Red Kennedy, my father, died this morning.
It is too hard to sort out feelings and thoughts right now, but I will miss him very much.
He was a great father. I am old enough and have heard the stories of so many other people to know how blessed I was to have such loving, supportive parents as my Mom and Dad.
And he was a surprising man, as well. Many who knew him would be unaware that he loved writing poetry. Given the time of year, I thought it might be nice to run one of his poems here.
Rest in peace, Dad.
Waiting for SpringBy John "Red" Kennedy
I am hopefully waiting for spring to appear
To wash away all the winter fears
Of slippery roads and piles of snow
And give the flowers a chance to grow
They are sticking their heads out ever so slight
But the frost comes back most every night
I know they will win out in the end
And their lovely blossoms on stems will bend
The vegetable gardens are in men's thoughts
They will have to wait awhile to prepare their plots
The sprouting and growth will surely come
As His labor of love has just begun
Fishing season seems to fit in here
With a reel and a rod and a couple of beers
They roam the streams all about
Hoping to catch that elusive trout
The hay in the meadows is starting to grow
And come July the first cutting they'll mow
But for now the sugaring season is here
Their yield will be short and sweet I fear
Baseball has started, so it must be spring
As the bat on the ball has the familiar ping
The roads are full of potholes and bumps
When you drive over them, they give you a thump
And in conclusion I would like to say
Spring is not always this way