Friday, June 18, 2010
My father didn't teach me to fish or play ball or paint a fence or drive a car. He couldn't do any of those things. He was an orphan who worked on his aunt's farm in Poland until the Nazis came and took him to a concentration camp. When he got to America after the war, he was too busy working to do much of anything else. You don't learn a lot beyond the basics when you lead that kind of life.
But he did teach me somethings: to care for my family, work hard, and love life.
Happy Father's Day, Dad.
To read more about my dad, click on the following poems from my book Lightning and Ashes:
Why My Mother Stayed with My Father
What My Father Believed
Looking for Work in America