Old Man and the Lake

Yesterday, a friend and I spent the morning on Shoreline Lake in Mountain View, California learning how to windsurf. Dave and I enjoyed three water-soaked hours of instruction while our 10 year old boys literally did circles around us. Yes, their words were ones of encouragement, but the boys were dry and the dads were wet.

Dave and I are now “certified” to rent equipment and windsurf with our sons. It will be a long time, if ever, for the Dads to be as accomplished as the sons when we are holding a sail out on that lake.


Old Man and the Lake

Last summer at the age of nine
Our big son found talent galore
Catching the wind on board
Then surfing from shore to shore

“Join me on the lake”
He said to his creaky-kneed Dad
“We’ll race the morning away
I promise you’ll be glad.”

He made it look so easy
And he was just a kid.
My confidence abounded
I could do it like HE did.

With life vest and a swagger
Private lesson on the beach
I crawled onto the board and stood
For the uphaul line I did reach.

The sail was supposed to rise straight up
From salt water to strong hand
I proved a “Santiago” to this Marlin
Muscles struggling just to stand

Old Man on the Lake was I
Fighting wind and natures best
After falling over a dozen times
In water I did rest.

The ten year old circled expertly
“C’mon Dad, I know you can!!”
He screamed with strong encouragement
Gliding gracefully far from land.

The joyous moment then did arrive
As I stood and raised the sail
Being “one with wind” and bending knees
I captured a mighty gale.

The wind did push, and puff and blow
The boom and mast did shake
The board moved forward with steady speed
And kicked up a tiny wake.

Cheers erupted (OK, not really)
But without warning the wind just stalled
Losing balance, the smiling old man windsurfer
Took a mighty but happy fall.

Liberation Day

School starts tomorrow
Parents (including the two in my house) will rejoice
In sounds echoing but reversing the day of birth
When parents say, to the newborn, "welcome, welcome"
And now parents say, to the school child, "go, go, go, go"
Together.

Take your backpack
Filled with protractors and glue sticks,
Pencil boxes and erasers,
Packed with delicacies of bologna and apples
(and Cheetos and Corn Nuts while your parents were not looking).
Take these and all other tools of learning,
and burdened by this pack on your back depart the Egypt of your parents' homes.
A childhood Exodus to the promised land.
En masse.

From morning to mid-afternoon
Mothers and fathers now praise the teacher and the school.
"Watch over my child," they ask.
"For their daytime is yours, and not mine, for 9 months"
No sibling squabbles or summer camps,
For the Autumnal Equinox is almost upon us (Sept 22).
And parents will celebrate the new day's quiet with wine and song.
Working.
Alone.

a week at end

This poem is in the uncapitalized style of E. E. Cummings. It's Friday. The kids have been in camp all week and my wife has been a social media maniac from sunrise to sunset. The weekend is welcome.


a friday so nice
to end the week
chicken and rice
the calm we seek
arrives today
and grows grows

a camp of tech
the older of boys
he made a wreck
geek games and toys
adventures on screen
he knows, knows

to run and play
two younger of boys
in sports all day
made lots of noise
big water balloons
use hose, hose

the beautiful wife
so busy so sweet
tells story of life
with blog and tweet
her smile so bright
It glows, glows

Jobberwocky Babysitter

In summer with silver DSi
From babysitter strength of teen.
Their smiles go ‘round from ear from eye
With YouTube rumbling Queen.

“Jump over Babysit, my sons!”
The basketball kicks, the Giant’s hat.
Clear college path to fireman runs
Over our welcome mat.

Small youth of boys denies their brain
The sense to shun the Babysit.
Running round to flank like train
Attack with ocram fit.

A water pistol murks the day
With gurgle balls and starmples stream.
To strike the mystery “hooray!!”
Some babysit the scream.

Arise the monster they create
In running, jumping, freeze.
He bids the harple boys, “It’s late”
Into the car he flees.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning Sleepover (Sonnet 43??)

Kids stay up all night? Parents wake in daze.
I ask the pre-teens to turn off the light
That floods the hallway with its rays so bright
Nintendo DS gaming fights doeth rage
Presenting kids bedroom as play and stage.
Each boy performs to audience of one
They stay up quietly watching YouTube fun
Boys stay up loudly joking with the moon
Boys stay up striving to make noise ‘till late.
Reading Simpsons and Batman cartoons
Boys stay up in their MTV-like state.
“Please go to sleep,” but boys stay up and soon
Parents do bribe with midnight snack on plate.
But they stay up more listening to iTunes.