Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Good man

 We met almost twenty years ago,  both of us negotiating with a ticket taker for admittance into a sold out Alan Ginsburg reading.   We have been friends ever since.  We know little about each others' depths, but at the same time give mutual emotional support.  We may not be in touch for months, a year, but our bond remains.   Since Joni was born,  he has been lifting weights to intimidate potential suitors someday ( when she was nine he could do pull-ups with her hanging on to his bicep). He has been there for both daughters. Not a day to day presence, but always present.

 His mother recently told him that he doesn't know what it's like to be a black man, and what can I know or say about that?  I think he's a good man, one of the best.  He gets mad when his mother talks crazy. He leaves her house for a while, but eventually returns.  He calls me to vent, then returns to do yard work, housework, whatever his mother needs.  My friend used to travel: Cuba, London, Mexico. Now he works all the time.  He likes to listen to jazz on Sunday afternoons, and has been engaged too long to a man who doesn't like jazz.  He has no biological children, but he's getting Father's Day love from my daughters.

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