The Old Man

The Old Man

I remember the Old Man, when he came into my life,
Though he wasn’t quite so aged in those days.
He had taken my mother to be his new wife,
He was different and certainly had his ways.

The Old Man had a stature that was quite small.
But I’d learn it didn’t matter one little bit.
For when you did something which did him appall,
Just one look and “whatever” – you quickly quit.

The Old Man was quite stubborn and often very tough.
He lived by his own set of rules.
I learned to never try and call any of his bluffs,
He disciplined hard – I bent over many stools.

The Old Man wasn’t perfect and often he would err,
But with fairness he always tried to live.
Junior Bowling he ran – of Little League he took care,
Of himself he would often gladly give.

The Old Man, in later years, had much to forbear
As cancer raged war for fourteen years
Never once did he complain or say life was unfair.
With that same gruffness he defeated all his fears.

The Old Man passed away just a few years ago,
Luckier than most who suffer for this long.
In his own home he died with his wife there also,
His journey done – no longer here did he belong.

The Old Man is in my thoughts and his absence makes me sigh,
For his sourness I still often get a yen.
Even though in later years we didn’t see eye to eye.
He was my father, and I loved him – The Old Man.

One of my favorite photos of Dad Enos. Taken with his grandson Justin the summer before his death.

Clay T. Enos
June 9th, 2008
Dedicated to the memory of my step father, Harold (Bud) G. Enos Jr., who died in April 2005 at the age of 79.

About clayandali
Trained as a research chemist, but have been involved with Entrepreneurship for over 30 years. I have been involved in photography for 41 years. Ali is a graduate of the Ohio Institute of Photography in Dayton, OH. She loves both portrait and landscape work.

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