Center for Journal Therapy
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Poem of the Month: June 2001

In memory of Dale Hartley Adams
July 6, 1913-June 20, 1991

Fishing With My Father He always took me fishing with him on those long northern summer nights out in the boat and I loved it, not the sitting for hours under all the moons and showy red lights, but the going-- the creak of the oars in the locks like entering an attic of silence where no one could reach us, water beads lined up on the edge of the oar clinging like a string of pearls before they dripped back into the liquid mirror that held us all. I realize now how many poems I thought up but never noted in those hours while we stared the bobber down praying for a catch. I used to play games to pass the time, for it was not the fishing that pleased me but being with my father in his joy. If I blinked my eyes thirty-nine times, on the fortieth a muskie would strike, that fish my father's dream he took to heaven, I think. When I held his arm at his passing, clung to his hand like no fish ever had, he let go and I slipped off, like that. If I blink thirty-nine times, on the fortieth maybe I'll catch a glimpse of him. --Perie Longo Journal prompts: Write about a special time with your father. What did your father teach you? What was your father's dream? If your father is not with you -- through death, estrangement or moving on -- what do you miss? Write a letter to your father for Father's Day. Send it if you want to and can, or leave it unsent in your journal, or burn it as ritual.

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