the screaming abdab

13 May
hard to have a talk with him
like walking a field of hair-trigger landmines
stormy with ideas you might say
then booming in the face
at the top of his bull-horn lungs
for the misdemeanor

a prima donna, a diva in his mirrored eyes
and he earned the chops
at a height of six foot six,
waited the little people to hop to
and take note
of his broadcasting persona

a star from the age of sixteen
a pioneer
on the ground floor of canadian radio
broadcaster in winnipeg
he looked like clark gable
heartthrob of the lady fans
writing scented letters to him

his budding career punctuated by
by four years as a flier in the rcaf
401 squadron in world-war two
shot down in his spitfire over dunkirk france
the remainder of the war
in german prison camps

post-war back to radio broadcasting in ottawa
married a woman looked like marilyn munroe
they became citizens to the usa
taking residence in north royalton ohio
hired on with the radio station
whk cleveland as the director
of the station

he and his partner bred german shepherds
crafted a house built from an 1800s barn
in auburn ohio
and in 1960 they took two boys from an orphan home
ages four and three made them their family

the eldest of the brothers
with the junior addendum
growing up
but picked on
by "the senior" from the weight
he placed on his label
junior branded "the black sheep" after the teens
father said he went fifty/fifty his raising kids
for in srs eyes
the zero that dropped the ball

he fit a sized thirteen shoe
(and often said he'd put it up junior's...)
--wore only an eight and a half
berating the child he gave a family
warned not to tarnish
"his" bigness

this is not to put my dad down in any way but to put out there if others feel belittled by often well-meaning parents -- my dad always meant well (in his own eyes), but could be quite hurtful with his unbridled opinions - i made similar mistakes too. My fathers book

4.2 10/10
© Brian Peter Hodgkinson    
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Posted by on May 13, 2022 in Poetry


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