And they actually go faster than my wife.

I’m sad we are not getting an RV.
On the other hand, I can afford the groceries
My wife can fit inside a car, even a rental.
I’m not sure how much of Carfagna’s
She could have fit inside a toy hauler.

Birthday Plans

My birthday is this Tuesday.
I will spend it recovering from taxes.
Oh, such fun is my birthday!

I will be fifty-nine years old.
Too young to die,
Too old to work at IBM.

My party is not on Tuesday.
My party is this afternoon.
My family celebrates on weekends.

My family is weird that way.
The government moved holidays to Monday,
And my parents misread the memo.

So, today is my party.
Yee haw!
I still won’t get a pony.
Damn.

Maybe Tuesday a pony will arrive.
I’m not holding my breath.
Who can hold their breath for two days?

Parenthood

Can someone hold my child?
I am so completely enraged,
I probably should not
Be near him currently.

There is a wide, black trail of
Instant Coffee, running from
My kitchen to the bedroom.
Across my new white carpet.

My husband said he calls it,
“The Trail of Tears.”
Someone should hold him, too.
In case this becomes a rampage.

Deep breaths.
Deep, cleansing breaths.
Maybe a glass of Chardonnay.
It’s better now. Somewhat.

It’s just a very messy line.
It will all come out in the wash.
It’s not really grounds for murder.
It’s not even grounds for divorce.

Grounds.
He he he he.
I crack me up.
I better start cleaning.

The Cedarville Line

It’s a long way to Ohio

Southbound on the Cedarville Line,
My Texas home is on my mind.
I’ve only got four States to go,
It’s a long, long way from Ohio.

Indianapolis goes flying by,
Someone behind me starts to cry.
I’m not the only one alone,
But at least (at last) I’m heading home.

The Land of Lincoln’s just a blur,
I turn around to look at her.
Her crying stopped a few miles back,
Now, it’s just the clicking of the track.

St Louis and the engines needed fuel.
The dining car refilled the gruel.
I grabbed another cup of joe,
Just a few more hours left to go.

Oklahoma, we just blew right past.
Next is Texas, home at last.
Cross the border to the Lone Star State.
Hurry now, let’s not be late.

Made it home on the Cedarville Line.
In fact, we made it right on time.
Texas underfoot at last.
Northbound before the summer’s passed.

Security

My grandkids rode around in my car.
We set the locks so they can’t go far.

They tried to escape just one time each.
The secret lock was out of their reach.

All safe.

We went home at last, sad to say.
We’ll go back up again someday.

Later, their Dad came down to visit.
Well, to a meeting, same thing, is it?

We went to dinner, which was quite a treat.
We got home, but he’s still in the back seat.

All safe.

My Beloved, the Non-Weeble

Pain and suffering. Constantly.

Editor’s Note: Weebles wobble, but they don’t fall down. So, my wife is not a Weeble. Some people are just accident-prone. I know one of them. She married me. Oy vey. This is in her voice, since that’s the only way it makes sense. You just have to imagine the cries of anguish at the end of each stanza. 

I think I’ll have a glass of tea.
Ouch! I think I sprained my knee.

I was writing out my shopping list,
I stopped because I sprained my wrist.

The list said, “Ribs. At least a rack.”
Wow. I think that I just wrenched my back.

I filed the list in my to-do folder,
But now I may have popped my shoulder.

I turned on the TV and saw Bethenny Frankel,
Then dropped the remote and broke my ankle.

It’s Spring, we should be on a ship,
It’s just I may have strained my hip.

I reached to remove a piece of fluff,
And I think I tore my rotator cuff.

I know it’s time to feed the pup,
It’s just I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.

My husband said, “Hey, let’s get frisky!”
I said, “Oh, my God! That’s much too risky!”

My husband thinks he’s such a clown,
I’d hit him, but I’ve fallen down.

Again.