My dad could be a character.
He often loved to get your goat,
But in a fun or teasing manner
And always keeping his wit afloat.

Very well read and articulate,
He used his humor to be quite punny.
However, when he teased my mom,
She didn't often find him funny.

He could be loquacious with his
Gargantuan vocabulary.
Since he could talk about anything,
The topics, of course, would always vary.

He possessed the enviable
Ability to think on his feet.
To hear him talk at events to me
Was an unforgettable treat.

My mom would listen attentively,
But after a while her ire would spike.
I could hear her softly mumbling,
"******, Warne, put down the mic!"

The use of the word "******" here
I have to admit is rather tame,
For both of my folks could string together
Words that would put a sailor to shame.

No offense to sailors here,
But certainly you know what I mean.
After we left our family
Gatherings there'd be a scene.

"Stop talking politics
At family parties!" Mom would shout.
"And stay away from religion," she'd add.
Of course, I've left the cuss words out.

But Dad was truly a loving man--
Warm, affectionate, and kind.
His liberal outlook on life taught me
To open both my heart and mind.

Twenty-six years ago he died,
And yet so much of him survives:
The love that he had for his family
And the ways that he touched so many lives.

-by Bob B (6-16-24)