Dad   daddy    Sergeant Zabielski    what do you think I am made of money?   money doesn’t grow on trees   close the door you’re letting the heat in    close the door you’re letting the heat out  &  besides we haven’t got the money   a litany heard many times   rants   all seven of us kids eventually tuned them out    we went our separate ways   only in hindsight can I imagine the struggle he had to earn enough    his jobs never had real potential    he chose to re-enlist for the health insurance   he tried his own businesses   bought a huge copier in a small west Texas town before Kinko’s existed    but never charged enough because people didn’t have much money   he retired there because that was where my mother was born  &  raised  &  they wanted to be 1973 back-to-the-landers   he sold Amway at cost   same results   he never made money   became the janitor  &  drove the school bus   all the kids saluted Sergeant Zabielski when they got on the bus   there was TV    the La-Z-Boy   &   popcorn at the end of each day    I called as often as I could   &   daddy said it was always good to hear my voice   he cried when Kennedy was shot    protested at the TV  when garbage workers weren’t paid enough   he stood for Polish solidarity   a good Catholic he had seven kids    went to mass every Sunday when the traveling priest came to town  &  during the last years of her life his Polish mother came from Chicago to live with him   sat in a rocking chair every day   during the night she raided the refrigerator eating food calculated for specific recipes planned for the next day   she died sitting in that chair   dad died in the ER years later   Ray, can you hear me?   the nurse asked    No   dad answered  &  then he was gone.