My father is a quiet man. Not to say he doesn’t like to talk, but there is nothing booming about his personality. He is possessed of a dry with and likes to pun, be a bit silly and doesn’t take himself seriously.
For example, as I was growing up he repeated the following bit of drivel often enough that I learned it.
“One fine day in the middle of the night,
Two dead boys got up to fight,
Back to back they faced each other,
Drew their swords and shot each other.
If you believe this tale not true,
Ask the blind man, for he saw it too.”
Thank you, Dad.
That little bit of flummery, what there is of it, is part of a Nonsense Verse called (surprisingly enough) “Two Dead Boys.” Now, I could be snide and say leave it to my Olde Man to not learn me the whole of it, but I sort of doubt he knew the entire thing. Plus, y’know…Dad’s. Right?
Still, I do believe this is the very first poem I ever took the trouble to memorize, for good or ill. Further, when I think of it I smile as it brings my Father to mind. It’s a sweet, albeit silly memory and just one of those things my Father taught me.