For Father's Day, I would like to share this poem that my friend wrote and dedicate it to the wonderful fathers in my life who have made such a difference just by being there. The world needs dads like you.
by Jeromy Caballero
I have solder.
Using heat and strange alchemy,
I have secured prongs and wire to a circuit board.
I have fed it power, and by Jim, it works!
I beat my chest and howl in triumph.
O gods upstairs, I am coming after you,
for I am man!
At least until the endorphins fade.
Because I have also learned that the lasting victory
is facing a screaming toddler at 3 a.m.,
I have learned that my wife correcting me
is not the same as being trampled on,
even if it feels like it.
And I have learned that I am no less of a man
if I keep my macho shoved deep in my pockets beneath my fists.
And although swallowing my pride is like swallowing the sun some days,
there's no other way to keep the world from burning up.
And yeah, when I get my Lambourghini it won't be powder blue,
and I still like football,
but I've seen too many guys confuse manhood with adrenaline
and I'm here to reclaim the man card
for the guys who stick around.
I'm speaking for the guys who have never picked a fight,
but never stop fighting.
The guys who can't remember the last time they ever lived,
but live anyway because someone needs them to.
I'm speaking for the guys who understand that the faster you want to run,
the more you have to leave behind
and that finishing first sometimes means carrying nothing at all.
And if you think your toughness must always be on trial,
then by all means, there are contests tailor made.
Climb a wall with no handholds,
or run through fire,
or leap a gator pit,
and if that's not tough enough, do it in the rain!
And when you're finished, fold your arms to hold in the rush.
Consider your man card punched.
forget you have one
and stoop to restore someone's dignity.
Wear out your knees because lifting others is heavy work.
Wait without grudging the hours because to someone,
it meant you were there.
Say I love you and mean it
because you're handing her not just flowers
but a bouquet of years of thick and thin
of shoulders used to carrying all you can
and of feet that,
while they may never have stepped onto a podium,
kept walking on.
I hope I am the tortoise.
Because while the hare will beat me nine times out of ten, remember:
As much as he beats his chest,
I crossed the line with my house on my back.