Tell Him -- One of My Greatest Regrets

How many of us are guilty of this --- far too many, I'm sure. My dad removed the training wheels and silly plastic tassels that made me hate my older sister’s trike, And, with a clothespin, placed a playing card within the spokes to turn it into something I would like. And when I reached the grown-up age of somewhere close to five, he taught me how to ride a 2-wheel bike. He taught me how to whistle, and he taught me how to fish, and how to tell a Walleye from a Pike. He taught me how to gather eggs, and showed me where the cat would hide her baby kittens every fall. He let me steer the tractor, and he let me drive the truck, and taught me how to do a cattle call. I learned to ride a horse from him, and how to milk a cow, and learned the smell of cleaning out a stall. And as I sit here smiling at a photo of my dad… an old and faded picture on the wall… Though my eyes are blurred with tears, I can clearly see the priceless opportunities I had To learn the many things in life a growing youngster must from one who…through the good times and the bad… Steered me in the right direction, always by my side, and I can’t help but feel so very sad For falling short of thanking him as often I should have for giving so much time to be my dad. I think of how he made me bite a bar of soap…for swearing, and how he’d always spank me when I lied. And though he watched me lose so many races as a child, he always bragged about me with such pride. He always told me, “Son, it doesn’t matter if you win, the most important thing is that you tried.” I only wish, with all my heart, I’d made him understand How proud I was of him…before he died. PS: I've got 4 new CDs - @ 4 1/2 hours each = (62 diversely varied poems), listed on EBAY - under - “Mark Stellinga Poetry” - should those of you who travel care to be so entertained. (We use PayPal) Cheers, Mark