For Dad, on His 100th Birthday
Hardworking, outgoing, good looking and smart,
My Dad had a soft spot for kids in his heart.
A drive in the car was his idea of fun.
A job that was tiring and sweaty and dirty,
And beat all the pickers the bosses had found.
He learned it by experience, not through a book.
Till he learned of a job that would pay him much greater.
And he stayed there a year, till his brother-in-law fell
And Dad knew that place was no place for him.
Then sold washers and dryers, which wasn’t his style,
But instead of succeeding, he just became poor.
A golf course greenskeeper job fell into place
And he taught himself all the rules of the race,
But the golf course might be wiped out before long
By a highway, so he had to be moving along.
So we traveled east, took a short vacation,
Then he started his time with a few service stations.
Many a job, more than just these few mentioned,
Filled up his life and took his attention.
But his true desire was to wander and roam
To the south, west and north, for nowhere was home.
Restless and needing to go to somewhere new
Meant new jobs, new scenery, new houses, new schools.
We kids knew nothing but the nomadic way
And we all went where Dad went, day after day.
That was all long ago and lies in the past,
And the years since then have flown away fast.
In spite of his flaws, he meant only the best.
It’s been so many years since he went to his rest
And today Dad would be 100 years old,
But he wouldn’t have liked that, truth be told.
He would always say he was just thirty-nine
He would like being that age forever just fine.
So, Dad, here’s a poem of my memories of you.
It’s not the best but will have to do
Until I myself walk through that golden door
And all of our family is together once more.
Jimmy Darvin Hollis
December 24, 1920 - February 7, 1997
With love from Jackie
