In Memory of my Father by L J Frank

In the early 1930’s during the autumn of the year,

my father stood in a bread line with his father

In downtown Detroit off Woodward Avenue

between deep breaths and the feeling of humility,

his father said, “Humor and love are essential.”


A few decades later, I remember my father coming home,

turning on some music and opening a couple of beers,

as my mother and he celebrated their life together

having moved into a brand new house.


Sometime during the late 1960’s

I remember discussing the events of the day

we talked for hours about human pursuits

and later I shared conversations with theologians

about the existential nature of existence

before I became a ‘missionary’ abroad.


After working and traveling to different places on Earth

listening to folklore, enhancing my knowledge

my father asked me what I thought

we shared translations of our journeys

with knowledge comes the realization how little we know

as fathers and sons do about the meaning of life…

and then my father became my best man at my wedding.


Different directions were pursued

I remember my father most in the things we cared about

laughing at the nonsense humans engage in

while retaining our sense of the tumultuous seas and

calm waters of a father and son relationship.


In the end we agreed in the spirit of Martin Luther’s thoughts,

that is, everyone must do two things alone,

our own believing and our own dying;

so we traveled our respective paths

understanding the blessings of ‘family’

and friendships made along the way.


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