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	<title>A Journey, a Journal, Reflections &#187; Events</title>
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		<title>Dad Turns 90; Jay&#8217;s Haikus</title>
		<link>http://timberry.me/2009/dad-turns-90-jays-haikus/</link>
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		<pubDate>Tue, 06 Oct 2009 21:45:14 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Timberry</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Events]]></category>
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		<description><![CDATA[Oct. 2, 2009. Dad turns 90. There&#8217;s a flickr link to my pictures. And if you don&#8217;t have access, email me.
We celebrated the next day, Oct. 3, a Saturday. Martha arranged it, and gave a very nice speech. Then Jay pulled out his haikus. I hope to post the video on YouTube, but I&#8217;m also [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Oct. 2, 2009. Dad turns 90. There&#8217;s a <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/berrys/sets/72157622710886694/">flickr link</a> to my pictures. And if you don&#8217;t have access, email me.</p>
<p><a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2608/4065544314_fd1a787671_m.jpg"><img style="margin: 5px 0px 5px 5px" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2608/4065544314_fd1a787671_m.jpg" alt="" align="right" /></a>We celebrated the next day, Oct. 3, a Saturday. Martha arranged it, and gave a very nice speech. Then Jay pulled out his haikus. I hope to post the video on YouTube, but I&#8217;m also going to try to recreate some of his commentary, aside from the actual haikus themselves. Where I don&#8217;t have commentary it&#8217;s because I don&#8217;t remember.</p>
<p><em>This first one is very familiar to the three of us, me and Chip and Jay, who grew up watching football with Dad.</em></p>
<p><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/berrys/4064813433/"><img style="margin: 5px 0px 5px 5px" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3654/4064813433_616cc3fcdd_m.jpg" alt="" align="right" /></a><strong>Grass is greener</strong><br />
Things not great on the field<br />
What the heck is goin on?<br />
Put in that freshman.</p>
<p><strong>Unholy Thing</strong><br />
Dad drinks his vodka<br />
he likes it mixed with milk. Yuk.<br />
I want to throw up.</p>
<p><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/berrys/4064814435/in/photostream"><img style="margin: 5px 0px 5px 5px" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2665/4064814435_7de04fcc21_m.jpg" alt="" align="right" /></a><em>Everybody in our family knows that dad has always liked his licorice more than any other sweets. Not unlike me. Here&#8217;s Jay&#8217;s tribute:</em></p>
<p><strong> </strong></p>
<p><strong>Black Goddess<br />
</strong><br />
Dad turning ninety!<br />
Think of all the licorice<br />
This man has eaten.</p>
<p><strong> </strong></p>
<p><strong>Good, True, and Beautiful<br />
</strong><br />
<a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2739/4065557246_1c632e5683_m.jpg"><img style="margin: 5px 0px 5px 5px" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2672/4064799381_9b7af00b42_m.jpg" alt="" align="right" /></a>He comes from the Church<br />
Virgin Mary watches him<br />
St. Michael protects</p>
<p><strong> </strong></p>
<p><strong>His Lucky Day<br />
</strong><br />
After tragic loss<br />
He sure did strike it lucky<br />
When he found liz</p>
<p><em>First, we learned that wonderful Irish grandfather Jack O’Neill was actually mom’s stepfather, not real DNA for us. At least we were 100% Irish on Dad’s side — until the discovery, 10 or so years ago, that the Dudley in dad’s background was actually Dudelein, and we was French</em></p>
<p><strong> </strong></p>
<p><strong>Le Crushing Truth (Family Tree Shockeroo!)<br />
</strong><br />
<a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2739/4065557246_1c632e5683_m.jpg"><img style="margin: 5px 0px 5px 5px" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2739/4065557246_1c632e5683_m.jpg" alt="" align="right" /></a>Presumed all Irish<br />
Til shocking revelation<br />
Dudley’s Dudler</p>
<p><em>Jay pointed out how quick dad was to warn us about “ballooning up” and other familiar “don’t get fat” phrases. And that he had eaten 39 its-it (an ice cream treat popular in the San Francisco area) in a single weekend. </em></p>
<p><strong> </strong></p>
<p><strong>Dad’s World Record<br />
</strong><br />
Ya gotta, gotta<br />
push yourself away from that<br />
thirty ninth It’s it.</p>
<p><em>It turned out later that Uncle Cal had secretly bought a ping pong table and had been practicing for months when he, with pretended nonchalance, challenged dad to ping pong.</em></p>
<p><strong>Ping Pong Apocalypse </strong><br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/berrys/4065558776/in/set-72157622710886694"><img style="margin: 5px 0px 5px 5px" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2586/4065558776_b012c157ba_m.jpg" alt="" align="right" /></a>Uncle Cal ready.<br />
Dad plays with gin on table.<br />
Dad whips Cal’s butt bad.</p>
<p><em>Jay wasn’t sure this actually happened and suggested he dreamt it because of something that had been said. Martha thought it did in fact happen (he is an ophthalmologist).</em></p>
<p><strong>Weird Day Job</strong><br />
He removes eye balls,<br />
Brings them home to show his kids.<br />
They gleam on the shelf.</p>
<p><em>Controversy broke out in the neighborhood as the Knights planted trees that threatened the view. There was a discussion but Mr. Knight was unmoved and unsympathetic.</em></p>
<p><strong>Bad Night for Mr. Knight</strong><br />
Tiptoe to Knight’s yard<br />
One strange and moonless evening;<br />
Too bad for that tree.</p>
<p><em>For many years in a row, Gram sent dad balloon seat pajamas for Christmas. We all laughed.</em></p>
<p><strong>The Gift She Keeps on Giving</strong><br />
Each Berry Christmas,<br />
The gift of hysteria,<br />
Balloon Seat Classic.</p>
<p><strong>Mushy But True</strong><br />
Language is useless.<br />
Words don’t capture the feeling.<br />
We love Dad so much. </p>
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