Wednesday, January 04, 2017
Father and Husband
-The creep! Anyway, they didn’t DO it, did they?
-Grow up, Mark! Your daughter is an adult woman! Not a Sticky-handed little girl!
-I blame you!
-Join the parade.
-Sticky! Oh my God!
-You’re getting sick over it! Or sick-ER. God help you!
-No one does!
Labels: anxiety, daughter, father, husband, sex, Sheik of Araby
Tuesday, March 08, 2016
The Defiant One
Her mother and he agreed. Extraction
of the cell phone for a week.
She cried. At the actual imposition, and
continuously during the sentence.
She got it back, and he, somewhat guilty,
agreed to take her and two girlfriends
to see The Bell Bottoms, a throwback
trio of acne-scarred guitarists and “singers.”
An explosion of light and smoke and noise
like car crashes. With girls like his daughter
screaming.
The trio he brought remained enraptured
for two weeks! Such a mooniness is
devoutly to be wished.
If only for its quiet.
Which lasted a while longer. Breathing space.
Then a mid morning call from the principal.
When he arrived, present with her and the two
other girls, Detective Sergeant Del Destry.
Who had stopped them sneaking from the
school, intent on joining the boy band for
its upstate tour.
The musicians knew nothing of the plan...
or so they said.
The Principal wanted them immediately back
in class, and would drive them home after,
conferring with each set of parents thereby.
Mr Ohner, the shop teacher, volunteered to stay
in the car with the ones or one remaining. Until
the final stop.
A well-organized plan to help shatter parents.
The detective ultimately walked him out.
The high school was at the foot of a long,
uphill avenue.
“What do you see when you look up there?”
“Busy street. Cars.”
“I see a parade of psychologists and social workers.”
“And an end result of...misery?”
“Why not try Sister Veronica?”
The retired nun ran a soup kitchen at St Luke’s.
His Cindy there? mused he. No way!
Way. She became indispensable.
Persuaded him and his wife to help out at the
Christmas Dinner.
He toasted Sister Veronica after, with cranberry juice.
“We owe you!”
“You owe God.” Didn’t disagree.
Labels: beleaguered parents, boy band, cell phone, defiance, father, girls, Mother, nun, parents, problem girls, soup kitchen, teen behavior
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Aeroplanes they never thrilled her
Barbette rocked with
one suicidal lover
after another. Her
father tried breathing
again when she turned
celibate Goth.
“Looks like shit but
who gives a fuck?”
Labels: daughter, father, Goth, rock n' roll, suicidal, youthful experimentation
Sunday, April 01, 2012
Distance as Style
“Please! Sordid details are women's things!”
His daughter's muffled crying permeates the house.
Has gotten enough from wife Mona to feel that
Christie is mixed up with a bounder in the disguise
of a Goth. He concludes, though, said Goth more
simple than calculating.
Knows a man who knows roughnecks at the lumber yard:
Goth scuffed around a bit.
The sheriff has been on a ‘random crime’ kick to prove
the community importing urban ideas.
"But not random this time. Just young men taunting
each other about homosexuality and then fighting."
Goth drops out, and Christie finds a suitor born
in a suit.
Now, labor stirrings at the plant. The manager
invites some leaders to sit down with him.
"Not working so far, and a union trying to elbow in.
It’s important you tell me how far to go...in all regards."
“Do what you have to do.” He walks up to his elevated office,
takes an alcohol wipe from the antique desk.
Methodically opening the tight package and unfolding one.
Labels: father, Goth, management style
