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Fathers and Sons By Bill Glose Fathers should never die before they are grandfathers, when sons most need guidance, wisdom; when, seeing through parent’s eyes, their world transforms in the blink of birth to one brighter than a rainbow, sharper than cut glass. Fathers should never die before their boys are men who can fit but one calloused finger in the clasp of a tiny hand, muscle and steel softened by the velvet of a baby’s crown. Fathers should never die before sons thank them for life lessons, say “I love you” before a funeral requires it, when farewells flutter like so many petals down a hole in the damp Earth. A Lesson from my Dogs By Bill Glose When I encounter well-meaning friends who boast of success, offer career advice, suggest alternatives to writing, I ask my dogs, the reasons why. “Do you ever worry,” I say, “what other dogs think, wonder which ones growl behind your back? Do you crave better chew toys, designer food from a can? Ever wish you were something else?” They pant and wag till I snap on leashes, open the door, then they sprint outside, towing me behind. There’s a whiff of something on the breeze; they must investigate, sniff and run, be what they were meant to be. |