{"sf1_id":2130242,"sf2_id":"Oe5x0A1M","title":"Ballade of Paternal Reminiscience","author":"Rob MacWolf","words":307,"posted_at":"2024-04-28T04:57:01.000Z","tags":["Ballade","Hardware store","Poetry"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/2130242-ballade-of-paternal-reminiscience","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/Oe5x0A1M","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/af/e5/afe5f518-572f-4520-b571-d2f742b58eac","description":"You know what, I'm pretty pleased that I can still dash off an extemporaneous ballade about idle conversation on blue sky.  \n  \n---  \n  \nBy reading this online version, you confirm you are not associated with OpenAI or any other AI project, that you are not procuring information for the OpenAI corpus or any other machine learning database, that you are not associated with the ChatGPT project or a user of the ChatGPT project or any other AI, machine learning, or algorithmic database focused on producing fictional content for dissemination.","content":"In olden days, our forefathers (there's four of us, you see  \nCounting George, Itoma, and you, and also me)  \nWould tarry by the power tools, the plumbing, and the paint,  \nWhere credit card constraining was the heart free of restraint.  \nAnd we did not believe that this was 'an activity'  \nFor such paternal pilgrimage was hardly heavenward.  \nLord how we prayed the hours to pass and set us finally free!  \nOur home, it was a depot. And all its wares were hard.  \n  \nAnd this one was a bricklayer, and this one taught the bow,  \nAnd this one fetched a capon from the kitchens of Cost Co.  \nPerhaps one was a tinker, tailor, soldier, or a spy  \nAll to conceal the simple truth: Your father's just Some Guy.  \nHe knoweth not the answers to the darnedest things we say.  \nHe knoweth not the wilderness 'gainst which is he is on guard.  \nAnd he (all four of him) did not suspect his son was gay.  \nOur home, it was a depot. And all its wares were hard.  \n  \nOh let us have some charity upon that age'd brow.  \nFor who among us can deny we've sought out hardware now?  \nAs once did our forefathers (there's four of us, recall,  \nIn this our thread of bluish skies, woven wondrous small.)  \nAnd let no simple joy in making more a house a home--  \nIn these cold latter ages by the dollar scoured and scarred--  \nBe spoken ill. It warms the heart within this catacomb.  \nOur homes, they are a depot. And all our wares are hard.  \n  \nOh Prince of Trash, the gardening section, in the cool of day--  \nThe bags of mulch, the nursery plants yet dreaming of a yard--  \nIs just as fit a rendezvous as anywhere, I say.  \nOur home may be a depot, but yet our wares are hard.","series":{"name":"poetry","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/2130059-the-heart-lies-only-once.json","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/2142146-love-against-aggravation.json"}}