Life with a hole in It

... a family-values type

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.   

They may not mean to,

but they do.   

They fill you with the 

faults they had

And add some extra, just

for you.

 

But they were fucked up

in their turn

By fools in old-style

hats and coats,   

Who half the time were

soppy-stern

And half at one   

another’s throats.

  

Man hands on misery to man.

It deepens like a coastal shelf.

Get out as early as you can,

And don’t have any kids yourself. 

              

  ... Philip Larkin (1822-85), English poet (entitled This Be The Verse) 

  

     

 

Motherly intuition

My mother never wrote me a letter, ever. Father had on occasion. Both were not much into letter writing. When I did receive a letter from her, it was a complete surprise. It simply stated my father had some minor physical ailment, the nature of which she was not precise nor did she, so I thought, understand. But she sensed it was a death knell without really saying so. It was a quality which she had that hinted at folksy wisdom which I respected, one of the few qualities she had I did respect. It was a “heads up” letter that proved out.