Trying to be there for you,
as you'd grow.
So much bout raising a little boy,
I really didn't know.
But you were always;
"Man of the House",
With baseball bat at your side.
Picking up cans and mowing the
No adult could have done better;
No matter how he tried!
There were times you said
I'd embarrassed you,
But you smacked when you chewed,
And embarrassed me too.
My nickname for you was "Boodle-E-Pop"
Oh how you hated that name.
But when I called you
Just plain "Pop"
We pretended it was just a game.
We didn't have much money,
Nor a fancy place, nor car.
So we didn't get to go that much,
But we had fun; by far.
We would go a fish'n
With cane poles in our hand
And when you'd catch the biggest
It'd make you feel so grand.
But years went by and things did
Oh how our lives got rearranged!
No cane poles now; nor base ball
but a machine gun's in your hand.
For you went away one "blue day"
To stand for our Nation's Land.
Old enough to make your own choices,
You chose to serve in our Nation's
It wasn't enough to defend just
Now you defend the whole country!
But son, I want you to know how
proud I am.
More proud as a mom,
Than Uncle Sam,
For I know...
You have always been a man!
Copyright © 2000 Sydell R. Linsicombe
(written for my son)