FATHERS DAY

It is Fathers’ Day. My son Rafi is a father — a devoted, loving father and I am proud of him. Surely, he and his lovely Chandra are raising a son who will also be a loving father.

RAFI AND SISTER SUSAN, WHO LOVED HIM BUT COULDN’T RESIST TRYING TO FOOL HIM OCCASIONALLY

RAFI AND HIS SOFT BROWN CURLS

I remember when I’d be pushing little Rafi, dressed in red overalls, in his stroller and strangers would comment: ‘What a beautiful little girl.’ He WAS pretty with his soft brown curls and it didn’t matter to me. I’d just say: ‘Thank you.’ (Red is still my favourite colour.)

When Rafi was very little, we didn’t have the fancy olives displayed in the grocery markets today. I used to buy black olives in cans. He’d push one on each finger and march around the kitchen thrilled with himself. I’d chuckle. He was so much fun.

I REMEMBER RAFI AS A HAPPY CHILD

His sister Susan loved him, but couldn’t help but take advantage of him occasionally. When he was about four, she told him a nickel was worth more than a dime because the nickel was bigger. She was offering to exchange her nickel for his dime. I overheard the transaction and scolded her. Rafi, always the peacemaker, insisted he was the one who wanted the nickel.

I wish my son Rafi, who has given me so much pleasure through the years, all the best on this day devoted to men like him. I am also proud of him and of all his accomplishments.

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Poem…

Am busy destroying files and files of papers — a kindness I owe my children after a lifetime of writing, stirring up trouble and fighting city hall (and at times even winning).
I found the following and decided to share it with you.

This grown man…

FIRST HAIRCUT, AGE ONE

This grown man was my baby
He giggled and smiled and brought me joy
He clung to me when he was ill
(Which happened all too often)
His feverish little body cuddled close
Against my breast while my heart
Beat rapidly with a mother’s fear

Rafi playing with Susan, who always loved him

This grown man was my toddler
His pudgy little fingers explored everything
He loved to stand on my feet and hang onto my knees
While I clumsily transported him
Laughing away from room to room
He wanted to marry our dog
And buy me a big, big house

This grown man was my boy
He took apart every new toy to see
What was inside and put together
Model airplane kits and cars
But never read the instructions
He discovered sports and uniforms
That life was not always fair
And his mother wasn’t perfect
Yet continued to love me

WHEN HE CHOSE HIS LIFE PARTNER, HE CHOSE WELL. HERE WITH HIS CHANDRA ON VACATION.

This grown man was no typical teenager
He laughed down at me from a height
I’d have to stand on a chair to reach
Why he was never difficult I don’t know
He worked out, ran and played basketball
And would study — if he had to
He thought about girls and I must
Never, ever kiss him in public
He would call me at work
Just to say hello

Note: I also wrote a poem about Susan. See it under: My Susan…
April 27, 2020. After all, I do love them both.