The Old Man

The Old Man

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

The Old Man had a stature, indeed quite small.
But I’d learn it mattered not one little bit.
For when you did something which did him appall,
Just one look and quickly you’d quit.

The Old Man was stubborn and often quite tough.
He lived by his own set of rules.
I learned to never call what I thought were 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 always gladly give.

The Old Man, in later years, had much to forbear
As cancer raged war for many years
Never once he complained or said 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 so 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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