I Never Saw My Father Drunk
I never saw my father drunk
yet he drank every
day, 2 to 3 beers in the evening,
bourbon on weekends.
He was a quiet man, un-
assuming, I guess you’d say.
He never talked about the
war, nor did he ever seem
to carp about his life. Perhaps
he was happy. Perhaps it’s that
simple. Evenings, with his
drink, he often worked crosswords,
unless Gunsmoke or Mannix was
on. I heard him disagree with my
mother once. The house grew
so still afterward I thought some-
thing had died. The next night
nothing was changed. My father,
steady as a plaster mask,
sipped his bourbon and found the
exact words to complete his puzzle,
words he never felt burdened to share.