Terri Kirby Erickson

MY FATHER

My father was a whistler and a penny lobber. He had no use for the lowest denomination of hard money, so handing pennies to him for change was followed by a quick coin toss to the sidewalk. Dad’s one-cent pieces are all over this town, including the pockets and piggy banks of strangers, something he never met. He could talk to anybody and they talked to him. While paying for paint or car parts or anything at all, cashiers would tell my dad the stories of their lives and he would listen. Once my ex-husband, who my father later referred to as a bad penny, was yelling at me because supperwasn’t hot on the table when he camehome from work. He didn’t know thatDad was upstairs until he came bounding down saying, Boy, if you’re so hungry, why don’t you eat a goddam cracker? which was one of the most satisfying moments of my entire life, and still worth a whistle.—from Poets Respond

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Terri Kirby Erickson: “Thanks for everything, Dad. I miss you every day.” (web)

Related* “Ode to Antiques Roadshow” by Susan J. Erickson * “No Body” by J. Divina Erickson * “The Fire” by Jaclyn Dwyer