At Home Fathers

They rode the airwaves we breathed.
At home fathers of our afternoons.
Captain Penny, Barnaby,
Mr. Jingeling too -
“On Halle’s seventh floor
We’ll be looking for you to turn the key.”
The Minister of toys,
Our gateway to Cleveland’s Santa.

They were custodians
Of our morals, our mantras,
Nurturers of our childish good.
Captain Kangaroo, Soupy Sales, and Pinky Lee.
“You can fool some of the people all of the time,
And all of the people some of the time,
You can fool Mother Nature, but you can’t fool mom!”
Where have all the innocents gone?

They rode the airways we breathed.
No Dr. Phil or Judge Judy,
No compulsions or malfunction,
Just cartoons or Little Rascals.
Slap stick and simple wisdoms,
pratfalls, pies, and pranks.
No Bleep, M-f’n bitches on Jerry,
Just the Pet Parade, just Jungle Larry.

They rode the airways we breathed.
Simpler times, saner times.
Not safer times, but we could wait a while to grow.
Enablers, providers
Our at home fathers.
They allowed us to be children,
To learn when we were ready.
To learn how to be quiet… to listen, to breathe.