The Graduate

In celebration of National Poetry Month (April), I thought I would offer this poem on graduation (which takes place in May).  Considering my son's graduation from high school, I have come to the conclusion that this is a great achievement for his parents.  Not every mother and father, for example, allow their progeny to live.  And in the animal kingdom, some species eat their young.



Believe me, I understand.

In spite of these facts, I still love my son and trust that, the day after his high school graduation, he will begin packing his bags in preparation for moving out of the house.  After he has vacated his room, his mother and I plan to call an exterminator and have his living quarters fumigated and the carpet suctioned for worms. I recall that, when I graduated from high school, my parents had to live with tapeworms for two months and I don't want the same to happen to me.  Worms are fine for dogs--which prefer the worms as a source of protein--but I enjoy Hamburger Helper better.

I'm still in deep prayer, hoping that my son will make these final weeks count and will not lapse into an all "F" report card.  That can't happen.  Becky and I have already begun making plans to spend our children's inheritance and we don't want to waste time.  We are getting too old to walk to the mailbox and we are looking forward to visiting the many exotic places we hope to see before we die.  Cities like Akron, Ohio and Nowhere, Wyoming top our list.

Graduations.  They are not for wimps.  And neither is the hope that springs eternal.

College Acceptance

The letter came in the mail
Addressed to my son,
But my wife and I opened it
And called to offer him our stunned
Congratulations.

He was nonplussed at first
And then said, "Great"--
Unwilling to accept our pride
Or the long-distance weight
Of adulations.

We will, of course, be pleased
If some years from now
We learn of his "passing"
And the wonderful "Wow"
Of graduations.